#it’s been almost a year and then it’ll be a whole 2 years since he died | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

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a glimpse of us | bkdk x reader

✧ tags ;; fem!reader (afab, she/they pronuns used), cigarettes / nicotine addiction, drinking to cope, heavy hurt/comfort, polyamorous negotiations, arguing, unhealthy coping, miscommunications / bad communication, rebounding, getting together, bkdk interact both sexually and intimately, oral (m+f recieving), threesomes, double penetration, anal fingering / anal with prep, intimacy, no power dynamics but reader is confident sexually, petnames (sweetheart, baby), 18+, mdni

✧ wc ;; 19.8k (putting on my clown shoes)

✧ a/n;; i wrote this for me and no one else and you will notice this right away. my bkg bias is also kinda present HDFJKSD

✧ synopsis ;; you always knew you were a stand-in. why wouldn't you be? but you hoped that at least once, he saw you for what you were. that all those years together meant something more.

You haven’t touched a cigarette since your last year of college.

It’s the middle of the night, and the September air is colder than you know what to do with. Part of you knows you should wear a jacket since the weather is persistently bad. It’ll storm soon.

But another part of you doesn’t really care if you get sick. So, instead of dwelling - you follow your whims and rub the sleep out of your eyes. Sitting up in your bed, all of your limbs feel heavy. Your eyes are swollen almost shut, crusty from a long night of crying and drinking.

You laugh a little humorlessly for being so upset about the whole thing, sober enough to do so. Right now, at least after some sleep, you feel okay. Not bad, definitely not good, but okay. And you want to smoke a cigarette, which is probably a sign that you’re not coping with this as well as you’ve hoped.

You don’t think about it. You choose not. Instead, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and stand to your feet. You look around your room. Your cat, Ganache, is asleep in a cardboard box, making you laugh. Your laundry is in a pile, and your work is sprawled all over your desk. Tomorrow, you’ll finish some of it and maybe take a hike alone.

There’s no light in your room besides the moon, covered by clouds. Through the glass doors in your bedroom - leading to the balcony, you look at it for a long time. The sky is starless. It’s light pollution, but somehow it feels like you. Lonely.

You laugh at your own misery and walk to the bathroom to examine your face. You’re worse for wear. Your hair hasn’t been touched in god knows how long, and your face is covered in oil. Reaching your hands out for the faucet, you run the warm water, pumping face wash into your hands and rubbing your skin maybe a little harder than necessary.

You don’t want to think about it. Your fingers scrub along your cheek, and around the area of your nose that gets crusty during the cooler season. Splashing warm water into your skin, you wash the soap away and pat it dry into a towel.

Better, you think while looking into the mirror. At least a little bit.

You put some cream on, and some chapstick but don’t bother brushing your teeth. It’d be pointless to do it now, knowing you’re going to smoke yourself halfway through a pack and it’ll linger on your lips for days.

You don’t change out of your PJs. Worn basketball shorts, and a muscle tank top that shows off the skin stay on. You rummage around in your drawer for a windbreaker and put it on over your clothes. It’s 2 sizes too big but covers you decently.

Before you leave your apartment, you give your cat a little rub on the head but don’t wake her. You grab your keys, some pepper spray, and a lighter and shove them into your pocket before taking a look around your barren apartment.

You were planning on moving out, just a few weeks ago, somewhere closer to them. The irony isn’t lost on you.

You turn the knob and close the door behind you - checking to make sure it’s locked before descending down your hallway. There’s a single light at the end but the rest is dark. It’s a quiet walk. You take an elevator to the first floor. and then leave the whole place behind.

You turn your head to look at it, worried it’ll disappear for a minute. Afterward, you’re out on the street alone for the first time in a long time.

You tilt your head back and stare at the sky. With chapped skin and the tip of your nose freezing, you look at the moon again. It cradles you. Alone, so utterly and terribly alone you think. But the two of you are alone together, and even though it’s silly - it keeps you from crying.

You didn’t bring your headphones, though your phone is in your pocket. Normally, being alone at night makes you nervous. You used to always have company or someone you could call.

You could still probably call them. If you wanted. They’re heroes before they’re anything else.

But the walk is simply cumbersome. You’re not afraid. Too numb, or too desperate to hold onto the brief relief of apathy to be afraid. Nothing happens on the walk there, but you’re not really paying attention. Even if the world collapsed right now, you wouldn’t know.

You know you’re at your location because the light is almost blinding. The luminescent glow of the neon lights makes your vision feel bleary, flickering red kanji and sterile white from the inside. You look around to see no one else is really there, aside from you.

You hesitate to walk in. Is it worth it to break a 4-year streak over this?

But you can feel the itch in your throat, the dryness in your mouth. The memory of relief overwhelms your every sense. Your stomach lurches, scratching your neck.

You walk into the store.

A noise goes off, a little ding. The person at the cash register doesn’t even lift his head to look at you. A college student, you think. He looks young.

You miss college, sometimes. You were a lot more of a mess. Stressed out, frantic, with a fully functioning liver at the start which was nice. But at least then, everything felt more temporary. Every wound felt like it would heal, no matter how big. Everything felt like an impactful part of your growth.

And it’s not like you’re not growing anymore, but now misery just feels like misery. You don’t feel it as much as you live it passively. You have bills to pay. A pet to take care of. Parents old enough to retire. So every bad thing just becomes part of the wave that crashes at your feet every so often.

If this happened in college, you’d be crying and partying and whatever else. You wouldn’t be as desperate to move on, maybe. Letting yourself be broken was a luxury that you didn’t think you still had.

But you don’t want that for yourself either. You just want to stop it altogether and disappear. Under a cloud of white, or the stream of a creak. You just want to go.

You can’t though. Can’t leave. Can’t uproot yourself into new soil, so you lean into old habits for comfort.

Smoking helps you disappear. Your lungs, passively intaking the nicotine and replacing the remaining parts of you.

You search the fridges for a 6 pack of beers. Some cat food, some microwave meals, a candy bar. You take it all in your hands and dump it onto the counter. The kid at the counter gives you a look like he’s startled. He’s reading manga, though you can’t see the cover.

“Could I get two packs of cigarettes? Seven Stars, Revo Lights Menthol.” You say, voice still thick with sleep. You give him a half-smile as he seems startled, watching as his hands fiddle with the keys of the cigarette case.

He puts the two packs on the table, closing it back up. It squeaks as the glass is pulled back into place. His manga is left open on the table. You glance at it.

“Fire Punch?”

He looks surprised as he scans your things, a flush on his face.

“Oh, Uhm, yeah. You know it?”

You nod your head.

“Read it in high school. Agni is a cool protagonist.”

All of a sudden he’s beaming at you. It catches you off-guard, but it makes sense. It’s an older manga and never got all that popular. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s read it. I uhm.. would love to talk about it. You know.”

He puts your stuff in a plastic bag, with the tips of his ears going pink. Your eyes widen, and you give him a little grin. While you look like this, huh? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice.

“You know I’m older than you, yeah?”

He looks startled that you read through his intentions. He’s good-looking. Tall, with dark hair and a mole under his eye.

“I know I look like a kid, but I’m 22.”

“So, only a few years. Not bad for looking the way I do right now. You got a thing for older girls?” You joke.

“That’ll be 4,100 yen. And, not really. You just…seemed cool.” He says, trailing off. You chuckle at him, looking at his nametag before offering him a look.

“I’m not, I can guarantee you. Getting hit on made me feel a little better though. Thanks for that. Do you want my number?” You ask, with a half-smile. His eyes go wide, then he nods hard. You laugh at him.

It’s not like you have anything left to lose.

“Got a pen?”

He looks frantically around for a pen and then hands it to you. You give him the money you owe him first. When he hands you a receipt and change, you flip the flimsy paper over and scribble your number down on it. You grab the bag off the counter, pocketing the cigarettes and holding the rest.

Passing your number down, you pat it twice.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll go out with you any time soon. But you made me feel better, so I’ll give you this. We can talk manga some time. and maybe catch a drink. You’ve got a good face, so don’t waste it on people like me.”

He looks at you startled but takes the paper anyway in a daze. You smile. He seems nice at least. Harmless.

“Y-Yeah. Right. that’d be nice. I uh, hope your night gets better.”

You can feel the melancholy all over your skin as you smile.

“Thanks. Have a nice night.”

You grab your things, turning to walk around. Almost unwilling. But if you stay any longer, you know you’re gonna end up letting yourself talk and you don’t wanna dump all that on a person you just met. Just before he goes, he calls for you.

“Hey, uh - be careful. It’s kind of late. I’d walk you home if I wasn’t on the clock. There might be a hero around, so you know -”

You turn your head, looking at him for a minute. Your chest aches at the thought of having people to call.

“Thanks for looking out. I’ll be alright. Night,”

You leave, with a hand in your pocket and another one curled around the plastic shopping bag.

You should probably go back home.

You keep walking, though. A bad choice, maybe. Instead of turning back onto that road, you walk down another one that you recognize, taking one left until you find a bench underneath a streetlight.

It’s quiet. Empty. There aren’t any heroes patrolling but it’s a local road surrounded by houses and apartments. You don’t feel any danger as you sit down on the wood bench, brushing it once with your hands beforehand.

It’s freezing. Your whole body is icy to the touch. A shiver tears through you as your skin comes in contact with the seat. It’s chillier than it was when you left. Your bag lets out a soft clunk as you set it down next to you. You reach into your windbreaker for the pack of cigarettes and your lighter.

Balancing the lighter between your thighs, you lean forward. With your elbows on your knees, you smack the pack of cigarettes against your palm. Your fingers tremble from the weather, the wind blowing in a hard gust.

You don’t think about it. You use your keys to get rid of the plastic outside, and then open the pack up. The one in the middle of the top row, your hands shake when you take it.

You bring the end to your chapped lip, fishing for your lighter. It’s an expensive thing you got as a gift, engraved. It’s almost out of fuel so it feels light in the palm of your hands. Even so, you flick it open. You run your finger over the wheel, stopping when the flame flickers on.

You bring it to the end of your cigarette, watching it burn. The orange-red glow soothes you. The fire keeps you warm. It burns, and you watch it burn - and with your lips closed around one end, you take a deep and long inhale.

It’s been a long time. Longer than you thought. It feels raw. Nicotine and menthol mix together making your lips tingle and your lungs sting. It tastes like tar and long nights — like a college party, like a balcony, like a place far from here.

Like a time, far far away from this. You balance the stick between your fingers, pulling it away as you exhale the first drag. Blowing a cloud of grey smoke into the air, you lose yourself in it. You smoke and pass the time.

You can’t feel anything but that. The adrenaline crawls up your spine and makes your fingers all jittery. You lean into it without even meaning to. Four years down the drain, you think. It would’ve been 5 in a few months

But you take another drag anyway. Your joints hurt. You smoke, and when the feeling is starting to make your stomach sour - you reach into the pack for a can of beer and drink that to soothe your nerves.

Letting your head rest on the edge of the bench, you stretch yourself out. With a beer can on the ground, you ash your cigarette out. You stretch your arm over your face, the end still burning.

For one minute, you really had forgotten. The interaction at the store helped. The cigarette helped. The sleep helped. The beer helped.

But nothing was enough to make you forget it completely.

You fear that things might always feel like this. That even time can’t stretch itself over a wound this big. Would there ever be enough to fill the sudden crater of a loss like this, to ever fix you?

At some point, you’ll have to accept nothing can ever be the same..

For a long, long time - you cry by yourself. It’s not a desperate sob like it had been 2 weeks ago. It’s just an exhausted, soft little one. Somewhere, inside of yourself, you cry like a baby. Like a child aching to be held though part of you knows no one is there to listen. Self soothe, you say to yourself. Stop crying.

It’s not like you don’t know how to be alone. What that was like.

You just never thought you’d have to be again, and maybe you aren’t all the way. You’ve got a slew of concerned messages on your phone that you’ve been replying to automatically and you’ve been completely disconnected from everyone for a while now.

Reaching out to them will help. In time, you know that. When you’re ready you will. You don’t have the luxury to let the pain linger for as long as you know it will, as it has to. Eventually, you’ll get back up. Even now, the days pass silently without you living them.

You know everything there is to know. Of course, you do. You know what they’ll say. You know that they’ll feel sorry for you. You know Kirishima would’ve held you without ever hesitating. You know your mother would’ve welcomed you if you showed up without a word. Of course, you know.

But knowing where a wound is, you’ve learned, doesn’t make it stop hurting it. Knowing the cause, the color, the shape, and the taste of your injury will never heal it. Your familiarity with your pain doesn’t do anything at all, to make it stop.

You light another cigarette, sitting forward with your elbows on your knees. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you swear.

“Fuck.”

The memories suffocate you.

You met them both while you were in college. When you were a sophomore in college, they’d saved you from a villain attack. They weren’t dating then, but they made conversation with you after you’d gotten a pretty big injury.

You didn’t care for Bakugou at first. He was loud, mean, and crass. Midoriya has always been the same - friendly, awkward, genuine. Their friendship didn’t really make sense to you, like they spoke in a language you couldn’t ever learn. Midoriya always placated him. They looked at each other with a history that you never imagined having with anyone.

You never thought you would see them again, so you asked. Sitting in the back of an ambulance getting patched up - they told you the story of them. Like they’ve told it a hundred times before. Childhood friends, they told you. They wanted to become heroes, it was rocky then it wasn’t. Midoriya gushed about Bakugou’s ability the whole time, and Bakguou told him to fuck off but blushed the entire time.

You kept running into them, afterward. You were all convinced it was fate. They’d saved you 3 times before Bakugou told you to stop being an idiot with nothing but good intentions and maybe that’s when you knew you were in it.

It was a long time. Not an overnight spark or sense of magnetism, not destiny. Just luck. Just chance that deepened and grew roots over time. You don’t remember much of it in full, just bits and pieces. Like a drop of water building an ocean - you can’t count for each time.

You can name the rainstorms though, the floods, the days where it was clear they started to matter to you.

And they mattered to you a lot where it counted. You went to college in a city far from your hometown, and you didn’t make many friends so you could keep up with your scholarship. College was mostly very stressful. You were just trying to keep yourself but you met them. And you think afterwards you started living.

You knew about them from the beginning. How they looked at each other, not realizing how obvious they made it that they loved each other. Perhaps hiding it after everything felt unnatural.

You were content they wanted to be your friend. It was that simple. When they invited you out with them on their day off, you were confused but you always went. You were happy that they wanted you around.

They never stopped showing up for you. They went to your stupid club events and made a scene. Bought you gifts for the years you were sure you’d spend your birthday alone. Texted you on their patrols, first individually then together.

You learned to make your own friends too, but so much of your life is steeped in them. You thought, at first, that Midoirya took pity on you. You’ve always looked lonely. He was always the type to go out of his way for strangers. Bakugou just came along for the ride.

You realized later he never did anything he didn’t want to do. Even his admission meant that you were supposed to be there.

Time passed. And the two of them, slowly, brought you into their lives. You met their friends and attended their big awards and major achievements while they did yours. On weekend horror movie showings they dragged you along, and during Hero Expo season you always got V.I.P passes. You never told them you only ever went to see them.

They were busy people. It took you a long time to let yourself be a part of that at all. You would always be on the outside, you knew - but they were good to you. You got on with them both so easily, more than anyone else you’d ever met and it—

It felt special to you at least.

You think somewhere down the line, you were content to be an outsider. Everything about them had become so comfortable, that you would’ve been content staying in that same place forever. As an outsider, a watcher, a friend. Just a friend.

They started dating the year you were set to graduate college, and it really wasn’t all that different. Sometimes you caught them kissing, or hugging, or with a hickey on someone's neck but they treated you the same. Kept you at the same distance which wasn’t all that far.

It was in that same year, you realized you’d fallen in love with them both horribly.

Surprisingly, knowing that wasn’t all that bad. You knew it kind of instinctively when you realized it for the first time. It was shocking at first, but you were still content. You could swallow the ache in your chest seeing them happy. You were always an outsider to that, anyway. From the moment you met, there was history between them that would always surpass you and you knew that. Better than anyone. There was never a place for you to be, but you liked the one you had. You cherished that friendship so much you put it above your own feelings, for a long time. You had never met people who put you first so eagerly. Who went out of their way for you so often.

You like to believe they loved you like a friend. It helps to think that.

Four years. You’d loved them both, and so much - for four long years. You were just content to see them love each other because you could always tell they did. You wanted them to be happy.

Looking back they never put real distance between you both. You should’ve done that sooner.

More than anything. More than yourself. From the start, maybe you should’ve guarded your heart more. You were always weak to them. They were the only people to welcome you so much to anything, but maybe you should’ve—

When they broke up, you didn’t know what to do.

They’d always been.. together. For as long as you can remember.

It was Midoriya who showed up at your door. You should’ve sent him home. It’s your own fault, for cramming yourself into a space never meant for you.

He cried in your arms for two days and two nights. You felt sorry for him and texted Bakugou who told you to go fuck yourself. Whatever happened, neither of them would say or tell. It was serious. In the four years they’d been together, they fought but you never saw them like this.

Even though you dated for 6 months, your time with Midoriya all feels very blurry.

You blame yourself. No matter what anyone tells you, deep down, it would always be your fault. After those two days, he just needed someone to lean on.

It didn’t happen right away. Midoriya isn’t capable of that. It was after a few months of him visiting, of him dropping by, of him touching you. He leaned on you, even now - you don’t really know why.

You don’t really understand it but you think he must’ve mistaken the comfort you gave him for love. He’s only ever loved Bakugou so it’s possible he never really understood. You kissed, hugged, touched here and again but never had sex.

In hindsight, you’re glad about that.

Months passed like that, in each other’s company. Midoriya came back after work and slept in your bed every night. You woke up together. But you knew, that whole time, there was an inevitable end.

You always knew. When he hesitated when he looked at you. But sometimes, you got to see the melancholy go away. You watched movies and laughed, and made dinner together. There were enough happy memories to let you forget everything else.

It’s funny. Loving someone so wholly you wouldn’t ask them to love you back. No one would believe you if you told them, but even knowing you were just a stand-in - you were content to experience affection for a while. Like you mattered. You liked being able to make him happy.

You wanted Bakugou to be happy too, but every text you sent him got left on read. You called but never got a reply.

You figured he might’ve resented you. You wouldn’t blame him. Truthfully, you question what you ever had. Maybe you deluded yourself into thinking tolerance was longing. You tried that whole time to get them together, but they did it on their own.

He broke up with you after your new promotion. You never got a chance to tell him. The bottle of wine was still in your apartment.

Just like before, he cried for a long time. Said sorry more times than you knew what to do. He called himself selfish, apologized, said he still wanted to be friends, that Kacchan missed you too.

Over and over, he apologized to you.

You had always been an outsider. Even in your last minutes together, you comforted him when he cried. You didn’t know how to do anything else. You wish you felt contempt.

You’re mostly confused. None of it made any sense. But why would it? You’re just a stranger caught in a storm, too big for your boots.

It was when he said that one thing it broke you.

“I couldn’t stop seeing him in your face. I’m so so sorry. I should’ve never—”

You think that was the first time it all collapsed. Nothing registered after. He didn’t see you, even once. Maybe neither of them did. You were just someone they had been nice to. You got involved in this all by yourself.

You didn’t say anything to him. What would you have? All you said, very quietly at the end, was that you don’t want to see either of them again.

“Please respect that. And, I really do hope the both of you are happy.”

You cried for 3 days. You took your first days off from work, and your manager didn’t question your paid time off. It’s been 3 weeks, and you haven’t spoken to anyone.

And now you’re here, alone - halfway through a packet of cigarettes and hoping your next breath will carry you out of here. It’s freezing cold, and you're numb all over. You blame yourself, and it hurts so much it makes you sick. You want everything to disappear. You want to scream, cry, curl in on yourself.

But there’s nothing left for you to do or say. It’s all over, anyway. And it’s your fault for being greedy. For hoping that in the end, he would’ve at least seen you for what you were.

You’ve finished another cigarette. Your fourth one, which means you’ve only been sitting for 20 minutes. It feels like a century.

You wipe your eyes of stray tears, laughing to yourself.

“God, what the hell's wrong with me?”

Your throat is hoarse so you drink some more beer. You cool it on the cigarettes because you don't want to finish the pack before tomorrow.

You don’t even get to check your voice before a terribly familiar voice catches your attention.

You think for a second you're hallucinating.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Pro-Hero Deku, I’m doing some nightly patrols in this area. Do you need someone to escort you—“

Whatever higher power there is must be pretty sadistic. You hold your breath.

He stops in front of you. You freeze up completely. It doesn’t even feel real when you look at him. You blink a few times trying to make sure you’re seeing clearly.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

His voice is so soft. The same as you remember. You swallow your discomfort, frazzled. Don’t be greedy.

You pick your beer can up, drinking the last of it before trashing it.

“I didn’t know you patrolled here.”

You don’t have to see him to hear the frown in his voice.

“…I usually don't. I’m covering for Mindjack, but that’s.. why are you out here?” He says, voice filled with concern. You don’t know what to say, so you opt to say as little as possible.

“I live close by.”

He knows that. His frown deepens.

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“I just wanted to get some air. I’m going home now, anyway—”

“Wait a minute, please.”

You screw your eyes shut, back turned away from him. Every inch of your skin is burning. Your heart is sinking like it’s made of glass.

You sigh, voice trembling.

“What do you want?”

“Would you please turn around so we can at least talk face to face?”

You don’t mean to say it. You don't mean to sound so bitter and broken and utterly defeated. The words slip out of you like a tire losing air.

“Are you sure you know what it looks like when you’re not looking for someone else?”

He stiffens behind you.

“Please,” is all he says. Like it's all he needs to say. All he can really offer.

You only turn around so he can bear witness to your suffering. Not that you want him to feel guilty but maybe it’ll make him leave you alone. Your eyes are red and swollen when you turn to face him, hands in your pockets. You don’t look at him. You’re afraid to.

“…Have you been smoking?”

“Yeah.”

“But you were clean for—”

“It’s none of your business what I was or wasn’t, Midoriya.”

Midoriya. Not Izuku. Your stomach twists.

“Please don’t be like this.” He says, sounding desperate.

You smile. It's sorrowful. Everything is tangled and messy and confusing. Like everything was a lie, and you were the last person to know. You don’t get it anymore. Your voice comes out, worn and gentle.

“I always knew it would end. I was never under the illusion that you really loved me. That either of you did,” You start, voice breaking. It’s cathartic.

And if this is really the last time, you should say what you wanted.

“Of course we—why wouldn’t we—“

“I always knew you didn’t really feel that way. It was just… nice to feel like I was important. No one in my life ever went out of their way for me like the two of you did,”

His voice breaks.

“Y/N, please”

“I was always afraid to call you my best friends. It’s funny but it never felt right. Kirishima and Todoroki - they were your best friends. What was I, then? I never knew. You were always each other’s. And I was there, and we were so close. But I never really fit. It never really made any sense,”

He looks like he’s crying. You wish you could comfort him and you hate yourself for wanting to.

“I mostly feel pathetic. I think that’s all. I have nothing to show for everything I went through,” You laugh a little under your breath, wiping your tears “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t so eager to feel loved. To love you in what capacity I could. Maybe things would be different,”

You reflect on your life with them. All that life you lived with people who you probably won’t ever see again, they’re easy enough to avoid.

“It might be better if we pretend that we never knew each other. That way, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Kats—Bakugou won’t have to acknowledge me. And I can forget it all together,”

“I don’t want to lose y-you, and Kacchan he—”

You shake your head with a smile. Now that it’s all out, it feels clear. Of course, they loved you.

Just not enough.

Really, that’s all it's ever been.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You think this time, you’ll really be able to move on. He doesn’t reply, but you can hear him hiccup.

“I loved you both for four long years. That whole time. I was so happy we got to all be together, it didn’t even hurt. I don’t regret a lot of it. Maybe just those six months, and maybe not being able to see Bakugou. I miss him. I miss you too,”

You breathe. It finally feels alright to do it.

“But, I don’t want to see either of you ever again. If you’re in an emergency you can come to find me. I think it’s about time to move on,”

You can hear him calling out for you when you turn around. Asking to walk you home, but you know he won’t follow you. You just keep walking and don’t look back. You turn the corner and head down the empty street. Back home by yourself.

On the way, you smoke another cigarette. You keep the pack in your pocket.

You let go.

It’s just about that time, anyway.

Weeks pass by like their nothing.

Your confrontation with Midoriya knocked some of the sense back into you. You came home, cried for 15 minutes, and then took a long shower under hot water. Afterward, you put on some nice lotion, replied to emails, and picked out an outfit for going to work tomorrow.

Slowly but surely, you tried to get your life back in order to some degree. You threw yourself at your job since that made the most sense to you, working over time. Being alone with your thoughts for too long has proved to lead to drinking or smoking in excess, so you hang out with a crowd where you can.

You met with your friends, all of which have supported you completely but only yelled at you for isolating yourself, to begin with. You visited your parents where your dad threatened to knock Midoriya’s lights out, claiming he was still very strong. The sentiment made you feel warm.

You climbed yourself back into something of stability. It’s not like you’re over it. You feel considerably empty and fall into random fits of crying more often than you like and you still smoke whenever you feel the stress of a long day overtake you. But it’s notably better. You’re hanging on and you hadn’t really been before.

Some days are worse than others. Sometimes you pass a street vendor you used to frequent and have to sob over your steering wheel before going home. You see them in the news so often it’s starting to be funny in a dramatic irony sort of way - like the universe wants you to remember they exist.

You’ve been careful to avoid them, though, it’s not as easy to avoid their friends. Kirishima got choked up when you ran into each other, making you promise that you’d keep in contact. In the last few weeks, you’ve seen Jirou, Todoroki, and Shinso all of which seemed happy to see you doing okay.

It was nice. Knowing that they were your friend too, and not just someone who saw them by extension. No one really asked any invasive questions so you figured word got around.

It’s been alright. You’ve been okay at best. It’s mostly been lonely. You’re just trying to live with it, and you’re thinking about seeing a therapist just to get yourself sorted.

Today is a Wednesday. You switched out one of your days off to accompany Ganache to the vet for a routine check-up. It was early in the day, so you had the rest of it to yourself.

Lately, you’ve been texting the guy from the convenience store. His name is Akio, and he’s an exchange student. You mostly text back and forth about manga, and he does a thing where he sends you selfies where he ends up being. He’s cute and a good enough distraction from your misery, plus he’s actually pretty funny when he calls or texts.

You lean back into your couch, picking your feet up to get comfortable. You’re freshly showered and hairless after the impulse choice to shave. The TV is playing some daytime soap that you’re not normally home to see, and there’s a cold beer on a coaster waiting to be opened.

You swipe open your phone after receiving a text. It’s him, studying for an exam. That makes you laugh.

(from akio, 2:45pm): long day OTL

(sent 2:46): it’s my day off. do your best and maybe we can go drink.

(from akio, 2:46): wait really?

You laugh.

(sent 2:47) only if you do your work ❤️

(from akio, 2:48): ON IT. where do you wanna get drinks?

You conjure up a location, close-by where you leave - sending him to it. You watch him type back with a laugh.

(from akio, sent 2:48): im suddenly very busy and im gonna finish studying. see you at 6?

(sent: 2:9): see you at 6

He sends you a slew of very excited emojis and you bite your lip. Admittedly, you feel a little guilty. Though you’re careful to make your intentions clear, a guy so eager to even be in your presence is a nice change. A little harmless flirting has been good for your self-esteem and he’s a great guy. Him being younger than you isn’t as deterrent when you check his Instagram and find out he’s very jacked.

You feel a little embarrassed by the whole thing and all the time. But it’s nice to be wanted and send risque selfies to get a hesitant reply. It might be good to sleep with him, get your mind off of it.

You only ever dated on guy in college and hooked up with a couple of people that you can count on your hand. Your relationship was nice but not memorable, and you broke up over a disagreement about finances in your junior year. After that, you went on sparse dates to keep up appearances.

But it felt wrong to even try when your heart was in other place. So now, you’re just being careful and having fun. And it is fun.

Maybe you can get laid. He seems like he’d have good stamina.

You cover your own face in embarrassment at the train of thought, giggling.

“Fuck what am I even thinking about?”

You shake your head like you’re trying to shoo the thoughts away. You reach over for the beer on the table, shivering as the cold can comes in contact with your skin. Undoing the tab, you take a long sip - warmed by the taste. You don’t even know what flavor this is supposed to be since it was a gift but it’s expensive and malty.

You drink and watch the T.V. A girl caught in a love triangle with two male leads. Both of the male leads are rich and powerful, and the girl comes from a small town. You snort.

“Get out of there while you can, little lady. Save yourself.”

You don’t know how long you sit there and melt into your couch, watching the TV and scrolling on your phone. Doing something productive feels out of reach for now and you’re comfortable passing the day like this. You haven’t really had a normal day of relaxation that doesn’t devolve rapidly into feeling sorry for yourself, so even being able to sit around be lazy without any other pretense feels luxurious.

You think you spend 2 hours like that before your body signals you that it needs fed. Ganache comes up to sit on your lap, accompanying you while you order something to eat. Your finger reacches out for her little head, scratching just under her chin.

“You’re getting hungry too, huh?”

She lets out a soft purr before plopping her head against your bare thigh. You smile, perusing what feels like hundreds of options. It always feels like picking a place is the hardest part.

Trying not to be paralyzed by choice, you jump out of your skin when you hear the doorbell ring. Your cat hops off of your lap at the noise. With furrowed brows, you try to think about who would be ringing your door without dropping by first.

You ordered a new air purifier for your room last week. Maybe it came early? You would’ve got a notification from them, wouldn’t you? You shake your head. Either way, you’d prefer to have it instead of having to pick it up from the post office.

On pure chance that it is that, you stand up and dust yourself off. Pulling your shorts down slightly, you grab a zip-up hoodie from the side of your couch making sure nothing is falling out. You pad softly to the door, unlocking it.

“Hello?”

As soon as you open the door, you see the last person you were expecting. Everything just sort of.. stops in it’s place. For a minute, you don’t breathe. You don’t think. You just… tense. And stare, your hands on door knob. Debating whether or not you should even open it all the way, or say anything.

You would close it if you didn’t see his face. You’ve never seen him look so tired, and seeing that makes your heart drop into your gut.

“...Bakugou?”

He looks up and then looks at you. His shoulders sag in what seems like relief but you can’t be certain.

“What are you…?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again like he’s come up short on the right words. He’s not in his costume for work, and his hands are in his pockets. He’s bigger than you by a mile, but he looks.. terribly small. Maybe frail. Not like himself.

“Hey.” He says, short and quiet. His hand reaches up around his neck “Can we talk?”

Your gut reaction is to turn him down. You’ve made all this progress, and you think that letting him in through the door would be ruining it. But he looks so depserate, and that looks so unusual. He doesn’t look angry, and that scares you.

You don’t mean to let him, but you owe him that much you think. Answers for those 6 months. He was blameless for everything that had happened between the two of you, anyways. You open the door, stepping to one side.

He looks at you, a pained expression passing over him before stepping in. Your breath catches, quietly watching as he takes off his combat boots. Ganache meanders over to him. She was always fond of Bakugou. You watch the two of them interact and you feel your heart rip in half.

Your entanglements show in ways you don’t expect. It’s too much.

He wears the house slippers left out for him, almost out of habit. And then he looks at you for a minte. You snap out of your trance, scratching your cheek.

“Oh, uhm. You can… sit. Did you want a drink maybe? A beer?”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to be so damn courteous to me,” He says. Your expressions softens, heart squeezed in your ribs. The disparity settles in the bottom of your lungs, crawling up your throat like a bile. It’s still so early in the day. You can see his expression so clearly. So obviously melancholy.

You choke around the words.

“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be,” You say. You offer him a half-smile. It’s true. You never really had any reason to be angry with him. If he hated or resented you, it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it.

He closes his eyes than looks away, silently walking off to your living room. You follow him, sitting diagonal to him. You stare at your feet, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. Fidgeting.

You don’t know how long you sit there. The TV is muted, so you direct your eyes to the soaps - trying to avoid the obvious.

Bakugou breaks the silence first.

“You’re smokin’ again.”

His voice of devoid of anything you can read. You look at the ash-tray on the table, before you nod.

“Yeah.” You reply simply. He leans forward on his elbows.

“...You haven’t smoked since college grad.” He says. You smile.

“Yeah.”

You’ve been alone with Bakugou before. Engaged in quiet, comfortable silences. Midoriya normally did the talking for you, so the two of you were accustomed to letting him ramble. Alone though, you normally just enjoyed each others company or talked in depth about something you found important.

When he wasn’t blowing a fuse, you found Bakugou intelligent and practical. You talked about a lot of things, like money and the failings of the Hero Commission and the news. Stuff people found boring, he would normally have something to say. He was always opinionated on everything. Movie, music, books.

You haven’t seen him in over half a year. Not in person, anyway. It’s hard to avoid the number one and two hero in media as it would be.

“I don’t wanna kick you out or anything. Uh, we have a lot to talk about I guess. I just—I’m going out for drinks at 6 so—”

He cuts in abruptly.

“With who?”

You pull back.

“...A guy I met the other day.”

His jaw clenches. Irritation passes over his face as he scrubs a palm over it. He looks upset but you can’t figure out why.

“Have I met him?”

You shake your head.

“Probably not. He’s in college. Met him while I was buying cigarettes, actually.” You muse, feeling fond. “He’s a good kid.”

“Are you—Are you interested him?”

Your eyes widen, staring at him. His voice is holding something in it, half-way between anger and sadness. You don’t really understand him or why he seems like that. Does he think you’re moving on too fast from Izuku?

But that doesn’t feel right to you either. Maybe seeing you happy is upsetting. You don’t know.

“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking. We just.. talk. Flirt, I guess.” You say, shaking your head. You turn your attention back on him “Don’t know why that’s important. What’d you wanna talk about?”

His eyes widen, and then his face fall. You’re more confused than before.

“Don’t know why that’s important huh?”

You watch him. His face after you’ve said that. He looks upset. Part of you thinks you’re imagining it. But you’ve never seen him look like this. He buries his face in his hands, swearing.

“Fuck this.. fuck this is—”

You decide to interject.

“I don’t know why you’re here but since you are I wanted to say… I wanted to say sorry. I figure that’s why you’re here. That it’s related to that somehow, but before anything I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

It’s been on the tip of your tongue. Weighted, heavy on the inside and impatiently trying to pry itself from between your teeth. Your words come out in a jumbled mess. Part of you can’t help but expect rejection. You sit here, and stare at him and you think to yourself that you’re sorry.

You understand Midoriya at times like this. But you won’t say it more than once, fearful it’ll be a burden to you both. You just spit it out. Like a loose tooth. The blood comes after, filling your tongue with bitter taste of iron.

Lately, you’ve lost the words for heartache. Ache as in bruise, as in hurt that’s lingered for a long time. Your heart aches terribly, and every passing day feels like being trampled on. You look at Bakugou when you say sorry, and your heart expands into the stiffness of your ribs. And it hurts all over, like one raw injury. Lately the taste of your suffering is a cigarette and beer. You wonder what that says about you.

You feel something thick in your throat, looking away.

“Why the fuck are you saying sorry?” He asks, voice shaking with anger. You wince.

“For everything.” You say, griefstricken with every word. You feel your vision get blurry, looking away as you try to take the tremble out of your voice “Sorry for everything, Katsuki.”

You try your best not to cry but you can feel the gaping hole reopen in your chest. You wish this was just a reunion. The longing is so sharp and so endless. It wasn’t like Midoriya. You didn’t have memories to help you cope. You never got a chance to tell him thank you or i love you.

He had always made it clear he didn’t want you around, but you still.. still found yourself clinging to his tolerance. To the fact he was always the first one to reach for you. That he listened to you intently and pushed you to do what you wanted.

Midoriya was soft. Comfortable. Bakugou was tough. He held you steady through all your stress. Cleaned your apartment when life was too much to bear and picked you up at your lowest without a word of judgement.

And in the end you touched the one thing that was never yours. You thought it would be okay because you hadn’t seen him for 7 long months in person. It would’ve beem if you hadn’t seen him again.

But he’s here just the same. And you love him. You love him so much, so deeply, and all at once you feel consumed by the reminder. It burns inside of you hotly. The tears flow naturally.

Don’t be greedy, you tell yourself. This is the universes way of reminding you of what you did. There was never any place for you.

“Hey, fuck. Sweetheart, stop cryin’. Please just fucking look at me, can’t stand seeing you cry,”

You can’t stop yourself from wailing. It’s ugly, and loud, and horrible. No matter how much you try to clamp it down, it spills from between your fingers and stains everything. Your whole body shakes with it. Hiccuping, you swallow a noise of distress.

“I didn’t m-mean for it to end like this. I didn’t want—I didn’t want to hurt you, either of you I just. I got selfish a-and I—fuck, I got greedy. I never meant to, I didn’t want this.”

Before you understand what’s happening, you feel a body around you.

Strong arms. Bakugou’s arms. He’s standing up to hug you, and you can feel him trembling when he pulls you to him. Your heart squeezes, but you don’t let yourself sink. His hands cup the back of your head, and you sob softly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck. I’m such an idiot. Please stop crying, sweetheart. Please.”

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry”

For a while, you can’t do anything but weep. Bakugou doesn’t let go of you. He’s never been good at comforting people, but his grip on you is tight. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like that, sobbing into his arms with your fingers in his shirt.

Your head feels messy, throbbing when you finally manage to stop. You pull away, your eyes swollen. You lick your lips, chapped before pulling back.

“Thanks for comforting me.” You say, pulling away. You try to anyway.

Bakugou cups your face in his hands. It catches you off guard, the feeling of his calloused palms. He lifts your face, examining you. Your mouth parts in confusion, as you feel his thumb running under your eyes.

“All fucking wrong. We did this shit all so fucking wrong.”

“B-Bakugou?”

He doesn’t let go of you. Just looks for a long time.

“Bakugou?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Why’re you..?”

“I missed you.�� He says in a murmur, soft and uneasy and so regretful it stuns you “I’m so fucking sorry. We whoulda never—I’m gonna kick that shitnerds ass, swear.”

“You…what?”

He lets go of you, then runs a hand through his hair.

“You should.. text your friend or whatever. We should talk.”

Bakugou looks at you apologetically, handing your phone. You watch him disappear into your kitchen, pouring you a glass of water and handing you some tissues. You don’t know what to say, completely dazed. You send Akio a text, making an excuse about a work emergency and saying you’ll drink with him this Saturday.

Bakugou hands you the glass, leaving your tissues on the coffee table before sitting right where he was.

For the first time, you’re completely at a loss.

“I don’t understand.” Are the first words out of your mouth. Bakugou gives you a laugh.

“With the way shits been going, don’t know why you would.”

“D-Did something happen between you and Midoriya?”

He frowns.

“Fuck, no. Promise no stupid shit this time. Izuku just told me I should come talk to you.”

“…He did?”

He smiles at you.

“Yeah, he did. Not like I’m any better at this shit than he is, but he said you weren’t gonna listen to him,” He pauses, turning away from him “Said you never wanted to see him again.”

You look at your lap, listening to the sound of passing cars.

“I thought it’d be for the best. It’s uhm.. It’s hard for me to see either of you. You know,”

There’s a tense look on Bakugou’s face when he stares at you. You’ve never seen it before.

“…Did you mean what you said to Deku?”

Your throat constricts.

“A-about?”

“About your feelings. For the both of us, you said—“

You feel your heart race, uncomfortable.

“…Does it matter?”

“Matters a hell of a lot.”

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. Over and over, the word sticks to you. Don’t get greedy. You want to say nothing. To close your eyes and deny it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

You feel your sense of stability crumble the instant the words leave your mouth. Like a sandcastle collapsed under the tide, you melt into unease.

Your eyes sting with fresh tears that you hurry to wipe away. You don’t even know what they’re for.

“Hey. Stop, look—it’s not what you think, alright? The feeling is mutual, but you've gotta listen to me.”

Your eyes widen. Looking up again, you frantically look at his face then shake your head. Did you mishear?

“It’s what?”

“It’s mutual. We both… it’s a lot to explain alright? But from the beginning, it’s been mutual and it wasn’t some freak accident you ended up in our lives. I don’t want you thinkin’ that”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You shake your head.

“I don’t…I don’t get it. From the beginning? You say you both have feelings for me, but I haven’t seen you in 7 months. A-and I-Izuku said—”

Bakugou grits his teeth suddenly. He looks sharp, vicious.

“Ignore what that half-brained idiot said, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

You sit back, unsure of how to proceed. You want to be shocked, or even angry but all you feel is confusion. You fiddle with your hands, and hear Bakugou sigh over his. His voice sounds exhausted.

“All those months ago, when Izuku and I got into a fight… we were fighting over you.”

The world comes to a halt. You choke on a gasp of air. Bakugou doesn’t pick his head up to look at you. The sun shadows the shame on his shoulders before you get a minute to speak. His face softens, then regret sifts through.

He looks tired. Terribly tired.

“It was because of me. Izuku… he realized how he felt early on. How we both did. He brought it up to me and I just…froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

You hold your breath as you watch his face.

“You…?”

“We fought about it. I blew up on him, and he wouldn’t back down on the whole thing. I was scared outta my mind. Me.. and Izuku - it took us a long time to get where we were.”

You laugh a little at that, scratching your hand.

“Yeah I know.”

He lets out a puff of air.

“I bet you do. It freaked me out. It wasn’t like… I didn’t realize. We fought and I told him to go fuck off and be with you then. I regretted as soon as I did, but he walked off. Left me alone for a while.”

You frown.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t… I didn’t want that for you. I was a-always worried about you.”

He gives you a light-hearted scoff.

“I know. I got every call and text, sweetheart. Truth to be told, I would’ve lost my fucking mind if you hadn’t. That whole time.., you were looking out us both. I was still pissed, so I threw myself at my job. Saw Deku and got into some altercations.”

This surprises you. It makes sense. It’s hard to avoid each other, you’re sure. You wonder why Deku never told you, but all those days he came home extra upset - maybe it was that.

“I had no idea.”

“With the way you texted me updates, I figured he didn’t tell you. He’s a shit-head like that. Keeps everything in and then lets it all out. He forgets that he’s a human being sometimes.”

“It makes sense but…what happened? How’d you get here?”

“We had a big fight and made up, eventually. I hadn’t really thought about anything. I was working over-time to avoid it, but I was so angry all the time I didn’t feel like myself. Shitty Hair and them kept me calm.”

“Kirishima cried when he saw me,” You say in a daze. Bakugou laughs.

“He was pissed at me when I told him everything.”

“Kirishima was?”

“You think he’s nice like the rest of ‘em but he’s scary as fuck when he’s mad. He didn’t let me hear the end of it for fucking up. And I’m…sorry for that. For fucking this up.”

You shake your head at him.

“I don’t blame you. I still don’t really understand it, but I should’ve pushed him away. My feelings were getting in the way, and I didn’t think about how I was—”

“Hey. Stop that. Get this through your head, you didn’t do shit. Izuku leaned on you because he fucking cares about you.”

“But he said—”

“We’re not complete without each other.”

Everything stops in an abrupt manner. His words are muddled, like they’ve been shaken around in his heart for much longer than you thought.

“Izuku doesn’t know his own feelings. He thought that I was right. He thought he just misunderstood himself and he’s always been like that. He’s not good at knowing his own shit.”

And then, you think you see him cry. You don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen Bakugou Katsuki cry but his eyes look red.

“We tried. To go back to how things were, we tried so fuckin’ hard sweetheart. You never wanted to see us again and I was too damn stubborn to admit to myself not getting your texts was breaking me. We tried.”

You swallow the feeling in your throat. You’re so disoriented.

“And..?”

“It didn’t work. We couldn’t stop arguing and it wasn’t like before. We were both on edge all the time and we both knew why. Izuku realized his feelings after you left. And I couldn’t deny that the idea of never seeing you again fucking broke me.”

You don’t think you could cry anymore if you tried, but you manage.

“I just… it doesn’t feel real. You two have so much history. Without me. A whole life together and there’s no space for me to be involved. You love each other so much, how could you love me too? How could it ever compare?”

“How could we not fucking love you, sweetheart? All those years together. You kept us grounded for how long? I never knew what it meant.. whatever bullshit Deku talked about saving people. But then we met you and I would’ve done anything to keep you safe.”

“Katsuki,”

You don’t even know what to do anymore. What to think or believe.

“Deku loves you to death. I can see it on his face. He loves seeing you with your dumbass cat. He loves listening to you recite lines from movies.”

“And you?”

“And I’m here trying to convince you I’m still worth your time. I can’t do all that sappy shit. This is all I got.”

“You’re doing fine.” You say with a smile. He smiles back.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke right now.” He admits.

“I’m just scared. None of this feels real to me.”

“When that shitnerd and I got together, I couldn’t get my head around it for 3 days. I was terrified of what that meant for me. Being vulnerable with people is terrifying and I still can’t stand it.”

“Yeah.”

“But if I never confronted my fears, I would’ve been alone and blind for the rest of my life. Shit gets bad. You fuck up and fight and things are hard - but it’s way fucking better to fight with people you love than it is to by yourself with your misery. Life got easier when I let myself feel my feelings and whatnot.”

“You sound really wise.”

He laughs under his breath.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m being serious. You sound so mature and stuff.”

“And stuff? You been hanging around that college brat way too much.” He says through gritted teeth. You laugh.

“He’s nice, Katsuki.”

“He can kiss my fucking ass, corrupting you with his bullshit—”

“He is not doing that!”

“You think I don’t see your legs shaven? You’re a shit liar.”

“It was coincidence. I was gonna sleep with him though.” You say the last part a little quieter. He immediately gets mad again.

“The hell you are.”

You give him a smile, crinkling your nose.

“Jeez, it’s not even your business, you know.”

He groans.

“My hearts too weak for that right now, yeah? Be fucking easy on me.”

You look down at your lap, unsure of what else too. Your voice is hoarse so you reach for the glass on the table.

“Sorry. Just… processing, I guess.”

Neither of you talk for a long while. It’s just.. silent. It’s starting to get dark out, but not enough that it’s noticeable. The sunset is just teetering around the skyline. You take a deep long breath, tapping your foot. Picking the skin on your fingers. Fighting the urge to smoke an entire packet, you take a long breath.

“Hey.”

You lift your head to look at him. He looks nervous.

“Is it okay if I… fuck, like would it be okay if I kissed you?”

You nearly cough up a lung from shock.

“Would that be okay? Wouldn’t Izuku be—”

Bakugou gives you a little grin.

“He got 6 months. He’ll get over it.”

You squirm a little in your chair heart. Heart-racing.

“...T-Then, it’d be okay. I guess.”

“C’mere.”

You feel shaky when you stand to your feet. Awkward. But as soon as you’re in reaching distance, you feel Bakugou’s hand touch yours. His hands are nice. Smooth and long and nimble but calloused on some parts. Irrevocably warm, when they wrap around your pointer.

“If I do something you don’t like, headbutt me,” He offers. You frown at him,

“I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah,”

Without word, you feel him touch you. One hand busies itself with your hands, palms running up the back side of your forearm, then over the top before opening your hands to him. Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie with it and exposing your skin to cool air. He touches you quietly, thoughtfully passing down until he’s holding your hand. Not with your your fingers intertwined, but cupped against yours in a silent, gentle reprieve.

The other hand rests on the back of your thigh before brushing behind your knee and staying there. He’s just holding you, and there’s nothing especially risky about it. But it leaves you a mess, enough that you can’t even look at him.

He tugs you to him. Spreading his legs, shifting to help you into his lap. Like a lamb to shepherd, you follow. Too dazed to protest him, he looks up at you and you look down at him. He brings your hands to his chest, and you slink them around his neck. He leans you forward until you’re only a few inches apart, breath mingling.

He smells like smoke. You take a deep breath, studying his face before realizing his doing the same to. His eyes are outlining your mouth.

“You smell like cigarettes.” He tells you.

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head.

“You made me like the smell way back. Used to think it was awful.”

“And now?”

“Now it makes me lightheaded.”

“Like you wanna kiss me?” You tease. He takes a deep breath.

“So fucking bad.”

“Kiss me, Katuski.”

“Mm,”

His mouth is soft. You think that first. Even as your bodies so desperately and almost wholly on instinct, your skin starting to buzzy faintly. It’s so utterly blissful all you can think to feel is that he’s soft. He tastes sweet. His hands are the back of your thighs squeezing tight and you want them forever. You like that he lets you lead a little, and you take pleasure in touching him.

Squeezing the back of his neck, you thread your fingers gently through his hair. Soft and ticklish against your fingers - he lets out a moan when you squeeze at the root. You did again and he does it one more time. Something warm unfurls in your stomach, starting to unwind like loose thread.

“You sound pretty like that.” You tell him once you pull away. He shivers.

“You’re gonna put me in an early grave,”

“So you’re just gonna let Izuku become number one?”

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen all day. It looks so familiar on him, your chest feels like it’s being crushed.

“Not a chance in fucking hell.”

“That’s the spirit, Katsuki.”

“Speaking of.. we should probably invite that lewd nerd over here.” He says, burying his face in your neck. You hug him close to your chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna cry the whole damn time. Been losing his shit all day.”

“Poor Izuku.”

“He’s gonna cry when you call him that too. Cried about being Midoriya for 2 whole days.”

“He’s such a baby.”

Bakugo smiles into your neck.

“I’d cry too.”

You wait for Izuku to come back to your apartment at your front door, with Bakugou clinging to your shoulders.

Nothing much had happened since your kiss. You and Bakugou laid together and made-out to pass the time - watching TV and quietly catching up. When Izuku sent you a text about being 5 minutes out, you decided to wait at the door to greet him.

You feel like the whole day has been one long dream. Seeing Izuku, you think, will make it feel more real.

When you hear the nob of your front door turn, you look up at Bakugou with excitement. He looks down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, his voice a soft, excited murmur in your ear.

“He’s gonna cry right away.” He says, hushed, tone light. Amused. You elbow him.

“Don’t be mean, Katsuki.”

Your breath hitches when you do see the door open. He looks a little disoriented when he passes the threshold into your apartment. His dark green curls are messy from the wind and he’s all out of breath like his heart is racing.

You smile at him as soon as he lifts his head up to look you. His lower lip trembles with immediacy, hands flying up to his face to catch the tears already threatening to spill. You feel Bakugou squeeze a little tighter around your waist, smiling into your neck.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”

“Oh god.”

You forget how big he is until he runs forward to tackle you both in his arms. You hear Bakugou fuss over you, something about you damn crybaby being mumbled. But more than that, you feel the familiar warmth of Deku. Izuku and Katsuki, all together. He smells like the sun and sweat, , it’s familiar and comfortable. Like home. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his midriff. You melt into the touch, as easy as it always been.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I love you.”

When he pulls away, he’s already blubbering. His skin is a blotchy, familiar red and his eyes are watery. He looks down at you like you aren’t real. He’s the tallest of the three of you, so you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him.

Familiar. Your hands touch base at his chest before running up, cradling his face in your hands. You swipe the tears from him, giving him a biggrin.

“I missed you, Izuku.”

“Oh god, oh god—Can I?—Wanna kiss you both so bad, missed you so much, I’m so happy.”

“Slow down, you idiot. You’re gonna scare ‘em, jeez.” Katsuki says, but his face betrays him. You can see that he wants that too, when you look up. They both look at you expectantly, and you nod.

Izuku kisses you first. It’s just like him, terribly overwhelmed. He tastes mildly like salt, maybe from all the tears. He grabs your face and presses your lips to you like the world will end if he doesn’t. He does it once, pulls away, and does it two more times just to be safe. You giggle when he pulls away, looking at you in your eyes.

“We should t-talk properly, but I’m so so sorry, I just—”

You look at him. The scars all over him. The splattered freckles along the bridge of his nose and his dark lashes. You shake your head.

“Later,” — You offer, fingers slipping under his shirt — “Need you both.” You say, a little quieter.

This makes his eyes go wide before he pulls back completely, covering his face with hands. You hear Katsuki laugh behind you.

“Lewd fucking nerd.” He says, with a terrible amount of affection. Izuku’s voice goes raspy.

“Shut up, Kacchan.”

“Oh that’s right. The two of you never went all the way, right?”

You flush this time.

Katsuki nips at your neck with his teeth, soft and playful.

“You’re gonna make him cum in his pants, sweetheart,”

You feel something tickle in the back of your throat.

“I thought you weren’t… uhm. You know. Into me.” You admit. Izuku’s eyes widen so far his brows touch his hairline. Katsuku shake with laughter behind you.

“You got no idea how fucking gross he is. Haah, that’s funny. Not into you my ass.”

“Kacchan!”

Before you register it, Katsuki whispers in your ears. They’re making eye-contact with each other with you sandwiched in the middle. They’re both so much. Too much for any one person to handle, you don’t know how you’re going to do it.

Katsuki’s voice is smug.

“Reach your hand out. Go on,”

You do as he says, convinced you should. You want to. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before but never fully. You never really did anything, you just…

You touch it. Touch him. Your whole body goes hot as you feel something heavy in the palm of your hand. thick. It twitches against the material of his pants. Above you, Izuku shudders. His whole body shakes slightly.

“I didn’t even…”

“You think I call him ‘lewd nerd’ for fun. He’s a pervert, sweets. It’s just how it is.”

Your heart races. Fuck, what are you getting yourself into right now?

But it feels right. And with the both of them over you, the warmth of their bodies and strong forms - you can’t help but want to fall into it. You close your eyes, look up and glancing at both of them.

“I wanna do it.” You whisper, low. You feel your skin prickle with heat. Izuku groans and Katsuki chuckles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

From the moment you stumble in your bedroom, everything around sort of disappears.

You’re quick to lock the door behind you, to ensure your cat doesn’t follow you but the moment you’re in - you’re practically surrounded. The energy alone is enough to melt your spine. Izuku carries you in his arms and Katsuki trails behind you, giving you a vicisious grin that makes you wetter than you know to handle.

It’s all very messy and desperate, trying to situate yourself into the bed. They keep you in the middle the entire time. At times like these, you’re grateful for the investment you made in your firm mattress. The two of them alone take up so much of the once roomy king-sized you find it hard to breathe.

You’re sitting on your legs with Katsuki mirroring you, behind you. Izuku hovers over you like a shadow. Your head feels jumbled with everything surrounding you. The first thing you feel is the shape of Katsuki’s mouth. His lips are tender and soft, pressing into your shoulder blade. You let out a fluttery little sigh, unsure of what to do.

It’s disorienting as much as it’s hot. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, two people who are wholly enigmatic without each other. Together you’re like stars colliding. Or maybe, yu’re the world between them, keeping them at bay - squeezed by the matter of their existence. Katsuki’s hand travel under your t-shirt, his hands squeezing your waist.

Izuku tilts your head up to kiss you first, then reach over your shoulder kissing Katsuki. You think, sometimes, you like seeing them kiss more than you like being kissed on your own.

“You’re so pretty… She’s so pretty, right Kacchan?”

He does an affirmative hum behind you. Heat rips through you, as Bakugou’s hands reach up. He cups your tits, bare underneath the fabric of your shirt. His chest rumbles with a groan, thumb, and pointer tweaking your nipples till they're hard. You let out a soft mewl.

“Fuck.. fuck look at that.”

He’s not talking to you, but to Izuku who’s watching you both with a shadowy expression. His eyes suddenly look dark. Terribly and utterly focused on your tits, where your nipples peek through your cotton white t-shirt. You would’ve worn something cute if you had the time. Thank god you showered at all, though you don’t think either of them would care.

Instead of answering, Izuku tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You feel Katsuki behind you, lifting the material up. They work together well. You raise your hands to let it to taken off, feeling shy you try to tuck your chin. Izuku’s quick to draw you back, using his hand to turn your head with a gentle force. He’s soft, but authoritative. It shakes you to your core.

“Hey. None of that okay. Keey your eyes on us.”

“What he said, sweetheart.”

You gasp a little as your bare skin touches the cold air. Goosebumps raise in patches all over your body.

At a loss for words, your eyes follow Izuku in his movements. How he scoots back on the bed, then dips his head down. His mouth is a surprise - he kisses down your sternum and with no warning at all - gropes your chest like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

It’s different from before. The way he squeezes them in his palms, pushes them together, watches them move and spill between his finger. He’s taking his time to explore you with the single-minded focus he always gets. His tongue planes over the hardened buds, around the creased skin before sucking the whole thing into his mouth.

You throw your head back, mouth open in a quiet gasp. Katsuki slowly slides your hands over your navel, across your stomach. Around your middle, his fingers fidget with the waist-band of your shorts, before dipping into the line. Your thighs squeeze instinctively, chewing the inside of your cheek.

It’s too much. You whimper a little as Izuku pays attention to your tits, your body flaring upr. Izuku is shameless in wanting you. His eyes are so focused on your every move, and his hands feel so impossibly big. It feels like he could eat you, swallow you - the way he touches you so shamelessly.

You’re so aroused. Wet enough that it’s soaking your cotton panties all the way through. It’s humiliating when Katsuki touches just over the seam, how his finger soaks on the damp spot.

“You’re making her so wet, nerd.”

“Really, Kacchan?”

“Fuck, yeah. She’s soaked. Feel good?”

The last part is talking to you. Izuku rubs your nipples with his thumbs, hands cradling your sides when you nod,

“Feels good.” You say back, halfway panting. You open your eyes up to look over at Izuku, then look back to Katsuki “I want you guys to take it off. Too many clothes.”

Katsuki laughs behind you, and you feel him pull away. Izuku places a kiss on your hairline. You scoot over, away from them, and watch them as you get undressed.

Your eyes land on Katsuki first. You’ve seen Izuku naked before, almost completely. You’d never seen Katsuki, so you watch. He catches you staring, giving you a little smirk before he turns over to you.

“You’re a freak too. Gettin’ off on watching me strip.”

You lean back on your palms.

“Should I tip you?”

He laughs.

“Fuck off.”

He takes it off a little more deliberately. Your eyes follow the curves in his body. The two of them are so stupidly jacked. Katsuki is a little leaner in his make up. His strength is concentrated in his back muscles and his arms. You see it when he reaches over his head. He’s lithe, smooth everywhere else but his arms are pure and almost brutish. It’s so sexy on him. There’s only one big scar on his body that you already know the story of.

You don’t even realize you’re staring at him until you hear his voice, smug as he calls you over.

“You wanna touch it?”

You nod, a little sheepish about being caught. Crawling over to him, you’re standing on your knee.. Izuku watches the two of you, out of the corner of his eyes. His lower lip is tugged, pressed under his teeth.

You let your fingers do the guiding. You start at his waist. He looks at you, intent. He’s artwork, you fight the urge to treat him rough - your fingers tracing over his obliques. Gently grabbing him, you trace all the way up the natural lines of his body, Even without flexing, you can see his physique. Your palms plane over the muscle of his back and arms before curling around his shoulders.

“You’re arms are so nice.”

“Yeah?”

“And you’re…”

Words escape you when you look down. His chest.. fuck. Katsuki is pale everywhere. His nipples are pink against his skin, noticeably bright. The cold season makes him pale where as Izuku is always tan. His chest is so fucking big. It’s so distracting you lose whatever you want to say. Your hands drop then reach forward, and without so much as a choice - you squeeze the fat of his chest between your fingers just like Izuku had been before.

Izuku comes up behind you. The two of them share a look you don’t have the mind to pay attention to.

“Kacchan has nice tits, doesn’t he?”

“Go fuck yourself, Deku.”

Your mouth feels so dry.

“Y-Yeah.”

“They’re sensitive.” Izuku tells you, voice thick. Revenge, or something along those lines. It piques your interest.

“Yeah?”

“Flick them. He likes it.”

When you look at Katsuki’s face it’s strained. A warm shade of pink dances over every inch of his exposed skin, and he’s holding his breath. Oh, you think. He wants this.

You flick his nipples and watch as his whole body crumbles forward. He drops his head on his shoulders, as you tweak and play with them. His voice is raspy, teeth gritted.

“Fuck, y-you’re evil. Fuck, there.”

“Pick your head up, Kat.”

He does so. He looks.. soft. Pretty. His eyes are a little glassy. You lean forward, letting your mouth close around one of his tits. He cries out, wobbly. Izuku is quick to keep him steady, hands reaching around to his hips.

“You learn fast.”

You hum sucking on each of them. Katsuki is a mess over you. His body is so hot, and you can see his cock against his clothes. You stay like that, the three of you stood on your knees with just enough space to tease and touch. Your body relishes the contact, mind-swimming. You indulge your desires to explore, tentatively testing the boundaries.

You pull away briefly saliva making his tits shiny. He looks at you, dazed.

“Can I leave marks on either of you?”

“Freak.” Katsuki says. You flush.

“Should be fine. Kacchan is wearing his winter costume, anyway.”

You nod your head, then let your tongue lave over Katsuki’s neck before biting and sucking. You leave it a little under the collar, low enough to be easily covered. He lets out a soft hiss.

“You’re so touchy with me. Gonna leave Izuku out to dry?”

You laugh, rubbing your cheek into his pec. Grabbing his ass, he gives you a little scowl but doesn’t tell you to stop.

“I never got to touch you. I touched Izuku at least.”

You feel Izuku’s chin on your shoulder.

“Kacchan’s right though, I feel neglected.”

Izuku’s arm closes around your waist. You turn your head slightly, enough to see him behind him.

“You want a hickey too?”

Izuku buries his face in your neck.

“Mm, maybe,”

“Are you both usually this needy?” You ask amused.

“You would be too if you were us, y’know?”

You think on what he’s said. Surrounded by the warmth of their bodies, you laugh.

“You had each other,” You tease. Katsuki scoffs and Izuku sounds like he’s whining. They’re both cute when they act like that.

“Like you didn’t have your fucking boy-toy.” Katsuki spits, petty jealousy clear in his voice. Izuku suddenly gets very tense and pulls away.

The utter devastation in his voice makes you feel a little bad, but another part of you feels vindicated and kinda happy they care. You hide a smile.

“...Are you seeing someone else?”

“If I was?”

Izuku makes a face you can only describe as heartbroken, making you burst out in laughter.

“Izuku, I was just kidding! Stop looking so sad.”

“You’re so mean.”

To think you could bring the number one hero in the country to tears fills you with silent pride. Katsuki pipes up behind you.

“She was gonna fuck him. Her legs are all shaved.”

Izuku gasps scandalized.

“Who even is he?!”

“A college boy,” You interject, dropping your head onto his shoulder “He was flirting with me when I went to buy cigarettes. Akio.”

Izuku frowns deep and frustrated.

“Sounds like a jackass.”

“He’s a nice kid, Katsuki. I’m still gonna get drinks with him on Saturday, anyway.”

Two voices shout at you at once.

“What?”

“The fuck?”

You break out into a fit of giggles.

“I promised I would if he studied.”

“And you’re gonna go and tell the kid that you’ve got two great boyfriends at home right?”

You grin a little. The possession in Katsuki’s voice is tangible. Izuku is silent but you can practically feel the frustration off him. You hum, pretending to think.

“Is that what you two are?”

“You’re so fucking evil, baby. Evil.”

You shrug.

“Dunno. The role of ‘significant other’ was vacant for a long time. Think I should give it up so easily?”

Katsuki sits up, leaning forward and trapping you between them. Your heart leaps.

“Wanna know what I think?”

You nod, Katsuki’s eyes sharpen.

“I think it’s a bad idea to provoke two heroes who could run laps around you, yeah?”

You look up at him, smiling.

“All that stamina should be put to good use, then. Earn your title, heroes. Sound good?”

“You’re such a tease.” Izuku rasps behind you. You look up to see him, eyes cloudy.

“I’m nice to boys who deserve it.” You say on a whim. Both of them react in a way you can’t predict, shock first then lust right after.

“Need you now.” Izuku says through a breath.

“How do you want me?”

“Want you to sit on my face. Want Kacchan to suck my cock.”

The way he says it makes you reel. You look at Katsuki. He looks.. obedient. It’s the only way you can think to call it. Excited. Your insides twitch.

“Fuck.” You groan “I want that.”

“Kacchan?”

“Shut up and take your dick out, nerd.”

His demeanors cools you off a little, but it’s not enough to stop the anticipation growing. The three of you suddenly move in haste. There’s enough room to move around, bed creaking as everyone adjusts to comfort. You watch Izuku lay down flat on the bed, the whole thing dipping under the weight of his body. You’ve seen him naked before, but it’s always a sight to behold. His whole body is covered in freckles, dense around his shoulders and his thighs.

He’s strong everywhere. As jacked as someone at his height could be, to deal with the burden of his quirk. Even so, the strongest part of him are his legs. Thick, muscular thighs that make your whole body go alight. He’s covered in scars of different sizes, smaller around his waist and middle. Dense on his arms and chest.

There’s hair on his stomach and over his pecs. Above his cock, well-trimmed and neat.

You feel your mouth go dry seeing Izuku’s cock sitting between his legs. You’ve never.. not like this. Your eyes are focus on it, trailing down the line. He isn’t cut, and the tip is darker than the rest. It does a hard curve left.

It’s so thick. Your stomach does a flip ar how unfathomable it is just looking at it.

“Nerd’s fucking hung, isn’t he?”

“You’re so big, Izuku. How do you even…?”

“You scared?”

You nod soft, and the both of them laugh.

“Worry about it later. Want you to sit on my face.” Izuku tells you. His tone is so agreeable, crushing your remaining barriers. Welcoming. You squirm a little thinking about taking it, but resign yourself to his request. You crawl over to him, situating your thighs on either side of his face.

Katsuki observers you for a minute before sitting between Izuku’s legs. You can tell from his confidence that he’s done it a hundred times before. There’s something about the position, the feeling that you’re getting off on each other that has your core feeling tight. Izuku puts his hands on the tops of your thighs.

For the first time, you’re fully at a loss. Katsuki gives you a grin when he realizes what you’re thinking. Your eyes are glued to his form, his physique. The curves of is body when he gets on his knees and arches up. Your heart thuds against your ribs desperately. The blood is rushing into your ears, your hand tingles with nerves.

Izuku must know where you’re focusing too, because his hands gently squeeze the tops of your thighs. He doesn’t take you down, or even move. His breath fans against your sticky cunt.

“Wanna see me suck cock so bad?”

Whatever over takes you is unspeakable. He just makes it sounds so good. The words die off in your mouth. You’re so wet, hyperfocused on the visual. Katsuki wraps his hands around the base of Izuku’s cock, and from under you there’s a moan. The realization hits all at once like a bulldozer leveling a city. You find yourself sinking under the crushing realization of what you’re doing. They’re pleasuring you, and each other. All together.

The thought alone makes your head spin.

“Keep your eyes on me. Don’t close ‘em, since you wanna be a fuckin’ pervert. And nerd,”

“Hn?”

“Don’t let her cum if I tell you she’s closin’ her eyes.”

You can feel his smile under you.

“Good idea, Kacchan.”

You gasp. Mumble something about them being evil, but the words don’t register. Without another minute of hesitation, Izuku all but drags you down to him.

The moment you feel Izuku dart his tongue out, you think the world from under you falling. You want, desperately, to close your eyes. It’s not like you’ve never had someone go down on you.

But Izuku isn’t just eating you out. He isn’t even really doing it for you. There’s a drunkeneness to it that has your thighs squeezing around his head. His hair tickles your skin and you’re so close you’re sure you’re suffocating him. His arms secure themselves around your thighs until you’re trapped in his grip. His tongue is gentle for a briefly, if only to welcome you the sensation.

But right after, with only a second between, he sucks his clit into the heat of his mouth. It’s so shameless it startles you. Your jaw hangs open, and your eyes squeeze shut. Your facing forward. You can feel the ridges of his nose, the point of his chin as the full weight of your body drops onto his face. Your hands fly forward, splaying on his chest to give yourself some semblance of balance.

Izuku moves like he isn’t thinking about anything other than tasting you. The drag of his tongue, muscles moving against your clit makes your toes curl. You bite your lip to cut off the sounds threatening to leave you only to give up minutes later.

“Ngh, ‘zuku—”

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

You struggle but listen. Blearily, you set your focus on Katsuki. The feeling of Izuku and his ruthlessness adds to your delirium. Suspended, you watch Katsuki work Izuku’s cock and feel like you might really die. The visual impact is enough to send you tipping over an edge more quick you ever have in your life and the intoxicated way Izuku’s latched onto your pussy makes you feel like giving in.

Katsuki is watching you back. This stuns you the most of anything. His eyes, red and fixed, are hard and looking at the place where your pussy meets Izuku’s chin. Even as he swallows around his cock, he’s looking at you. Meeting your gaze as he slides is tongue under the swollen head of his cock, flicking the tip. He’s only got one hand, placed carefully on Izuku’s thigh for balance.

But the other is fisted around his cock. His cock. Long, pink, leaking in his palms. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Izuku moans under you, into you. Submerged in the feeling of euphoria, you let out a pathetic cry. Katsuki watches you. His gaze is like splitting atoms, an impossibility happening infront of your eyes. All at once, you take everything in to process. You take Katsuki dipping his head down, his pinks lips stretching around Izuku’s cock. His eyes, stuck on your silhouttete as he takes it down the base without so much as a gag - the drool dripping down onto his chin in the same way you’re doing into Izuku’s face.

You take in the sight of him pulling off, mesmirzed by how much he’s taken. How good he is, how sloppy. Izuku is too, and something occurs in your head that maybe this is another way they mirror each other. The messy way Izuku eats your pussy, with his tongue and the whole of his mouth. With ridiculous fervor, with hazy determination.

You can’t take your eyes off of Katsuki. You’re consumed by the way they both make you feel, and you want to reach across to kiss him. Leaning forward, you rock your hips against Izuku’s tongue.

You want to kiss him. You’re going to kiss him.

“Katsuki,” You breathe out, voice broken. You rut yourself against Izuku’s face again this time, harder, clit rubbing hard against his tongue. He lets out an appreciative little moan, that encourages you chase your own high.

Balancing on Izuku with one hand and leaning forward, you reach your other one around Katsuki’s neck.

You kiss him. Over Izuku’s cock at first then around. The realization of what’s happening makes him moan into your mouth. Finger tangled in the blonde hair, you kiss him with tongue. The gesture is utterly absent minded. It’s greedy. You can’t help but want everything all at once and being apart from him is making you agitated.

You make out around Izuku’s cock after you feel sorry enough. Fucking yourself into his mouth, hips rocking - you take it upon yourself to join Katsuki. Whenever Izuku feels it, his fingers dig into your legs. Little crescent shaped indentations appear from how hard he’s gripping, how much he’s whining against your cunt and sending waves through you.

You’re so turned on, it’s hard to clear your head. Riding Izuku’s face with complete disregard, helping Katsuki suck his cock. The both of you around his shaft, trying to kiss each other while pre-cum stains the exchange. Everything feels like it’s blurry, like a motion shot - a picture taken with a moving subject.

You’ve held out for so long - you don’t have a chance to warn Izuku as an orgasm approaches you a full, frightening speed. Raggedly, you cry out his name. Katsuki groans, stopping to fix his eyes on your face.

Izuku makes a sound of appreciation, helping you fuck onto his tongue in the rhythm you did before. You hold yourself just barely.

All at once, with everything fibre of your being - you find yourself cumming. It doesn’t feel like any orgasm you’ve ever had before, not ever in your life. Like a bow and arrow, your entire body goes taut before the string snaps hard. All the muscles in your body freeze then release, the tension replaced with an unending wave of euphoria.

It feels so fucking good. So good you can’t breathe.

“O—Oh, fuck. Fuuh, fuck.”

You cum and can’t stop. Even as you try to pry yourself off, Izuku holds you down. They both stop in their motions, glued to you. Something warm and desperate starts to rush. A warbled warning comes out of you.

“I-Izuku, it’s—”

All at once, you lean completely bacl another brief wave of release hits. You can feel it. Fuck, you’re—

“Holy shit, sweetheart.”

You reel all the way back as you squirt into Izuku’s mouth - left to listening to him swallow it down. An audible gulp sends your stomach in knots, and you nearly fall. If Izuku wasn’t holding you, you would’ve.

You collapse forward again, this time completely. Wiggling your hips away.

Izuku lets go of you. Gasping for a breath of air immediately as you pull away, you see his cock twitch. Your cheek pressed against his navel, you take a minute to collect yourself.

“Oh my god. You two are going to kill me.”

The room is almost completely silent.

“...Have you ever?”

“I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Muffled underneath you, you hear Izuku.

“Can I please get a warning the next time the two of you decide to go at me at once? I almost came.” Izuku whines. You share a look with Bakugou before breaking out into laughter.

“Be fucking grateful nerd, Fuck that was so hot. You have a mean streak, sweetheart. Pulling my fucking hair.”

You laugh shakily.

“You suck dick like a champ, Katsuki.”

He snorts.

“Shut up.”

For a minute, silence stretches between you. You squirm slightly, before frowning. Appreciative it’s comfortable despite the intense emotions left to linger.

“I was the only one who came.” You say thoughtfully.

“To be fair I almost did. I was flexing my muscles to stop.” Izuku admits. You giggle at the bit of honesty.

“Katsuki… wanna make you cum. Both of you, but it doesn’t feel fair,”

“I had fun, don’t worry. I dunno about the nerd, but I do wanna fuck you.”

Even after doing something so insanely sexual, a flush crawls up your spine.

“I..I want you to fuck me.”

“Wanna fuck you too,” Izuku says underneath you. You wiggle your hips, closing your eyes. You feel a little guilty, even suggesting it.

You flop onto your back, pulling away from Izuku. With your legs kicked up, you cover your face with your hands about what you want to suggest.

“I… uhm. The both of you could.. fuck me at once. If you wanted to.”

You’re almost too afraid of opening your eyes when you hear Katsuki pipe up.

“Holy shit, are you serious?”

You roll over, away from them. You try to anyway.

Before you know what’s happening, Izuku is sitting up. Like you weightless than piece of paper, he flips you over and grabs you until you’re situating his lap. Katsuki sits up, behind you. His chest is pressed against your spine. The two of them look at you hard but you keep covering your face.

Izuku swallows the spit in his mouth, starting at you.

“Do you mean.. like.. the both of us? At once?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“...You ever taken it in the ass before, sweetheart? Shit aint easy,” Katsuki says in something akin to earnesty.

You laugh warmly.

“In college.”

Katsuki snorts.

“Fucking really? With your dweeb ass boyfriend?”

“Kacchan.” Izuku tsks, though you’re sure they share the same sentiment. You nod.

“Anyway, I have. A-and it.. that way we’d all be super close, yknow?”

Katsuki groans.

“Fucking hell,”

“What Kacchan said.” Izuku says, blowing an amused puff of air through this nose.

“It’s not a big deal,” You grumble. Katsuki laughs.

“Hearing our newly acquired significant other say they want us to D.P. them is a big deal, idiot.”

“You’re so vulgar.”

Izuku smiles at you both fondly, absently reaching a hand out. He cups Katsuki’s face in his palm, looking down at you.

“We have to prep you really well. And if it’s too painful at any point, you have to tell me or Kacchan, Okay?”

“Mm…Okay. Love you, Izuku.”

He splutters. Katsuki clicks his teeth behind you.

“Love you too, Katsuki. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” Izuku says, alreacdy on the verge of tears. Katsuki laughs.

“What the nerd said.”

You relish in each others company for a while, soft and leaning into each other. After everyone’s caught their breath, Izuku pats your thigh.

“Do you have lube?” Izuku asks. You laugh, nodding.

“Top drawer of my vanity.”

Izuku pressed a kiss to your temple, getting up.

“Okay. Get comfortable and lay down, Kacchan, lay with her.”

“Not the boss of me, shitnerd.”

Despite himself, Izuku gets up to get your things and Katsuki does as he asks. You get yourself comfortable in the bed and your blonde boyfriend follows suit. He lays down close to you, turned slightly to face you.

He puts a hand out, running his middle finger along your jaw until your face is pointed to him. The proximity is comforting, your eyes following his lips. It’s an awfully tender gesture when he kisses you, softly pressing his lips to yours. You make a little sound of approval into his mouth, making him grin.

“Nervous?”

“A little. Two at once is a lot”

He snorts.

“I bet. Just relax yeah. We’ll start with the hard part. Should make it easier.”

You give him a little smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“You make anal sound very romantic.”

“You fucking saps are rubbing off on me. Do you know how you want us?”

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment. It’s not like you don’t have an answer.

“I want you inside and Izuku in.. y’know.”

He gives you a playful grin.

“You a masochist or something?”

“Shut up,” You say weakly, tucking your chin “Just seems like something he’d be into.”

“Guess you’re not wrong about that,”

Like you’ve conjured him from thin air, Izuku returns to your bed with a familiar bottle of lube and some condoms. His face looks unusually red as you watch him get back on the mattress, settling in between your spread legs.

“Izuku?”

He stops for a minute, startled.

“You… have so many sex toys.” He says. Your eyes widen before you break out into a laugh. You thought you’d be embarrassed if anyone ever saw but for some reason, you mostly find it funny.

“You serious nerd?”

“More than the two of us combined, Kacchan,”

Katsuki turns to look at you, leaning in to give you a giggly kiss.

“Nasty.”

“It slipped my mind, You found what you were looking for though, right?”

He gives you a nod, holding up a bottle of lube - nearly full. You ran out a couple of weeks ago.

Izuku puts a palm underneath your knee, your breath hitching. He looks at you seriously for a minute, thumb rubbing a circle into your skin. He gives you a look.

“Tell me if it hurts. I’m gonna go really slow, ‘kay? And Kacchan, keep her comfy.”

“Got a good idea for that,” Katsuki says. You look at him curiously.

“Keep your eyes on us, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you lift your legs a little higher. You hold yourself up, nails pressed into the back of your thighs. Just like Katsuki insists on, you keep your eyes on Izuku. He looks determined as he flicks the lid open. The lube is shiny as it pours onto his fingers in a thick, clear stream. Warming it up, he looks down. You’re conscious of his gaze, the way you’re so bare and exposed. You can feel how spread out you are because of the position.

Izuku rubs the ring of muscle first, before doing anything else. You squirm at the sensation. It’s not unpleasant, but it isn’t pleasant either. It just feels a little intrusive as he touches it, rubbing along the creased skin.

“Relax, love. Don’t think about it.”

You try to follow his words, so you turn your attention to Katsuki. He gives you a mild look before you feel his hand reach out, groping your tits before sliding his palm down your body, squeezing you gentle.

“When he pushes in, take a deep breath and exhale. And don’t worry about anything else.”

You nod, feeling him inch closer to you. He kisses you this time, soft. His hand keeps going lower and lower until you feel a finger against your puffy clit. It aches from his fingers. You try not to move.

“Good?” Katsuki asks.

“Little more to the left, please.”

He hums at the feedback and does as you ask, rubbing your clit just enough to take your mind off of everything. You find yourself relaxing involuntarily from the pleasure. While your head is busied with it, he kisses you. Engages you in making out, taking time to suck on your tongue in the way he’s learned you like. It’s a messy kiss, too drooly than you think someone like him would be comfortable with.

But the contact feels good, feels nice. Your pussy responds to each of his gestures noticably, a dull throb growing inside from the ache. You want to be fucked, and you’d take it in whatever way you can have.

“Don’t squirm, baby.” Katsuki says, pulling away from you in a pant.

“Hard,” You say simply. He laugh, biting the roundest part of your cheek.

“Sooner you’re prepped, sooner we can fuck you.”

“Gonna push in okay? Take a deep breath.”

You nod. Katsuki keeps you steady, breathing with you as you feel Izuku push in his middle finger in. It’s a just barely there sensation. You’re expecting some pain, but there’s nothing more than a dull sense of discomfort. You let out a long, deep breath, until you feel him reach the first knuckle. The prep is relatively uninteresting, but you can feel a stretch. A mild, sensitive feeling of invasion.

But it feels.. dirty? Forbidden, somehow and that’s making your breath hitch. The both of them are staring so hard at you. Katsuki keeps rubbing your pussy to keep you at bay. You hiccup.

“Okay?”

You nod.

“Doesn’t hurt. Just feels… funny.” You say. Izuku breathes a sigh before he very slow pulls the finger out of you. Your heart pulses, a sense of relief when he takes it out that leaves you curious. Your eyes widen. Katsuki takes notice of your expression.

“Feels nice?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Izuku goes a little faster this time, a little harder. When the motion is fluid, he’s careful to add another finger. You feel lube drip down onto your ass, the thick and sticky sensation. Katsuki leans into you.

“Deep breath,”

You listen, breathing deep as another finger joins him. This time the stretch is more noticeable. Izuku leans forward, kissing your knee where you’re holding it up.

“Pretty little hole,” Izuku muses. Your eyes go wide from embarrassment when you hear Katsuki snicker at you. Izuku doesn’t stop his mumbling, fixed on how your fingers suck him in “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

Lost in a haze, his eyes flick up to you with a smile. It’s so disarming it startles you. You lean back.

“Okay, baby?”

“You’re s-so dangerous.”

He frowns.

“Why do you say that?”

Katsuki scoffs above you, making you feel marginally better. You take another breath as he repeats the motions of before, slowly fucking into you. You feel your ass give as you get comfortable, your body no longer instinctively resisting the sensation. You feel yourself stretch and stretch and stretch, but it doesn’t feel the same as being torn open. There’s something strangely familiar about the gesture.

Katsuki touches you through it. Teases your clit with his fingers and brings you to the edge, always stopping before you can cum. Despite your protest, you get the feeling it’s to help you cum while you’re getting fucked but not before then. You let out soft little moans of pleasure and the way Izuku is starting to fuck you open on his fingers is finally starting to feel like something besides funny.

You look down at Izuku, who gives you a half smile. Something deep in you aches, it’s a sensation you haven’t felt in a long time. Bone-deep desire to be fucked and filled and close together leaves you oddly emotionaly.

“You, okay? Think you’re ready?”

You feel yourself squirm against Katsuki’s hand, who’s busied himself by cupping your pussy with his palm.

“I’m ready. Want you in my ass, and Katsuki in me,” You tell him. His eyes widen before he lets an involuntary groan. Sometimes his predictability is charming in it’s own way.

“Yeah.. yeah. Then let Kacchan get underneath you, and I’ll get on top. Sound okay?”

“Mm,”

It takes a minute to switch positions again but eventually you end up where you want. Katsuki lays comfortably on the mattress, head propped up on some pillows. Rubbing his cock with one hand lazily, he gives you smirk.

“Hop on?”

“Oh fuck you,”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you crawl ontop of him, throwing your legs on either side of his hips. You hover over his cock, getting comfortable as you feel his hands grab your ass and squeeze, pulling them apart without shame. He’s got the same look as always, a cocky looking smile as he pivots his hips and rubs the head of his cock against your folds. Shuddering, you wrap your hand around the base.

“Sure you don’t need prep?”

You nod your head, biting your lip as you guide the head of his cock down a little lower. You feel Izuku behind you.

“No condom?”

“Wanna feel it.” You reply. Katsuki groans under as you guide the head to your entrance. You take a deep breath as you start to sink yourself on it. Going as slow as possible to make sure it doesn’t hurt, Katsuki does a hard hiss underneath you. His head tilts back, mouth open in loud moan. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as you finally push yourself to the last inch.

When you bottom out you sigh, the familiar and pleasant sensation starting to ensnare you. Eyes heavy, you look at Katsuki who looks like he’s having a hard time keeping his head above water. Your hands go on his chest.

“Katsuki?”

“I’ve never—holy shit—”

“You’ve never done it like this?”

“Bakugou lost his virginity to Kirishima and I lost mine to Ochako. So he’s never…”

Unable to help your shock, an idea pops into your head as you lean forward. He feels so fucking good. He’s got a curve just upright that sits nicely inside of you, keeps you full and touches you in all the right ways. Beneath you he’s trembling, unable to shake the feeling.

“Katsuki,” You purr, breathy as you lift your hips up. “Does that feel good?”

“H-Holy fuck. Fuck, baby—you’re so wet. Feels like you’re gonna melt me,”

With a little effort, you do an intentional squeeze around him. His eyes shoot open, gasping for air.

“D-Don’t—You little shit. Squeezing me like that, stupid brat.”

He holds your hips down where you stop, giving you a look that’s only half angry.

“I’m just making you feel good.” You maintain. His hand comes down on your ass hard, making you laugh.

“You can make me feel good without trying to milk me, fucksake. Slow down and let Izuku in,”

You give him smile, leaning forward. Katsuki gets what you’re trying to do almost immediately. His hands squeeze your ass again, this time spreading you apart intentionally. You can only see from the corner of your eye because you’re squished into Katsuki’s chest - bare chest on his. But Izuku shoots off a deep, guttural groan as Katsuki offers him a smile. You feel his chin atop your head.

“Don’t make her wait long, dweeb.”

It happens just like that. Izuku approaches you, cock in hand and situates behind the two of you. You take in a deep breath when you feel the tip protruding against your hole. Everything… halts. Like the sound of something, a faint quiet before everything hits the ground running. You’re already stretched, already full with cock. Your head can’t wrap around taking anymore but still, Izuku persists. He grabs you with great strain, and pushes his cock into the tight ring with a choked cry.

All three of you react to the feeling. He’s not even all the way in, but the deep sensation and pressure has you reeling already. Katsuki lets out a yelp. The both of them are grabbing you, anchoring themselves as Izuku pushes himself just barely inside. A tight fit wouldn’t even begging to describe it. You feel plugged up completely, from the inside.

“C-Can I…? Can I please—”

“Move, Izuku, move.”

And he does. He does it slowly, at an awfully slow pace like he’s trying to keep you all the way together. Brain full of static, you’re absolutely fucking astounded. He pushes in a little more, and the heavy weight of his cock feels like it’s sinking. You can feel his cock against Katsuki’s inside of you. They both feel it at the same time because underneath Katsuki is twitching. Letting out pants, face strained and absolutely fucking out of it.

The room is filled with a wet, sticky sort of noise as Izuku moves himself. He checks in, pushes when you confirm, and does it for what feels like ages until you feel his navel against you. He’s inside of you, completely inside of you. You feel… complete. It’s so fucking unbelievable. It feels like being torn apart, ripped in half. A sensation you couldn’t imagine existing.

All while feeling incredible. It’s deep enough to push the air out of you, out of your lungs in a ragged breath. Your body goes limp, sweaty between the two of them.

“Baby, baby, you feel incredible and K-Kacchan, can f-feel Kacchan in, Kacchan’s cock you, feels so good, love you both, love you so much—wanna move, can I? Can I move baby, need to—”

“Fuck me,”

Like they do everything, they work together in sync so seamlessly in breaks you. Katsuki gives Izuku room to thrust first, letting him control the pace to make sure you’re not hurt. The feeling of his big cock, fucking your ass when you’re already so hopelessly full, is making your body feel completely limp. Every single nerve of pleasure that could be touched or toyed with is being rubbed against. Pleasured from the inside out, your mouth is fallen open in a silent scream.

You’re all so close. You’re face is tucked into Katsuki’s neck where you can hear his every breath or moan or cry. Izuku is draped over you, his chin over your shoulder - mouth against your neck and licking the sweat off of your skin. One of your hands is on Katsuki’s chest, and the other is reaching around for Izuku - for something of him to hold onto. Your vision is blurry, and the world outside is finally starting to sink into the night.

Room painted in an vibrant orange daylight, you’re soaked in pleasure that feels hedonistic. The violent waves of pleasure leave you feeling like kindling - the thing that makes fires burn. The first time you cum from this, you don’t register it completely. The bliss of the experience isn’t concentrated. You feel the dull throb of desire - starting from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.

You cum, the first time, without any intention. The forces around make it happen and the way you squeeze makes both men have to stop completely as you ride out your high - the feeling of it overshadows your first orgasm.

It’s an out-of-body experience. You start to see your vision go white, and when you’re finished - you feel the two of them start to fuck you again. This time it’s slower, more deliberate as they try to drag the feeling out.

Izuku wraps a hand around your waist, sticks between your body and Katsukis. You feel his fingers on your clit, wincing. His voice is soothing, gentle.

“I love you. Want us all to cum together. I love you so much. We’re so close. One more, okay? Just one more.”

“I love you, sweetheart. Love you too, nerd. Give us one more. Together?”

You don’t know what it is. It’s a weird fucking time to get all emotional, all worked up into nothing. Still, you find yourself nodding. It’s a strange time to think you’re so in love but you’re so worked up, so blissful like you’re being cradled by the golden threads of the sun. Warm all over your body in as much measure as you’re burning with lust. The feeling of their bodies, of Katuski placing kisses on your skin and Izuku pressing himself to your cheek.

Izuku panics when you cry, but you reassure him that you’re fine. And you are fine, completely and utterly fine. There’s just something terrifying about being loved at such a magnitude - being able to do something like this at all without any pretense or fear. The mutual sensation of trust and all the pleasure.

Everything that happened, the life you’ve lived so far that once felt blurry comes to you with clarity. Like clear water, your love appears in front of your eyes, and it appears clear. It was never worthless. Never meaningless. Always meant to be, and always purposeful. The two of them have loved you with so much intention since the beginning, and it’s taken this long to take it in. To realize.

With a shaky, soft voice - you warn them.

“G-gonna cum.”

You let go this time, pure relief running through. A few more short thrusts have them both following suit. Feeling them twitch inside of you at the same time makes your heart feel strangely full. It’s all a little stupid, but when the adrenaline starts to settle - you can’t help but smile.

The room is completely dark as the three of you lay together in the silent aftermath. Your eyes feel heavy as you fall forward.

You don’t wake up till the next morning.

It’s a little disorienting, truthfully. The sun isn’t out, instead the day is wrapped by comfortable clouds and cool rainfall. You don’t even know the time as you finally get yourself up - though you’re both naked and clean.

Sitting up in your bed, memories of last night return to you swiftly. Your lower back throbs painfully. You laugh, putting your hand on it while you rub your eyes. Looking around your room, you find a stack of clothes with a note on top.

“In the kitchen. Get dressed and come join us.” Written in Katsuki’s handwriting.

Standing up to stretch, you rub the remaining tired out of your vision and throw out what clothes have been set for you before unlocking your door and stepping out into the living room.

You’re surprised to find the both of them still there. Izuku is pouring cat food for Ganache, while Katsuki is at the stove making something that smells nice though you aren’t sure what it is.

You hear Izuku first. He turns around to find you dressed, his face breaking out into a smile. Without a warning, he picks you up and spins you around in his arms. You let out a squeal.

“Ah, Izuku! Wait, I haven’t brushed my teeth,”

“Don’t care. Kiss! Kiss!”

You can’t help but relent to him as he carries you effortlessly in his arms. He places kisses all over your neck and face before kissing you on the lips. You get comfortable against him, surprised by how sturdy it is. He rubs his face against you as he carries you on one arm, dragging you to Katsuki who looks at you a little unamused.

You lean over to kiss him on the lips which he returns with soft smile.

“You fucking idiots better sit down to eat. Swear to god.”

Instead of answering, you kiss him one more time. He rolls his eyes but returns the gesture before busying himself back with the food.

Izuku eases you on the counter instead of either you going back to sit. He stands between your legs.

“Thanks for making breakfast. What time is it?”

“11:32,”

Your eyes widen immediately, as you scramble up.

“Shit, I have work today.”

Izuku stops you, looking sheepish.

“No you don’t.” He says, looking away.

“Huh?”

Katsuki grins, flipping over the rolled egg with a self-satisifed laugh,

“Sometimes,” He starts, pouring more egg into the pan “Being a Pro-Hero has it’s perks.”

You immediately start into a fit of laughter, leaning forward to nuzzle into Izuku’s chest.

“And you two?”

Izuku’s voice reverberates.

“Called in some favors. Thought it’d be good to spend a day together.”

You feel like you’re in one long dream. After everything. There’s still so much to talk about but you let yourself ride the high. Contented, you sigh, wrapping your arms around Izuku and closing your eyes.

“I think so too.”

#bkdk x reader #bakugou x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou smut #deku smut #writing tag

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candy-ishu · 1 year

Text

apple pie (part 2)

pairings: yandere!austin!elvis presley x female reader

summary: it’s been a year since elvis took you from everything you’ve ever known. he keeps you trapped in graceland as his perfect little housewife, knocked up and docile, just the way he likes. as your baby’s arrival date comes closer you become determined to get your child away from your monster. whatever the cost may be.

warnings: rated M for yandere themes, dark themes, obsessive behavior, abuse of power, age gap, elvis is in his early-mid 30s, reader is in early 20s, elvis is mysognist in this, mild smut, oral male receiving, spanking, daddy kink, reader calls elvis daddy when he’s angry, belting, pregnancy, escape attempts, murder, violence, unhealthy relationship, branding, toxicity, abusive relationship, graphic content.

note: there is smut in this one and mentions of vomiting in the past! remember i do not condone any of this behavior in real life and all of this is just fiction! how you all enjoy and let me know if you want part 3.

word count: 2,776

part one

two weeks.

that’s how long it had been since you sold your first slice of pie, two weeks.

you ended up making pie almost every day. if there were leftovers, you’d store them in the oven and then heat them up the next day to sell.

depending on the day you made as much as 75 cents an afternoon. you only had 2 dollars left to make before you could finally get that train ticket and run.

and it had to happen fast. your stomach felt heavier and heavier as every day went by. your sleep was interrupted every night by feather light kicks in your tummy, always reminding you of the life that was growing in there.

elvis was particularly excited for the baby to arrive. he had helped set up a nursery, built a crib, he had even picked a customized onesie with his initials imprinted on them. he was excited to be a father…or maybe he was excited to have something to tie you down to him.

however you wouldn’t let him do that. you and your baby were going to get out of this hellhole no matter what.

today you made 50 cents. it was a good profit considering some days you didn’t make any money. after serving the children their pie you took the money and buried it underneath the soil of a houseplant in the kitchen. that’s where you kept all of it. you knew it was somewhere that elvis would have absolutely no reason to check.

after washing your hands to rid them of the soil, you decided to pretty yourself for when elvis got home. he liked it when you put effort into your looks for him considering he was always well dressed wherever he went, and the happier you made him the less suspicious he would be on you. so you untied your hair and styled it and put on a dress that you had not spent the whole day working in.

you weren’t able to do much more so you patiently waited in the living room preparing to greet him when he got home. it wasn’t long until the door finally opened.

“i’m home darlin!”

you got up from your spot and hurried to the door, it was never a good idea to make elvis presley wait.

“welcome home,” you say softly with a kind smile. the expression you were trained to have when he came home. one of happiness and relief. you swiftly take his blazer off of him. hanging it up in the closet near the door before coming back to give him a kiss.

“i missed you…”

he gives you a warm smile and kisses you back. a sweet deep kiss that makes the hairs on his side burns tickle against your face.

“i’ve missed you too, baby girl.”

once you two have released, he sighs and cracks his neck before walking over to the sofa in the living room.

“doll c’mere,” he says to you, motioning over to come with his finger.

of course, you comply. walking over to him and sitting on his lap.

his hand immediately goes to your swollen belly. rubbing smooth circles on it with his thumb.

“the little one will be here any day now i reckon…” he muses with a fond smile. “i bet it’ll just be as pretty as it’s mama…well, i don’t think anything could be as pretty as it’s mama…” he says with a dangerous lust beginning to fill his voice.

a large hand begins to move up your body to a swollen breast where it squeezes the doughy flesh. your face goes red and panic begins to rise in your chest. “you’ve grown so much here…s’pose it’s natural for a mother though…i bet they’re all nice and full with milk hm?”

“e-elvis…”

the king smacks your thigh, a warning. “settle.” he says firmly. and by instinct, you do.

his hand makes its way to your mouth. his thumb begins to toy with your lower lip and soon, it begins to put pressure on it, a request to go into your mouth. you hesitantly open and his thump begins to run over your tongue.

“y’know baby, i was thinkin’ at work today. we haven’t had sex in so long, seeing as we’re expectin soon n’ all. i know the doc said that we should avoid doing anything down there, but he never said anything about your mouth.”

you look back at him. your face begging him not to. he grabs your face with his thumb and forefinger and growls.

“now baby…that ain’t no way to treat your husband is it? i’ve been so patient. i’ve given you your space, i’ve gotten you your medication, hell i’ve held off from enjoying that sweet lil pussy of yours which has been no easy task. i think a little blowjob is the least you could do for me…don’t you?”

you shake a bit and look down but eventually you nod.

“yes elvis…”

he smiles in satisfaction. “that’s my good girl…now, on your knees for daddy.”

you obey. carefully getting on your knees. your pregnant belly resting on them when you do. you look up at him and a calloused hand caresses your cheek,

“go on baby doll, you know what to do.”

you shiver but begin to delicately pull him out. gently fingers pulling down his zipper and popping the buttons on his pants. careful hands pulled out his member, handling it like it was a fine piece of gold. from there your tongue was in charge.

elvis simply was enjoying your show. you were just too cute when you were being so careful, like a little bird scared to fly in fear of falling.

you began by carefully licking his tip. the familiar taste of precum hits your tongue. small kitten licks are left around the head just the way he liked it. after a small while of this the man was beginning to grow impatient. he grabs your head and pushes you onto his tip.

you’re immediately reminded of how big the man is. your jaw already aches and it’s only been a few seconds. he was quite girthy and decently large. he never failed to make you feel full.

as the king pushes you further and further on his member you feel a familiar vein on the underside of his cock slide along your tongue. you massage it with your tongue and the man above you groans in satisfaction.

“fuck baby! that’s it…just like that pretty girl.” he groans, as the hand that’s in your hair pushes you further down on him.

you hate this. you want it to be over. you feel salty drops of precum drip down your throat and shudder in disgust.

“just get it over with,” you think. “just get it over with and then you can be alone.”

he forces his cock into your throat. he’s done this so many times, however you’ll never get used to it. the only thing you could absolutely not allow yourself to do was vomit. once you had vomited on him and he gave you one of the worst spankings you’ve had since you got here. your rear was red and blistered for almost a week and sitting became a awful task.

your throat convulses around his shaft and you focus on keeping any bile that may threaten to come up, down. once your nose is nestled into his pubes and you can feel his balls against your chin, he begins moving your head up and down his shaft.

hot tears stream from your eyes but you take it. there was simply no other option after all. not as long as you were elvis’ wife…

“well ain’t this a pretty picture?” he says with a smile, thumb brushing away tears. “you look so beautiful like this satnin…all knocked up and docile…i knew that this was the life that was meant for you, i knew from the very moment i saw you, i needed you to share my last name. i’m glad your finally acceptin’ it yourself.” his electric blue eyes look into yours so lovingly, like they didn’t even see what was going on.

you sniffle and continue sucking, hoping to finish this quickly.

“atta girl…just-hng! j-just like that baby!” elvis groans, thrusting deeper and deeper into your mouth every stroke.

you don’t know how much longer it goes on for but it feels like an eternity. your jaw is sore and your throat feels raw. hot tears constantly spill for your eyes until eventually elvis cums. he pulls out just enough that all his cum lands on your tongue. this made what you were meant to do next even more obvious.

elvis grunts as he shoots his load, painting before pulling out of your mouth. “you know what to do darlin’...” he said through staggered breaths.

you look away from him and swallow his cum. it’s hot and feels slimy going down. once it’s all gone, you open your mouth to show him what a good girl you had been.

he looks at you with a pleased smile on his face. a look one would give to a beloved pet.

a large thumb brushes the side of your mouth and scoops up a little bit of semen that had leaked out. he brushes it on your tongue and watches as you swallow the very last drop of his load.

“good girl baby…such a good little girl for me…” he praises as he puts himself back into his pants and stands up.

he holds out a hand to help you up, which you gladly take as your heavy stomach makes things like standing up exponentially harder.

“what you are gonna make for dinner tonight darlin?”

“chicken and dumplings…” you say looking at your feet.

elvis smiles and kisses your head, “sounds good pretty doll. i’ll leave you to it.” he says with a smile. he yells, “call me when dinner’s done!” as he ascends up the stairs and disappears into his home office to get on a conference call with the colonel and other people that worked for him.

you sigh as you watch him leave.

you had to get out.

you had to get out fast.

–

it has been five days since the blowjob.

you count the coins in your palm…28 quarters.

seven dollars…

you had done it.

you feel so happy you could almost cry. you counted the coins over and over again. 28 quarters very single time you counted.

you tearily smile down at your stomach and rub your belly.

“mama’s done it…mama’s gonna get us out of here.” you whispered through misty eyes.

you’d buy the ticket tonight, pack a bag while elvis was at work, a leave before elvis could ever get home. you’d figure something out when you got to mississippi. all that mattered was that you weren’t in this mansion anymore.

you quickly shuffled the quarters back into the pot and cover them in dirt.

you didn’t want any complications tonight. you were going to be perfect. elvis would come home tonight to a happy loving wife, a warm meal on the table and a freshly baked apple pie.

his favorite.

you giggle to yourself as you begin preparing for when he finally gets home.

at 6:15 the door of your home opened and elvis walked in. he was immediately greeted by two things, a smiling wife and the smell of apple pie right out of the oven.

the man was clearly shocked. you never smiled when he got home. maybe you had finally decided to accept that you weren’t leaving and didn’t want the baby to grow with a mommy and daddy that don’t get along.

“why darlin, i haven’t seen you smile that wide since the day we first met.” the man returned your smile when you swoop in to kiss him he happily kisses back.

“welcome home elvis.” you say cheerily. you take his blazer just like you do everyday and hang it in the closet. “i suppose i’m just in a good mood today.”

elvis chuckles, “i oughta find a way to put my baby in a good mood everyday.”

you smile and take his hand and walk him to the table. you had made his favorite, and of course you had made him an apple pie.

elvis’ eyes widen and he smiles, “dear god what is goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours huh baby? i’m bein’ treated like it’s my birthday.”

the two of you continue to have a lovely night. you serve his every need attentively and he treats you with kindness in return. you have to hold your tongue when he makes comments about what a good little wife you are, but you remind yourself that it would be all worth it when you were on the train tomorrow on your way to mississippi.

that night you two go to bed. elvis falls asleep slowly. you lie completely awaken bed as you wait for the mad to begin snoring. when you finally hear the snores begin, you ever so delicately lift the covers off yourself. you move the pillows to create an illusion that your body was still there and you carefully tiptoe down the stairs.

right before you go to open the door you hear a groggy grumble.

“where’ya goin’ baby?” elvis asks, clearly half asleep.

your heart ponds and your throat goes dry. you manage to squeak out, “just to the bathroom honey…i’ll be right back.”

elvis grumbles and puts his head into his pillow, “hurry back satnin…” you hear him say and soft snores tell you that he’s gone back to sleep.

you genuinely can’t believe that works. relief floods through your body and you slowly and carefully make your way downstairs.

you carefully take all twenty eight of your quarters out of the flower pot and put them in your pocket. not daring to drop a single coin.

you walk into the kitchen and move the pie from the window you had convinced elvis to leave open. “so the pie stays good…”

you knew full well that the pie would be fine sitting on the counter, however you convinced the man that you had read in the women’s newsletter that leaving a pie in an open window kept it fresh longer.

the truth was you simply needed a way out that night.

you take a deep breath and move the pie from the windowsil and carefully climb out. bare feet hit the dirt ground. you wiggled your toes at the foreign sensation.

you hadn’t been outside in so long…

you reminded yourself of the task at hand and began walking to the train station. it was hard to miss, smack in the middle of memphis. you ran up to the 24 hour ticket booth and knocked on the window.

a clearly tired man with a large mustache appeared in your right after just a couple of seconds. “hello miss, how can i help you…” the man said groggily.

“a ticket for 1 to mississippi please.”

the man sighed, clearly confused to why someone was awake at this hour and forcing him to do his job.

“that’ll be sevn’ dollars please.”

you took the coins out from your pocket and placed them on the counter.

the man slid your coins over to him. he began counting.

“twenty six…twenty seven…twenty eight. yup all there.” he sighs and puts your coins into his cash register. you hear the ripping of paper and the man hands you a white slip with writing on it.

“yer’ train rides at 1 o’clock tomorrow. don’t be late.”

you look at the ticket and then back at him. you feel so happy you feel like you could be floating.

“y-yes! thank you sir! have a good night!”

you run home with your prize. tears of joy stream down your face. you were finally free!

you got to the house and began climbing back into the window quietly. what should you pack? a blanket for the baby surely…maybe a gun for self defense? some food to hold you over until you found work? and what about clothes for the-

your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar whistle tune and you freeze.

the glow of a freshly lit cigar fills the room. once the tune is done, the man who lit it takes a drag from it.

your heart falls into your chest.

“openin’ the window keeps the pie fresh huh…” elvis asks from across the kitchen, taking a long puff from his cigar then blowing it out through his lips.

“baby you must think i’m a damn fool.”

to be continued..

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miniscule-meow · 11 days

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Borrowed Time (2)

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2k First Part | Next Part (soon)

---

Standing at the base of the cabinets in his kitchen, he stares straight up towards their destination. They’re about to climb to the top. It seems impossible, but the borrower next to him doesn’t seem phased at all. Dante has never seen his apartment from this angle before. He’s, what, four inches tall right now? He doesn’t happen to spend a lot of time lying down on the floor. Seeing the monolithic cabinetry rise high above him only punctuates how small he is. This is so strange, and yet Vivienne seems so comfortable. This is just another Tuesday for her.

He watches her sling her grappling hook. It arcs an impressive distance, connecting with the handle of the cabinet. She gives the rope a good tug, and nods, satisfied that it’ll hold before she just starts climbing. She makes confident, steady movements. It makes sense, this has been her whole life, it’s all she’s ever known. She’s been living here the whole time without him knowing. He can barely wrap his mind around that. First of all, how many embarrassing things has she seen him do? Maybe not many, considering she didn’t recognize him. So, he supposes that she’s not really spending her free time staring at him, which is good. But still. Has she listened to him sing in the shower? Has she watched him burn eggs on the stove? Secondly, she’s tiny! He’s trying to imagine what it would be like if he was his normal size. He’d be able to hold her in one hand, easily. That thought is just as dizzying as looking up at his weirdly gigantic countertops.

“Um, is this safe?” He calls up to her, nervously.

“Not even a little bit,” Vivienne grunts, without pausing her ascent. He stares at her as she shimmies up the rope and hoists herself onto the handle. “You coming?” she asks, a challenge sparking in her tone. Part of him thinks that perhaps she picked the most difficult climb just to make fun of him. Or, to assess him, to see how much he’ll hold her back.

Dante grabs the rope, his competitive nature taking root in him. Though, realistically, he cannot imagine himself being any good at this. He’s never had to climb a rope before. In movies he would see people climbing rope in gym class, his school wasn’t like that. Sure, he works out. Or at least, he intends to. He got a gym membership as a new year’s resolution, but he’s only actually gone a hand full of times since then. This seems like it’s the kind of thing where you would have to train every day to be as proficient as Vivienne. Does she do something like this every day? Is he going to have to do something like this every day? How is he going to survive this.

“I think you’re stalling. Are you scared?” She taunts from high above him.

“Would you laugh at me if I said yes?” he asks shakily before grabbing the rope and hoisting himself up. She snickers in response and watches him climb. It is slow going, but he does it. When he finally reaches the top he clings to the cabinet handle, not daring to look down.

“Wow. That was…” she starts, he can tell from her tone that she’s not complimenting him.

“Pathetic, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her, wheezing. “There has to be a better way to do this.”

“We’re almost there,” she says, notably not saying anything to deny that she thinks he’s pathetic.

They make their way up the rest of the cabinet and onto the smooth countertop. His whole body is quivering by the time he reaches the top. He flops down on the cool granite, gasping for air.

It’s such an odd thing to climb your own furniture. He sees it and interacts with it every day. Even just this morning, he made himself breakfast. He opened the drawers; he used the kitchen. It should be familiar to him, but the change in perspective has skewed everything. He might as well have been transported to an alien dimension.

Vivienne nudges his side with her foot, it doesn’t seem like she’s even winded from the climb.

“My lungs are on fire,” he coughs.

“Come on. We don’t have time for that, we have to keep moving,” she says, stretching out her shoulders and packing up her rope.

He sits up, taking in the apartment from this viewpoint. He’s hit with another wave of that funny feeling, like everything should feel familiar, but it doesn’t. This feeling sinks in the pit of his stomach like a stone in a lake. Is this his life now? Is he just going to have to accept that this is his forever? He suddenly feels very sweaty. This didn’t feel real until just now. He can’t do this.

“I- I can’t- I … just everything,” he stammers.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” Vivienne kneels beside him, cupping his face in her hands, causing his eyes to meet her own. This takes his focus away from the immense dread that’s rooting in his stomach. His initial reaction is to think that this is incredibly sweet, until she gives his cheek a few sharp pats to snap him out of his daze. “Listen, Dante. I need you to do something for me, alright? I need you to stop acting like you’re seeing everything for the first time. Okay?”

“But—” He’s about to tell her that he is seeing this for the first time, but she shakes her head.

“No, look, I know this is scary, but this is not the time to freak out on me. We are in the middle of this, you can panic when we’re done. We need to do our job and get out. If you freak out now, it’s going to make everything worse, and it could get both of us killed. Alright? You understand?” she asks slowly.

He nods, swallowing dryly. All he has to do is not freak out.

“I’ve got your back. We’re in this together, and we’re going to be fine. Let’s go,” with that, she stands. He watches her adjust the pack on her shoulders as she walks forward. He quickly gets to his feet, scrambling to follow her.

From the countertop, they come to a box of cereal. He had pulled it out of the cabinet for breakfast earlier today when everything was normal. Now of course, it looks much different to him. He helps Vi pick up some fallen pieces of cereal. They move around the countertop collecting scraps and crumbs. Part of him realizes how much better he needs to be doing at cleaning up after himself. But then, if he did that then collecting food would be even more challenging than it already is. At least this part of the job is simple compared to scaling the cabinets to get here.

With their packs full of scraps, and their water containers refilled from the dripping faucet, they’re ready to climb back down. The descent proves to be just as scary as the ascent was, and he was no more proficient at it than he was during the first go around. All he knows is that he’s going to be unbelievably sore when tomorrow finally comes.

They make their way back to Vi’s room, and he helps her make a meal of sorts from the scraps they just collected. It’s surprisingly… edible, considering they were working with bits of cereal, grains of rice, stale breadcrumbs and whatever other bits and bobs already in her little pantry.

He’s cleaning the dishes when the string lights overhead flicker, then go out. Vivienne sighs heavily, stomping across her room. Dante blinks, his eyes struggling to adjust to the newfound darkness. She gives the battery pack by the door a few sharp wacks before sighing again. “This is going to be so annoying to fix.”

“Uh, what should I do?” He asks, feeling his way across the old wooden ruler that she turned into her countertop.

“Light a match I guess.” She mutters. “This will be fine. We were pretty much done for the night anyway. You looked about ready to fall asleep in your dinner, so we can just deal with it tomorrow,” She talks as he fumbles his way around the miniature kitchen. They had used a tea candle to cook their dinner, and there was a collection of matches stored in the cabinet nearby. He grabs one and strikes it. He holds it like a torch in his hands. It won’t stay lit for long, but for now it illuminates the space in a warm orange glow.

“What do you need to fix it?” He asks curiously.

“I need three whole aaahs,” she answers.

“What?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“Oh, right. You don’t know anything. Um. This one is kind of advanced. Basically, aaahs are tubes that make the lights turn on. Without them, it’s just dark like this. Which is fine, it’s just annoying. Good thing we got all of our crafting out of the way while they still worked though. But anyway, they’re pretty hard to come by. And it’s one of those things that the beans sometimes keep track of. And I need three of them.”

“Aaah tubes,” he says quietly to himself, thinking for a moment before busting up into a fit of laughter. “Oh my gosh do you mean a battery? Like a triple A battery?”

“Oh. Alright you just call it something else. That’s so weird though? Three A’s would be pronounced, ‘aaah’”

“This is- oh gosh,” he laughs

“Cultural differences, I get it. Your community was weird,” She says with a shrug, shuffling back towards the table.

“Vi, what about double A batteries? Those are different, but would you pronounce it the same, or what?”

“Well, that…” she hesitates. “I’m not going to take criticism from the guy who didn’t even know what a borrower was, despite literally being one, alright?”

“Whatever.” He laughs, meeting her at the table. “Hey, don’t worry. This won’t even be all that hard. I have some batteries in my—” he stops himself.

“You have a stash nearby?” she asks, her voice taking on an edge that he knows is from her being territorial. Her brow furrows, her sharp eyes studying him.

“No, no, no. I just meant that, um, I know where some are. They’re in the apartment in the… um… other bean’s desk drawer. And he shouldn’t be a problem because he’s… out for a while.”

“And you know this because?” She leads.

“Well, I overheard a conversation or something. But really, the coast should be clear for it.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “We can try it out because I don’t have any other leads for these ‘betteries’ as you called them.”

“batteries,” he corrects her, but she either doesn’t hear him, or she just outright ignores him.

Using only one other match for light, they’re able to get ready for bed. She gives him a lumpy approximation of a pillow, and several scraps of fabric, sewn together into a blanket. The space is small, but he’s able to sleep on the floor next to her bed. Though, it honestly doesn’t look like her bed is really any better than the floor. The base of it appears to be layers and layers of fabric all piled together. The light of the match fizzles out, and he’s left staring up into the darkness. His body feels so exhausted, but his mind is running in circles trying to process and unpack everything.

Now that there are no real distractions to keep him occupied, he has to face what he’s been avoiding all day. His mind is still snagged on the fact that there has been a tiny woman living in the walls of his apartment. But aside from that, there’s the matter of, how is any of this possible? And what can he do about this? He has no real plan aside from just following Vivienne around as long as she will let him. Should he try to contact his roommate? Would he take him to a doctor? Would a doctor even know what to do with him? Eventually his uneasy thoughts carry him into uneasy dreams. Hopefully, he’ll be able to get some answers tomorrow.

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t community #g/t story #size shifters #borrowed time #my writing

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hwaseonghwasworld · 6 months

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Brothers Best Friend Chapter 5: Sisters “Boyfriend”

Summary: Yunho doesn't want his baby sister (Y/n) dating any of his friends especially Mingi since they are like brothers to him and it's an issue when all Y/n's friends are dating Yunho's friends but he wouldn't let Y/n talk to any guys since he's so overprotective, it's such a shame that she's been with Mingi for almost 2 years and no one knows. What will happen if Yunho finds out?

Song Mingi x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut, fights

Word count: 550

Genre: series, angst, comedy, fluff, hidden relationship, High school au

Updates: probably Friday at 10pm BST

The next day passed and my brother is still being an asshole, I sat in my seat with my friends and told them about our visitor “wait so your dads getting married again” “yup” Mingi heard the convo and his head shot up confused l looked over at him realising I never told him since after this whole mess I fell asleep and didn’t tell him what happened. Since his friends don’t know about us I couldn’t tell him what’s going on in this room.

I walked out of class and texted Mingi where I was and he went to me and closed the class room door behind him, “hey what’s going on” I looked up at him and he hugged me as I explained the story. “My dad is getting remarried” “they’ve been together for 2 years” Mingi looked at me in shock, he could see the pain in my eyes so he wrapped his arms around me and pissed my forehead.

Yunho stormed in as soon as we broke the hug and I rolled my eyes knowing he’s gonna say some dumb shit. “WHAT THE FUCK” I interrupt his anger making him get angrier “relax” “THE FUCK YOU MEAN” “ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING DATING” I had to come up with something on the top of my head, “no dumbass, I have a boyfriend” Mingi looked at me confused “you do?” I look at Mingi telling him to shut up “then who is it?”

At that moment my best friend Shotaro walk in, “is everything good?” I ran up to him and stood next to him “he’s my boyfriend” Shotaro looked at me confused and I slowly look back at him, trying to get him to understand “oh yes we are” Mingi looked at us a little jealous which confused me since he knew it was a lie “oh really? Then kiss” I looked a Shotaro and back at my brother “we’ve only been dating for a week so no” “whatever” Yunho walked out and me and Mingi sighed in relief knowing we just dodged a bullet “so are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” “Yunho doesn’t know me and Mingi are together and I don’t want him to know cause he’ll freak out” Shotaro looked at us confused as mingi wrapped his arm around my shoulder, I had to explain to him about how long we’ve been together for.

Shotaro agreed to act like my boyfriend in front of my brother, after sorting it out we went to class and I told my friends what’s going on. Shotaro sat next to me in class and we were talking and laughing to make it believable so while my brother way standing outside my class window he could see it and think we’re actually together, Mingi hated the fact that my attention wasn’t on him, he say the way Shotaro was looking at me so I texted him reassuring him that it’s just so my brother believes me and could leave me alone which means that it’ll be over soon, since Shotaro wasn’t in school for a while since him and his family went on holiday my brother believed me when I said we were dating since he wasn’t in class to make prove it until now.

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Taglist: @scarfac3 @huachengsbestie01 @tunaasan

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trashforeverythingdotcom · 4 days

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Castaways

Ghoul! Cooper Howard x Alien! Reader

A/n: I may or may not post the next chapter today since I’ve got a bit of a road trip today. I might finish editing it and post it soon after. I’d like to thank you guys for taking the time out of your day to read my fic. It means a lot even if not a lot of people are reading it lol -3- ily 🥹

Once again, the reader will be referred to as Elena for the first half of the chapter since it’ll be in Cooper’s perspective and he still thinks you’re someone else.

Brief summary of the story: you are an alien that crash lands on Earth in your way to another planet. Cooper runs into you on his mission to find his bounty.

Chapters:

1 2 3

The sun beat down on the Ghoul’s big bald head, cooking the skin a bit more as if it hadn’t cooked enough when the nukes fell almost two hundred years ago. His burn scars shone in the sun’s harsh light as his face cooked onto the bare sand on the floor. The horse that he’d collected sat by him loyally as he waited for his new owner to wake up from his long slumber, listening to his owner’s open-mouthed light snores.

“Well, looky what we’ve got here,” the Ghoul’s eyes stirred behind the lids as he started to wake up. The voice was familiar to him. “You look like a goddamn potato that’s been laying on one side for way too long,” the voice carried a similar accent to his.

The Ghoul groaned as he lifted himself up a bit, sitting up and placing his cowboy hat back on his head before looking up at the man speaking to him. Another ghoul. “Yeah, you’re quite the looker,” he muttered sarcastically, shaking his head and wiping the sand that clung to his face off. Although they’d been deeply affected on a physical level by the radiation when the nukes hit, his friend had seemed to have gotten the shorter end of the stick out of the two. Where the older Hollywood star had developed scars and lost a nose, he’d left mostly intact. At least when compared to the younger one. There were chunks of skin missing from his scalp. Where his eyes were supposed to be white, they were red. His irises were a light blue colour, the red made them pop out in an eerie way.

“This is an odd place to be nappin’, old man,” the other ghoul held out his hand to help the bounty hunter up. The bounty hunter thanked him quietly as he took the irradiated man’s hand and stood up. “What’re you doin’ around these parts?”

“The usual,” the older ghoul answered vaguely, not bothering to go into details. He didn’t need to. They’d known each other long enough to know what kind of jobs they’d picked up. “You?” He nodded at him, keeping his eyes on his old friend.

“Me too,” he paused. His eyes lit up as an idea flashed into his mind. “Wanna work together again, like the good ol’ days? We’ll probably find her quicker.”

The Ghoul scoffed, “after what happened the last time I worked with you, I think I’d rather work by myself, thanks.” He moved to pick his bag up off the floor, it had fallen at one point when ‘Elena’ had, he hated to admit, knocked him out.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Coop, it wasn’t anything personal! It was a mistake! I was a fool in love!”

“James, I missed out on a whole lot of caps because of your foolishness. How can I be sure you won’t fall in love with this bounty?”

“It won’t happen again, I swear. I learned my lesson.”

“I really needed those caps, buddy.”

“I know… I’m really sorry about that, Coop. If it’s any consolation, I fucked myself more when I did what I did.”

The old Hollywood star smiled his signature grin. It was the same old smile, just on a new, scarred and dried face with yellow teeth. “I know, that’s why I was able to forgive you for it.” He chuckled as he climbed atop his recently acquired horse.

“Does that mean you’ll work with me again?”

“It means if you step on my toes, I’ll cut yours off.” Cooper flashed him a side glance as he signalled the horse to start walking.

James nodded and did the same, following his old friend into the forest as he held the rope attached to his horse to guide it.

“The girl went back this way, I’m sure.”

“You’re… sure? You think this woman would be that stupid? Now after having evaded countless bounty hunters for months?”

The Ghoul gave him a side glance before averting his eyes forward once again. “I fucked her friends up pretty good. They’re in no condition to travel.”

The other ghoul took him at his word. He’d known Cooper for a very long time, before the war. They were both Hollywood stars. Well, Coop was. James was up and coming. He was about to make his big break when the nukes hit. He looked up to his senior, constantly asking for his advice and trying to spend time with him whenever he could. Cooper was the first real friend James was able to make as a youngblood in old Hollywood. They also grew up in similar environments, both of them being from the South and all. He was his mentor. After the nukes hit, they’d run into each other, working with one another on bounties every so often, but choosing to work separately, for the most part. He still looked up to him now.

As their horses walked them through the forest, they caught up with each other. It had been at least fifteen years since they’d last seen one another. A lot could happen in ten years. They laughed about the bounties they’d taken separate from each other that had led them to lead lives in different parts of the country. Every time they finished catching up, James felt the need to reminisce about their prewar life. Cooper’s face always contorted the same way when the other ghoul would bring it up. He didn’t like talking about it all that much in general. But he still engaged in the conversation and eased into it when James was the one bringing the topic up. There were two things he never dared to mention: Barb and Janey. Well, three, if you counted his old dog. The younger ghoul may have had his flaws, but he knew how to respect his friend’s boundaries and that was something no amount of caps could pay for.

An hour or so longer had passed before they were able to stumble across the battered space disc again. None of the lights were on, it looked vacant, abandoned. The Ghoul cursed under his breath and hopped off his horse; observing the surrounding area for any clues, any indication of the direction they had last gone.

The reputable bounty hunter continued to scour the area until he was able to find three sets of footprints, all different sizes, heading north. “B-I-N-G-O,” he spelt out, turning to his associate. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” He climbed back up his horse, softly kicking the horse on its side to signal him to start moving again. This time, now that they had a lead, they went at a faster pace.

It didn’t take them long to find the group of fugitives. He raised an eyebrow in confusion when he saw the two men he’d shot down standing behind his target like nothing had happened a few hours ago. The younger Ghoul shot him a questioning look, as if to say I thought you said you’d fucked ‘em up. The Ghoul stayed quiet, his hand at his hip, close to his gun holster. Readying himself for an attack. His apprentice did the same.

“Took you long enough, bunny,” ‘Elena’ greeted the Ghoul with her arms crossed. She curled an eyebrow, turning her head to James. “I see you’ve brought someone. Is kidnapping people your way of making friends?”

James snorted, earning a glare from Cooper. “Look, sweetheart,” the older ghoul sighed, “it ain’t nothin’ personal, I’m just tryin’ to do my job.”

“Yeah, well, we’re just trying to do ours. I don’t understand why you keep following us. If you could kindly stop, we would greatly appreciate it.” She started to turn away when she felt that damned lasso encircle her at the waist again. She was harshly tugged back in his direction, her hands held by that rope tightly at her sides. She squirmed, attempting to wring herself out.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I’ve got a job to do,” he was adamant about taking her with him. She could see it in his eyes that no matter how many times she’d knock him out, he’d keep coming.

‘Elena’ growled loudly in frustration, it was almost animalistic, otherworldly. She took a deep breath before speaking. “Look, mister.” She began, trying to wriggle out of the lasso to no avail. Her hands were pinned to her sides, she felt like a merp–the Nembarian equivalent of a worm. “I’m really trying my hardest not to have to maim or murder you—“

She was interrupted by Cooper scoffing, “you? Murder or maim me?”

Elena closed her eyes and took another deep breath to calm herself down, “if you could just stop following me and leave me alone—“

“Now, you listen here, missy. I’ve got a job to do and a reputation to uphold. So I’m just gon’ take you back down to Nevada and you can deal with the real problem there.”

‘Elena’s’ face scrunched up again, “what the fuck is a Nevada and why the fuck are you taking me there?”

“I don’t know, sis. This guy’s creep, I think he’s trying to turn you into a sex slave or something,” she heard Nikk say.

“Well? Can ya help your big sis out? Or are you gonna let me become a sex slave to this weird—” she cut herself off once she saw her brother punch that Ghoul in the face, causing the Ghoul to let go of the lasso that oppressed her. “—oh… Thank you!” She sang, quickly removing the rope from around her and springing into action.

The other ghoul started to try and catch her, once again, she activated the sound weapon she had in her watch's arsenal for the third time in the span of a day. The two ghouls and her brother groaned. ‘Elena’ rolled her eyes and had another set of headsets materialise over Nikki’s ears to spare him from the auditory warfare.

“Now listen here, you fucks!” She yelled over the noise, “we’re gonna go and you’re going to leave us alone. The next time you come across us, I won’t be kind enough to use this!” She announced.

The Ghoul and his friend looked over at one another, as if silently planning their next attack. One, two, three, Cooper mouthed before they each lunged at the siblings. The reputable bounty hunter removed her ear protection; James did the same to her brother.

Elena moaned in pain, her hands clamping over her ears. She cursed under her breath. She had tried to be kind to this man by not cracking his skull open and here he was, getting in your way again. The Ghoul grabbed her by the waist to keep her close, snaking up to move her hand from her ear. His other hand was pointing his gun at her side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his lips almost touching the skin, enunciating every word that came out of his mouth. “Now you’re going to turn that off, bunny, or I’ll shoot.”

A laugh bubbled from her throat, “you’re not going to. You need me alive. It’ll be a pain for you to nurse me to health—“

“Very perceptive of you, bunny. Now perceive this, I don’t need any of you alive. Not him,” he nodded toward Nikk, “and definitely not the other one hiding behind the tree with his gun pointed at me.”

She heard Dimiil chuckle, “hah, you got me.” She heard her brother's gun go off –zoom– and saw the laser shoot clean through her attacker’s shoulder.

“That’s a cute little light show you’re puttin’ on, buddy.” He grimaced, looking at the clean hole that had burned through his skin and bones before shooting in her brother's direction. The shot was narrowly missed. Her brother alternated shooting between the two ghouls, giving her and Nikki the opportunity to run away from the ghouls and grab their own guns. Once they had their guns in hand, they pointed them at the two bounty hunters.

The shoot out was at a standstill. Tensions were high. They all looked at each other, fingers on their triggers, watching each other closely. Cooper started to cough violently, that seemed to distract his friend momentarily. The three aliens took advantage of the distraction and moved to one side, activating a force field to serve as a barrier from their assailants. They watched as James dug out a strange contraption and had Cooper inhale some kind of liquid out of it.

Elena’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to observe the contents in the vial. Her eyes lit up when she recognised what it was.

Their eyes turned back to the only woman in the bunch. The ghouls pointed their guns at the group. “Go ahead, shoot. It won’t do you any good.” She dared them. The force field was invisible until they took her up on her dare and started shooting at it. Blue light pulsed on the spots that were hit by the bullets. The bullet shells ricocheted off the barrier, back toward them. None of the bullet shells hit James or Cooper, luckily for them. They looked on in confusion. “What do we need to give you so you’ll leave us alone?” She asked.

“What are you?” The older ghoul asked, looking up at the three figures on the other side of the force field.

“Answer my question.”

Cooper stood up, walking up to the force field, his face barely touching it. If he had a nose, it would’ve pressed against the barrier. He stared at her defiantly, clenching his jaw. “You answer mine.”

“These faces are not ours,” Dimiil answered, getting the Ghoul’s attention. “Now, what will it take for you to stand down, sir?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s as much information as we can safely provide you.”

“Well, that ain’t good enough.”

“What are these people paying you?” Elena questioned, hoping that if she’d offered to double the payment, they’d do as asked. Not that they’d even have the means to pay them what they wanted; but knowing was a good place to start.

“If y’all give us a lifetime supply of chems and a steady income of caps for the rest of our lives, we’ll leave y’all alone,” Cooper answered their previous question sarcastically. He was half joking. “All while keepin’ my reputation in tact, of course.”

Nikkand’r rolled his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a walk in—“

“The chemicals, I can get that done, easy peasy. But the caps…” the girl's eyebrows furrowed as she spooked her head. “I mean, how many do you need? Isn’t one hat enough?”

“He probably wants more to change his style up,” said Dimiil.

“Right, because of the lack of hair and the weird scalps. They’re probably insecure about that,” Nikk pointed out.

Cooper’s face wrinkled, his upper lip moving upward, “not caps for your head, you nitwits. Caps. Bottle caps.”

“You mean tapas?” The woman’s language chip glitched and switched her language to Spanish. “¿Para qué necesitas tapas?”

“Y/n, your chip switched the language setting,” Dimiil informed her. “You might want to change it back, he’s not gonna understand you.”

“Verga, se me había olvidado actualizar esta vaina the night before we crashed. My bad,” you managed to change the language mid sentence through your watch.

“Where are you from?” James asked, “I’ve got some friends in Mexico. Wonder if you know any of ‘em.”

“Yeah… we’re from Mexico…” your voice trailed off.

“No, ya ain’t. Bounty says otherwise. Where are you really from?” Cooper pushed.

“So, we can give you your lifetime supply of chemicals, we may not be able to give you a steady income of caps… but we can show you where we buried the bodies,” Dimiil offered, not bothering to answer his question.

The eldest ghoul’s head leaned to the side, “what bodies?”

“These,” you pointed to yourself in an as a matter of fact kind of way.

James chortled, “don’t need to. You’re right in front of us.”

You shook your head, “disguise.”

“Why are you giving one worded answers?” Nikkand’r questioned you.

“Smooth brain. Simple talk work.”

“Well, that’s just plain rude, sweetheart,” the older ghoul scolded you for talking down on them.

You giggled, “see? Simple talk work,” you repeated, sticking your tongue out. “Chems speak of, water down. My chems better. Should last lifetime.”

“Honey, you’re getting on my last nerve,” Cooper warned you, unenthused.

“Can’t hurt us. Field no budge,” Nikkand’r poked the force field, another blue pulse rippled against it at the contact. “You’re right, this does work on smooth brains.”

“Stop playing with the wildlife, we’ve got other shit to do,” Dimiil sighed, shaking his head in disapproval of his siblings’ childish behaviour. Cooper and James looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if to say does this fucker not know who we are? before they turned their heads back to look at the eldest sibling of the three assholes. “If you don’t want to know where the bodies are so you can collect your bounties and go on your way… then this is where we part ways. I wish you the best of luck on your mission. I hope for your sake, we don’t meet again.”

The three of you turned to start walking away when suddenly, you heard a deep, loud roar, and heard heavy footsteps stomping their way. Your new pet wolf stood by Dimiil’s side, ready to pounce. A radbear was charging at you. The Ghoul smirked when the radbear knocked one of your smug asses down. The smirk was wiped clean off his face when he saw you three easily gain the upper hand, subduing the bear. It was quite underwhelming. The oldest man there had hoped the bear would take you out so he could collect his bounty; not quite caring if you were dead or alive anymore. As much as he wanted his bonus, he was getting real tired of the bullshit.

As you started to walk off again, the old Hollywood star spoke up, “wait.” You all stopped in your tracks, turning your heads to look at the two irradiated humans and their horses. “Take us to their bodies.”

“You actually believe that crock of shit story?” James whispered to him as they walked slowly and cautiously behind the group of strangers back in the direction of the battered spaceship; closely followed by their irradiated companions.

“Nope.”

“Maybe they’re from the Institute? I heard they were cookin’ up some weird shit–”

“The Institute is on the other side of the country, James. I doubt it.”

“Then why are we following them?”

“One way or another, I’m gettin’ what I came for.”

That man was stubborn, but he was stubborn within reason.. sometimes. It was a trait James got well acquainted with upon becoming one of the Ghoul’s closest friends. He decided to let the matter go and place his trust in his friend. The man probably had a plan, he usually did. And if he didn’t, well, they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

The battered and dirty exterior of the silver spacecraft popped back into view as they walked. The three smooth skins stopped in front of five mounds of dirt. The five of you silently dug up the shallow graves. Sure enough, the dead bodies they were looking for were there, as promised. You started to speak, “so, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted–”

“What are you people?” Cooper asked again, looking at the original Elena that laid on the ground, limp and cut up before his eyes found their clones’ faces. The original bodies had already begun decomposing thanks to the insects that lingered beneath the surface of the ground. “Cause you sure as hell ain’t human.”

“I think it’s best we part ways now,” Dimiil ignored his question.

“It’s only fair,” James spoke up, “that you tell us who you are. You’ve been leadin’ us on a wild goose chase for the past few months. I’d like to know why.”

You sighed, “we haven’t led you anywhere. You followed them here until they got killed–”

James drew his gun, pointing his gun at you, you heard a clicking noise to signify he had taken his gun’s safety off. “By you?”

Immediately, the force field went back up. “By someone else.”

“Who?” He pressed.

Nikkand’r didn’t bother whispering, his voice cutting through the already tense air. “I know you’ve got a code and all, sis. But we’re not in Nembaria anymore. They won’t know–”

“They will.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

The youngest lost his patience, “our home is over 100 lightyears away, in another galaxy, for fuck’s sake! And we’re under attack! I doubt they’ll give a shit!”

James’ eyes widened as he turned to look at Cooper. The older ghoul only moved his irises to look back at his friend, not wanting to wear his surprise on his face. Aliens? Real aliens? That couldn’t be true. Aliens were simply a creation of science fiction. Nothing real– but then again, it made total sense. The technology you had seemed far too advanced to be human. But Cooper had previously excused it, letting his mind draw conclusions that seemed more logical to him. The flyer for the bounty stated that Elena was a scientist so he didn’t think anything of it before. He hadn’t pushed the matter more than he felt he should’ve. That also explained the inexplicable saucer that lay on the ground.

For some reason, the two ghouls couldn’t move. It hurt them every time they tried to move one of their limbs. It was like they were frozen in time, except everything and everyone around them was still able to move.

“They’ll understand our situation, Y/n,” Dimiil agreed with his brother, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, “you guys are– wow… I won’t take part in this. You two can fuck off. I’ll find my own way home.” You started to step away, you heard Nikki’s voice ring in your head.

The three of them went silent, neither Cooper nor James could hear them. Their mouths didn’t move, but their body language indicated the conversation hadn’t ended. At one point, the silent conversation was starting to boil. Hands were being waved around, fingers were pointed. It had gotten so heated, that one of the men struck you in the face, knocking you over. The other man ran over to check on you before turning over to the one who’d hit you; pushing him down, about to hit him back on your behalf. You grabbed his arm and stopped him. The two of them continued communicating silently, you were holding your cheek in your hand as you cried. Cooper could hear you sniffling from the other side of the force field, he saw the thick blue liquid escape your eyes as you continuously wiped your coloured tears away from your face.

Another minute or so passed as the conversation continued without a single word being uttered by any of them.

Suddenly, you walked over, the force field had been lowered. “Don’t try to move, it’ll hurt more if you do.” You told them, as you and Dimiil approached, kneeling down in front of them.

Cooper closed his eyes, accepting his fate. If he was going to die, he’d do it with dignity. James seemed to have a different idea, he kicked the Dimiil in the shin. The alien took a deep breath. Their quickened heart rates were manipulated into decelerating until they fell asleep. Nikk glared at the two ghouls as you and Dimiil made them lose consciousness. You both then carried them into the previously vacant silver structure while the youngest stayed where he was with his arms crossed. Its lights turned on when you signalled for the door to open. Nikk refused to go in with you, opting to stay outside until he could cool down without being forced to by his older brother.

Dimiil set James down on one of the beds. You did the same with Cooper. “Are you okay?” He asked once you’d finished settling the irradiated humans down. He studied your face.

You sighed, “yeah, I’m good,” and turned to walk away. “I just need a little time to myself,” you mumbled, moving to sit in the cockpit away from everyone else. Your brothers left you alone, electing to stay in the bedroom and go to sleep to give you your space. You sat in one of the chairs in the cockpit, bringing your knees to your chest. You cried quietly to yourself as you stared out the window into the dark nothingness of the Yellowstone wilderness.

#alien reader #alien reader x ghoul cooper howard #50s 60s alien aesthetic #alien x ghoul #cooper howard x reader #aliens and ufos #fallout #cooper x reader #fallout tv show #the ghoul

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zwy01 · 2 months

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Blood Moon AU!! Part 1 - Nobles

Time for a second major AU yayy!! I’m still working on Millennium AU as usual, though I want to get started on another one that’s been on my mind since years ago but never really got the chance to put on paper.

So here we are. I’m calling this Blood Moon AU. The nobles and werewolves basically have a race swap in an almost brand new setting. Lukedonia and werewolf island still exist; it’s the characters that have changed.

All characters reference their canon counterparts to various degrees. Some are similar or even near identical to the original, while some are vastly different. This could apply to names, looks, personalities, heritage/family, moral alignment… etc. It’s gonna be fun! I’m going to let myself get crazy with this and change things up quite a bit, haha.

As for the story. To be completely honest, at this point I just want to start off this new AU as more of a simple artistic approach. Right now I’m much more interested in designing and drawing the characters rather than writing the story itself. Maybe I’ll come up with something much later but it won’t be nearly as complicated as Millennium AU, and it’ll be fairly straightforward. Even then, I don’t want to rush it so that’s for the future. If I end up liking this new AU more than I do right now, maybe I’ll give the story an honest shot and turn it into more of a long-term project, but time will tell.

(Fyi “Noblesse” does not exist in the world. Too early for details but they either never existed, are a now permanently extinct special type of noble, or they simply peaced out and ditched Earth and returned to their special heavenly realm… etc. Honestly doesn’t matter. In this AU’s setting, they are absent. “Raizel” and his brother do exist but they’re both human. Actual normal human beings, with a normal life, currently students at a normal high school, stuff like that. Just your average human. The trio are also unmodified normal human beings. They are scattered across the world and never meet each other. Basically, unlike their canon counterparts, their existence is minimal and contribute to almost nothing in this universe. It’s weird, I know! That’s just how this AU is set up)

I’m going to split the noble and werewolf characters into two parts. Doing the (originally werewolves) nobles first! Posting the werewolves in a future post aka. part 2.

The characters!

Lucretia Natalina “Lunark” Drosia: Leader of the Drosia Clan. Kendrick’s twin, and on-and-off lovers with Julius. A rather carefree woman who is primarily interested in having fun, and shows little to no concern for the future of Lukedonia as a whole. When it comes to her people, she is a decent Clan Leader and manages her family efficiently. Lucretia’s efforts only apply to her clan, and her interests in other noble affairs are almost nonexistent. She has a habit of ditching meetings and whatnots. Sometimes, she even tries to ignore the Lord’s summons but ends up going anyway because her lovely daughter makes her show up. The only thing that can get Lucretia’s blood pumping with true passion is an offer to spar. Lucretia is an excellent fighter. People have to be very careful to not interrupt her fights unless they want to unleash her wrath, because she hates it when people invite themselves into her business. She also likes to flirt with her opponents during spars. Lucretia has a bit of a weird relationship with Julius, who is the father of her daughter. They seem to have positive feelings for each other, but that’s only when both of them are very bored and have nothing better to do.

Kendrick Tian-Chen “Kentas” Ru: Leader of the Ru Clan. Lucretia’s twin. A prideful, stubborn man who believes that the stronger should rule the weak. Like his sister Lucretia, he likes to fight and enjoys a good spar. Sometimes, people can choose to settle a quarrel with Kendrick by offering to spar with him and he would gladly accept. You can trust him, because he’s a man of his word. No more grudges, no hurt feelings. Done. In a way, he’s quite simple. Unlike his sister, Kendrick does care about the future of Lukedonia. He has a strong moral code of his own, but that can be overridden by his belief of submitting to the strong. That is why Kendrick is extremely loyal to their Lord and never questions him even if the latter makes some controversial decisions. As of now, Kendrick has no children.

Marcus Duruvan “Maduke” Siriana: Leader of the Siriana Clan. Erica’s older brother, and the Lord’s advisor. The only person who truly has everyone’s best interests at heart. You can say he’s the most “good person” leaning guy in this entire AU. Marcus is quite worried about the future under their Lord’s reign. Life is pretty comfortable inside Lukedonia, which is by itself very isolated from the rest of the world. However, Marcus foresees the destruction of planet earth if no one stops the Lord, since the latter doesn’t care about other races and is only concerned with the prosperity of nobles. Though, he doesn’t want to overthrow the Lord and instead wants to convince him to step away from his current path of darkness. He believes there is still hope. Simultaneously, Marcus is secretly gathering followers and supporters who all share his beliefs and formed his own organization. Together they work to transport resources out of Lukedonia and deliver them to humans and werewolves in need because the Lord refuses the share.

Marcus is struggling to plan for the future of the Siriana Clan, in case the Lord gets tired of him and decides to kill him one day for “meddling” too much, because his younger sister Erica is insane and cruel which makes her the worst possible candidate for the next Clan Leader of Siriana. Marcus loves her, but also fears her. He doesn’t know what she is capable of. Marcus is trying to look for ways to bypass his sister and hopefully be able to hand over both his position and Soul Weapon to another pure-blooded Siriana who isn’t his sister.

Marcus had a son, but he was assassinated sometime after his coming-of-age ceremony and now Marcus is once again childless and without an heir. To this day no one can figure out who the culprit is.

Erica Siriana: Marcus’ younger sister, and next-in-line for the position of Siriana Clan Leader. Wife of Lord Maximilian, and mother of Ashlynn. Erica is a ruthless, bloodthirsty woman. She is actually the person who orchestrated her nephew’s assassination. She made sure he was killed, then got rid of his killers, whom she sent, with her own hands. No one is going to suspect a thing and they’ll never find out no matter how hard they try. Erica did this to eliminate brother Marcus’ heir so she can regain her position as first-in-line. She’s been after her nephew ever since he was born, but waited for two whole centuries before doing the deed. To Erica, she’s just getting back what she’s entitled to, which is the full power, control, and privileges of a Clan Leader. Marcus is trying to be discreet but if Erica ever finds out that her brother intends to bypass her and give his position and Soul Weapon to someone else, she might actually just kill him and take over the clan immediately. Erica is truly a terrifying, power-hungry woman who will do anything to reach her goals. She does not care for anyone aside from her daughter Ashlynn and husband Maximilian, whom she genuinely loves. As messed up as Erica is, she is capable of being very loving and committed to whom she treasures. She and her husband are absolutely addicted to each other and he would let her do anything her heart wishes for, even if she continuously breaks Lukedonian laws.

Vivienne Branwen Di Ashlynn: Name means “lively and blessed raven of dreams”. Daughter of Erica Siriana and Lord Maximilian, and the next Lord of Lukedonia. On the surface, Ashlynn isn’t as straightforward as her mother despite their similarities. Ashlynn is just as ruthless and bloodthirsty as Erica, but the former puts on a facade in front of her people and pretends to be a sweet, altruistic future Lord. The perfect angel princess. And she’s very successful at it. Ashlynn is energetic, talkative, and empathetic around her subjects. She always tells them about how she wants her father to teach her power so she can protect not only her subjects, but also people around the world so they don’t have to suffer from hunger and war. In reality, she doesn’t care about any of them and she honestly thinks of them as a burden. They’re nothing more than cockroaches to her, and she’s only doing this because she enjoys deceiving her people and pulling on their puppet strings. She welcomes the love and respect they give her, and at the same time pities them for not knowing better, for she’s had them fooled this entire time. The world is her stage, and she’s the center. Ashlynn only drops her act and returns to her true self around her parents, who not only tolerate, but also accept and even encourage their daughter’s behavior. Well, their entire family is insane. Erica and Maximilian are totally overindulging Ashlynn while being completely aware of the fact that she is just as insane as them with no attempt to correct her, because she’s their little princess and hey, if she wants the world, then they’ll give it to her. Like Erica, Ashlynn doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t her family. Ashlynn loves both of her parents to the moon and back, and she might as well kill anyone who dares to speak ill about either of them. No one is allowed to disrespect them in front of her. Not a single word.

Ashlynn has a crush on Dominic and wants him for herself one day.

Eutimio Friedrich Di Maximilian: Name means “good-spirited and peaceful ruler of the greatest”. The current Lord, husband of Erica Siriana, and father of Ashlynn. Maximilian firmly believes that nobles are the most supreme beings to exist on this planet, and that they have a right to rule over every other species. Humans, werewolves, whatever… well, for now he’ll let them be for as long as they’re still useful. He won’t hesitate to unleash his power on them if he loses his patience. From a world view, Maximilian would be categorized as “evil”, but he doesn’t think of himself as such. In fact, he believes that he is doing good for his people, who are his priority. Which is true from a certain perspective, especially to the nobles who share their Lord’s vision. To them, Lord Maximilian is the greatest Lord in all of noble history. To others who strongly disagree with him, he is the most terrifying and coldblooded Lord in existence. Maximilian is only concerned with the prosperity of Lukedonia and doesn’t quite welcome the idea of distributing resources with the rest of the world. He doesn’t want the nobles to simply exist alongside other species; he’ll make sure the nobles are on the very top of the food chain. Everyone else is irrelevant and they’re all at his mercy. Generally, opinions are very divided and you either side with him, or you don’t. Life is very, very comfortable inside Lukedonia, and indeed, to some nobles, that is all they care about. Those with more empathy see beyond the obvious and are concerned with what goes on outside Lukedonia. The thing with Maximilian is that despite showing neither mercy nor any sign of remorse for his deeds in the outside world, he is actually quite lenient and loving with his subjects. You can say he has two extreme sides to him. He’s very kind to his nobles, but only them. He doesn’t mind if Lucretia skips meetings; he’d let her be. Or when his servants make mistakes, when someone does something offensive, etc... it’s alright, no big deal. In a way, Maximilian’s Lukedonia is teeming with freedom like never before under the rule of his predecessors. This is where Marcus comes in. He is just nervous and overthinking about getting killed if he says the wrong thing, but in reality Maximilian doesn’t mind voices of objection. He’s not going to give anyone a treason sentence or kill them for saying what they really think of him. You can tell him you disagree with him, he’ll just shrug it off and laugh. Say all you want, he knows you’re trying to persuade him, he doesn’t care. He’ll just keep doing what he’s always been doing. Maximilian knows he’s the Lord, and ultimately it is his decision to make. Just don’t let Ashlynn know, because she’ll come after your head if she figures out that you had doubts about her precious Daddy.

Maximilian is a very loving husband and father to his family. He is obsessed with them just as much as they are obsessed with him. On a personal level, while Maximilian himself doesn’t crave for the blood of his own kind like his wife and daughter do, he doesn’t mind letting them do whatever they want for the funs and thrills. Erica and Ashlynn are free to break the law all they want. Though, they’re smart and strategic with it and don’t commit murder in broad daylight. Still, Maximilian is aware of his beloveds’ occasional killings, and he lets them be. He’s the type of person who would let them burn down the entirety of Lukedonia to nothing more than a pile of ash if that is what they wish to do. It’s no big deal, he’ll just rebuild Lukedonia to be even grander and more luxurious than before! To Maximilian, they are the only two existences in this world to come before Lukedonia. How sweet.

Zivon Tradio: Leader of the Tradio Clan. An elderly sorcerer who is quite the hard worker, and spends most of his time studying existing spells as well as coming up with new ones. He’s from the previous generation of nobles, and he stayed behind because he’s just too damn cool to die. Just kidding, his love for magic is why he’s still rocking it. It’s still too early! Zivon’s ultimate goal is to push the boundaries of noble magic and to create what has never been seen before. A true spectacle to behold. Zivon is one of Lord Maximilian’s favorite subjects and the latter even has an entire wifi system built and set up in Lukedonia as a gift just because the former has the hobby of streaming and likes being an “influencer”or whatever the humans call it. Zivon is quite an internet celebrity and Lord Maximilian is supportive of his work of “spreading superior noble influence over humans”. Zivon is also Princess Ashlynn’s tutor, who calls him “teacher”.

As of now, Zivon has no children.

Julius Loyard: Leader of the Loyard Clan. On-and-off lovers with Lucretia. An elegant man who is well-received by his fellow nobles. Julius is a man of few words and usually doesn’t express himself beyond the bare minimum required to be polite. While Julius does admit to enjoying the lavish lifestyle that was a gift from the Lord to all nobles, he is beginning to see why this is a problem for beings outside Lukedonia and starts to sympathize with them. It isn’t easy for him immediately to give up what he’s been used to all these years, but he’s starting to steer away from that lifestyle in support of the less fortunate. Julius was one of the first members to join Marcus’ secret organization of smuggling resources out of Lukedonia to help those in need. Currently, he’s responsible as the leader of the food distribution sector. In his free time, Julius is a jewelry designer and Lord Maximilian is a fan of his work.

Julius’ heir is his son whom he had with Lucretia. He is fond of her but doesn’t entirely agree with her rather carefree personality. They seem to have positive feelings for each other, but that’s only when both of them are very bored and have nothing better to do.

Giada Agvain: Leader of the Agvain Clan. Like Kendrick, she is extremely loyal to their Lord. She’s been by his side since the beginning, and they are childhood friends. Everyone knows that Giada used to feel one-sided love for the then-Maximilian and now Lord Maximilian, but what they don’t know is that she is still in love with him. Well, maybe it’s better for them to continue to believe that she has gotten over him. It’s not like he’ll ever like her back anyway, and you’ll never know what Princess Ashlynn will do if she finds out that anyone other than her precious Mommy is “coveting” her beloved Daddy. Giada is one of the few people who knows about Ashlynn’s true nature despite the latter’s angelic facade. While Giada does love Max on a personal level and is loyal to him, she doesn’t agree with his actions. She is also one of the first members of Marcus’ organization. Currently, Giada is responsible as the leader of the money distribution sector. In her free time, Giada tends to a small spider lily garden.

Giada’s heir is her daughter whom she had with an unnamed noble woman.

Dominic Raffaello “Dorant” Blerster: Leader of the Blerster Clan. A calm and rational man who remains unfazed in extreme situations. He is also the youngest to become Clan Leader, because his mother and predecessor saw so much potential in him, she passed over her title and Soul Weapon to him as soon as he came of age. Dominic pretends to be fairly neutral, and most people think he isn’t dedicated to anything or anyone, but he’s actually Lord Maximilian’s right hand man in the shadows. On the surface, he is simply Clan Leader of the Blersters and does a good job of managing his clan. When he no longer needs to act as Clan Leader, Dominic goes to the castle and reports everyone’s moves to his Lord. Dominic is actually a member of Marcus’ secret organization and oversees the medical distribution sector… as a double agent. His allegiance is with the Lord and he’s only there to watch what everyone else is doing to report back to his master. That includes a long list of who is working with Marcus, what resources they have been smuggling out of Lukedonia, who is on the receiving end… etc. Every. Single. One. So Lord Maximilian is very much aware of Marcus’ “betrayal” thanks to Dominic. Curiously, Lord Maximilian tells Dominic to just let them be. Perhaps he finds this to be amusing. Nobody knows what he’s thinking. Dominic, on the other hand, is in total awe of his Lord for his immense generosity for the “traitors” even though they clearly don’t deserve it.

Dominic doesn’t know that Ashlynn has a crush on him.

As of now, Dominic has no children.

Undine Mergas: Daughter of the leader of the Mergas Clan. A woman with a short temper who is also easily provoked. Undine’s father, the current Mergas Clan Leader, believes that she is unfit to become Clan Leader due to her personality and tendencies to boss the knights around instead of being a responsible and respectful leader like she is supposed to, but he is hopeful that she will change one day. Undine is best friends with Mimi and the two of them are almost always seen together. On one of her travels to the outside world, Undine met a human named Michael Travis Osborn by chance and she has had a crush on him ever since. He’s pretty cute. Maybe the Lord will let her capture him and bring him back to Lukedonia, she thinks.

Mimi Elenor: Daughter of the leader of the Elenor Clan. A woman with a similar personality to her best friend Undine, but less impulsive and more calm. That’s why they get along and are best friends because they have much in common. Mimi has an older brother so she likely won’t become the next Elenor Clan Leader, but she’s fine with that. In fact, she’s glad she won’t become Clan Leader because all those responsibilities, hassles, sitting in meetings all day, blah blah blah… ew, just too much work. She just wants to have fun, so her brother better be competent so she won’t have to bother with her clan at all. Mimi, like Undine, also has a crush on Michael Travis Osborn. They chat about how cute he is. Both of them want to capture him and bring him into Lukedonia. They’re thinking about discussing this with the Lord. If Lord Maximilian hears about this, he’d approve of the capture and tell them to go ahead and enjoy themselves because of course he wants all of his nobles to get their hands on everything they wish for. Plus, these two remind him of his daughter Ashlynn so he’d be even more generous towards them.

Kushaal Kertia: Leader of the Kertia Clan. Cousin of Galileo. A respected fighter known for his immense speed and agility even amongst the Kertia. Kushaal is also honorable. He dislikes dirty fighting and is fairly open to acknowledging his own weaknesses and strives to become even stronger and faster. He has heard about a certain blonde werewolf warrior who is the fastest of his pack, and wishes to fight him one day. While Kushaal enjoys and supports the luxurious lifestyle given to him by their Lord, he believes that humans and werewolves could use some help from Lukedonia. After all, if they’re all gone, he’s not going to have anyone interesting to fight with anymore. Kushaal would love to spar with the werewolves, so he hopes that they’re doing well. In his free time, Kushaal likes to collect rare werewolf artifacts to display in his home because they feel familiar to him, for some odd reason.

As of now, Kushaal has no children.

Galileo Kravei: Son of the leader of the Kravei Clan. Cousin of Kushaal. A man who has a bit of an inferiority complex because his abilities seem to have hit a wall, and he can’t get stronger with his own strength. Galileo is probably going to get by just fine, even though he himself is more impatient than anyone in terms of wanting to gain strength. Other than that, no one really knows much about him since he tends to keep to himself. In his free time, he plays with his three supernatural pet aquatic snakes: Ramen, Ramyeon, and Lamien. Galileo has a huge love-hate crush on Kendrick, and people will tell you he’s both extra mean and extra nice to him. He sends him cheesy “let’s fight” love letters written on rose scented paper. Yeah. He’s totally in love.

And that’s it for now!

Again, very open to questions and discussion. Quite happy about my second major AU! While this post only touches the surface of what I have in mind, I have a feeling that I will grow to like this AU even more. Maybe I’ll even create brand new OCs specific to this AU lol.

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for future posts!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #fanart #kori’s blood moon au #alternate universe #lunark #kentas #maduke #erin #muzaka #zaiga #ashleen #juraki #garda #dorant #gayare #kuharu #urne #mirai

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minimickzy · 10 months

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Practice || Van Palmer Part 1

Guys went a little crazy and I think this will be well over 3k words so I'm gonna split it in two parts- also I swear I don't hate Jackie- she's just such an easy villain.

dialog prompts:

"Hold my hand" "Absolutely not" "We should kiss, for like practice" "I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade." "fuck you"

Characters: Van x Reader, the whole team

Word count: 1568

You had known Van since kindgerraden. You two had been table mates and caused the teacher so many headaches that she moved you to opposite sides of the classroom, which of course only made you two more disruptive. By some miracle, or curse depending on who you asked, The two of you had been in all the same classes leading up to high school, where you still ended up having a good amount together.

She had wanted to be a goalie in soccer so you had to join too, obviously. JV freshman year introduced you to the rest of your high school friend group. Everyone got along as well as you could expect for a small-town soccer team. Although there was definitely still the fair share of petty arguments and drama.

“Come on guys, focus!” Jackie yelled in her normal peppy voice across the field. You grumbled, doing your best not to glare at her.

This practice had fallen apart almost as soon as it started. Jackie and Tai had gotten into yet another screaming match in the locker room, splitting the team up and leaving tension hanging over all of you.

You tried another play, which ended in Natalie completely knocking down Shanua- starting another yelling match.

You stood with a hand on your hip. Waiting for Coach Ben to call it for the day.

“Nice Ass lady” Van whispered as she approached you from behind before breaking into a chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You smirked over your shoulder and winked at her, causing her to fan herself with her hand. “How long do you think before practice is called?”

The redhead tapped her chin pretending to think, “I’ll give it two more minutes- either Coach calls it or Tai decks Jackie out cold.”

You let out a snort, “If Tai takes Jackie- Shauna will be on her before she had the chance to run.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

“I’m sure you would.”

She gave you a cheeky grin.

Sure enough within 2 minutes Coach called it, telling everyone to take the rest of the day and the weekend to cool off.

“So… Natalie, did you mean to knock down Shauna or was it just a stellar accident?” Van asked Natalie before taking a drag of the joint between her fingers.

This was a semi-normal occurrence. Nat, Van, Lottie and you hitting a joint behind the school before leaving practice.

“Can I plead the fifth?” You laughed as Van passed you the joint. “Besides- I barely tapped her.”

You let out a puff of smoke before speaking up again, “Well if we’re still going to that party tonight you better watch out for Jackie's wrath.”

Lottie giggled, “I don't think she even knows how to throw a punch.”

Natalie finished off the joint before flicking it to the ground and stomping it into the ground with her boot. “Guess we’ll have to find out” She gave her most daring grin.

You went home to change and get ready, opting to waste most of your time laying on your bed zoning out to the radio. At 9:30 you went outside to wait for Kevyn to pull up. The major perk of whatever the fuck he had going with Natalie meant you all had a ride to every party.

Sure enough, he pulled up in his semi-shitty car (not that you were one to judge) with Natalie, Van, and Lottie already loaded in. You smooshed into the back seat next to Van who like usual wore an oversized T-Shirt under her jean jacket and tan pants.

As small town trashy as it was, most parties were either held at a few designated houses or, more often, in the woods about two miles from the school. Kevyn pulled up and parked with all the other cars, letting all of you get out. “If you want rides back I’ll only ask you once before I leave.” Kevyn locked his car before wrapping an arm around Natalie's shoulders and heading towards the bonfire.

Lottie made a gagging sound next to you, “I just don’t get what she sees in him.”

“I hear ya Lot. But to be fair I feel that about all her boy toys.” Van added.

You shrugged, noncommittally and started towards a keg, “I don’t know about you guys but I need a drink.”

Lottie spotted some people from her classes and left to catch up with them, leaving you and Van alone.

It’s not that parties weren't for you per se, but Van didn’t much care for them. She’d rather be at your place getting high and watching old VHSs than be surrounded by fellow students after what was already required for school.

You two tended to stay off to the side, making fun of the drunk kids and freshmen who really weren’t ready to be here yet.

You were sitting on one of the log benches, resting your head on Van’s shoulder, laughing at the stupid commentary she was providing before you heard Jackies yell ring out over the noise, “What’d you say Bitch?” You stood up from your spot, rushing towards the scene, Van hot on your heels. Jackie was pushing Natalie away from her, Kevyn trying (not well) to hold Natalie back.

“I said, you’re a stuck-up cunt.” Natalie spat at her.

You smacked your forehead as Van grumbled next to you, “Seriously Nat? Not helpful.”

The two of you weren’t the only partygoers who had come to see the commotion. A circle had formed around the two. “You need to watch yourself, so you don’t end up like your trailer trash parents.”

You could feel Van tense next to you before she jumped between them, “Okay- That’s enough, yellowjackets meeting. Right now.”

Natalie had a fire in her eyes, Jackie's cruelty, and Van's one of disappointment. Natalie huffed but followed Van, prompting you, Lottie, Shauna, and Jackie to follow. You hadn’t seen Tai all night and assumed she probably didn’t show up to avoid being around Jackie and Shauna.

Once you were all a small distance away from the rest of the party Van stopped and clapped her hands together, “alright- let’s talk this shit out before the ally incident from last season repeats itself.”

“There’s really nothing to say other than the apology Natalie owes me.” Jackie started, earning the start of more yelling.

“Hey!” Van yells over the others, “Jackie- you and Tai agreed to move on so now do it.” She rubs down her face with your head, obviously tired of this shit. “Why don’t we do what we did last year before nationals? Do the camp thing where we all have to say something nice about each other.”

As the others protested you moved forward in front of Jackie, “Come on guys- it helped us last time! Let’s try it.” You gave Van a look, trying to show her you were doing your best.

Nat rolled her eyes but nevertheless turned to Shauna and plastered on a smile.

You looked back to Jackie, she seemed apprehensive. You two weren’t really close, but you were civil and had nothing personally against her. She was just very sheltered compared to Van, Nat, Lottie, and you. And you assumed Shauna but you weren’t really sure.

“Jackie…. I think you’re a great leader.” Okay, you had to be better than that, “The way you can rally the team is impressive…. And I really love your style.”

Better right?

Sure enough, she smiled and thanked you before returning the favor.

You and Van had each other last, which was definitely for the best because you were crossed enough that there was no way you could stay serious with her.

She stepped in front of you and smirked, “(y/n), I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade."

"fuck you"

She barked out a laugh and lightly hit your arm, “What? It’s true!”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, “ First of all it was an accident, Secondly I barely hit you, you were just dramatic.”

“Mmmm, that's what you wanted Mrs. Todd to think.”

You shook your head but couldn't help from joining in her laughter. Her laughter was contagious you swear to god.

“Okay okay, my turn. Tell me how great I am.”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think, “I don’t know? Maybe your rugged good looks? Your amazing sense of humor? Your seemingly unlimited supply of weed? There’s just so much to pick from. Wait I know, I love that you’re the most fucking outstanding, compassionate, beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

It had been meant to be light-hearted, and it was. But now that the words were hanging in the air they felt a lot heavier, like more of the truth than you had intended had sneaked in.

Both of you had fallen into a delicate silence, the rest of the team and party fading into the background. She was still smiling, more earnestly than you had seen in a long time. “Thank you.”

You give her a half smile, “It’s just the truth.”

Natalie wrapped her arms around both of you, missing the fact that she was interrupting a private moment, “Palmer, you never cease to amaze me. Jackie actually apologized.”

Van smiled, “that’s great.” It came out strained and you tried not to cringe.

#yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets #van palmer #jesus i am losing my mind

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kay-elle-cee · 7 months

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@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 2 || 1252 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“Come on, Pete, just a few more.”

James is splayed on the floor of the gym next to the blonde man, watching and counting encouragingly as his friend sits up once, twice, three times in an effort to finish this cycle of reps. It was their third day this week coming to the gym—ever since Peter’s girlfriend had dumped him the prior week, the man was determined to throw himself into a total transformation, a “revenge body” if you will. (And James, being the sympathetic and athletic friend that he was, had volunteered to help. Besides, it was nice to spend some time with Pete, just the two of them.)

As Peter falls back against the unique texture of the gym floor, James sits up and pats his knee in triumph. “You did it, mate! One whole week in the books. That’s something to be proud of.”

“I feel like I’m going to die.”

“That goes away with time.”

“That’s what you said about Paula, too.”

James sighs, running a hand through his sweaty curls. Being the optimist he is, he and their other friends had plied Peter with the traditional post-breakup platitudes (that they did fully mean): It’s her loss, mate; you’ll forget all about her in time; we know you thought she was the one but really how much did you know about her? Peter and Paula had been together for half a year, and while she was a lovely girl (before breaking his friend’s heart) James hadn’t really gotten it. She had never meshed with their group—which, James supposes, isn’t a mandatory requirement for a romantic partner—but it seemed getting along with your boyfriend’s friends would be some sort of minimum requirement before one finds themself ‘in love’.

In short, he had never assumed Pete and Paula would go the distance. Just like James and Arya hadn’t, or Remus and Alfred. Sirius hadn’t brought any partners around the group, but seemed to share in James’ theory all the same.

“And I mean it,” James replies, standing and offering a hand to Peter, pulling him up off the floor. “It’ll hurt worse right at the start, but your muscles will get used to it.” He turns and leads the way to the treadmills for their cooldown—something quick and easy that Pete can take at his own pace. With a heavy sigh, Peter starts at a brisk walk at the machine next to him, and James presses the buttons on his until he’s at a light jog.

Running, even stationarily, gives James a time to just retreat into his own mind. His eyes glance up to the television sets that are affixed to the ceiling in front of the row of cardio machines, flicking in between news, sports, reruns, and more news. A flash of something from his left catches his attention and he finds his attention drawn to a woman rounding the corner of the front desk, beautiful red waves pulled atop her head and cascading down, bouncing as she walks through the machines. He finds his eyes transfixed, feeling unusually breathless so early in his run as he struggles to refocus his attention to anything other than the woman—his feet, the news, the bloody rerun of Friends he’d seen a dozen times.

He almost succeeds, until someone in a matching polo shirt walks by her and says something that causes her to throw her head back in utter delight, her laughter wafting over to where he is trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and he misses.

Well, he doesn’t technically miss. His foot just steps halfway off the belt of the treadmill, meaning in a split second he’s crashing to the ground and causing a scene, Peter gaping above him. James lies there for a few seconds—in a bit of a daze and ego more bruised than any actual physical part of him—when red hair and the most vibrant green eyes he’s even seen in his life come into view next to Peter, looking down at him with a mix of concern and held back amusement.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice, wry and definitely laced with unshed laughter, kicks him out of his daze and he scrambles up. “Fine. Just better learn to walk in a straight line, I suppose.”

“Yes, they’ve gotten rid of all the twists and turns in the newest model,” she agrees sagely, nodding her head towards his still-running machine. She walks between it and Peter’s machine, hitting the stop button and motioning at his elbow. “Looks like you scraped yourself up pretty nicely. If you follow me, I can show you where we keep all the first aid.”

James has to blink a few times before realizing that no this was not a dream and yes she was looking at him expectantly to answer. Clearing his throat he casts a glance at Peter’s machine, and—seeing that he still has seven minutes—claps his shoulder in encouragement with a hasty mumble about being right back and trails after the red-haired woman.

In less than a minute they’re entering a small room marked Employees Only next to the front desk and she gestures for him to sit down.

“You know, I’ve seen you in here before,” she says, shuffling through some supplies on the eye-level shelf next to her. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a klutz.”

She’s seen him here before. She’s noticed him before. James feels his brain short-circuit at her words, remembering to wipe any sort of dumb, awe-struck expression from his face just as she turns around with a small package of antiseptic wipes and hands it to him.

“I’m usually not,” he confesses, shooting her what he hopes is a suave smile as he takes a wipe and cleans the scrapes on his elbow. Looking up and meeting her eyes, his brows raise. “Got distracted by someone.”

To his delight, a small flush colors her cheeks, and she doesn’t immediately look away. Instead, she seems to contemplate something before reaching for a pen and a spiral of paper and writing something down.

“You know, it’s silly,” she says, still scribbling, “but after an injury the gym insists those patrons have someone supervise them on the machines.”

“Oh, do they?” James asks with a smile.

She makes a noise of assent, ripping the paper from its binding and hands it over to him. “Unfortunately, yeah. A bit overkill if you ask me, but what can you do?” Her eyes flicker from his to the paper in his hand. “I’ve written my schedule down there for convenience—you know, as someone familiar with the incident. Could save you some time when you come in, having to explain it and all.”

James nods solemnly, fighting back the grin that threatens to split wide his face. Instead, his brow knits in a show of confusion as he points to the top of the paper. “And this number here?”

“Oh, well, that’s my mobile number.”

“Ah yes, I see that now.”

“For any, you know, outdoor running supervision you may require. When a treadmill doesn’t really do the trick.” Her brow unfurrows, all fake-seriousness wiping away as she shrugs, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed. “Or if you fancy a drink.”He loses the fight against the grin, his lips pulling up into a wide smile as his eyes glance down at the paper in his hands and trace over the name Lily that’s been written above the phone number.

#jilytober2023 #jily #james potter #lily evans #jple #31 prompts #it's (always) you

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oskea93 · 3 months

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Keep it to Yourself (2)

✶ DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx x OC ✶

Warnings: Mention of drug use, cursing. A/N: Thank you so much for the love guys!! I hope you enjoy the 2nd chapter, it's kind of a long one. If you would like to be tagged, just let me know! Gif(@ughmerlin)

Taglist: @fancywasmyname1, @kaitieskidmore1, @xxisxxisxxis, @sparxx27, @cruecifymesixx, @tempt-ress, @a-sia-san, @x-xinenas, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @makaelahdelvalle

“Is this some kind of sick joke, Bryant?”

I leaned my head against the payphone door – watching as Nikki filled up his car. “Afraid not.”

Wyatt stayed silent for a moment, my surprising news turning more into a nightmare as the minutes passed. He let out a sigh, “You’re 20 years old – got your whole life ahead of you but you decide to fuck it all up by eloping that idiot.” His usually soothing voice dripped with anger.

It was a total whim – Nikki and I were just sitting around, and he brought up the idea of getting married. We’d been together for a year almost and the thought of marriage never crossed my mind. I didn’t even think Nikki found our relationship to be serious half the time. He had dreams of becoming a rockstar – a wife – the old ball and chain – would only hinder that dream. There was no ring – no getting down on one knee. It was basically you have this one chance to say yes and get it done or it’ll never happen again. We scrounged up enough money to get a marriage license and were married the next day at the courthouse. A random guy from the street was our witness – Nikki buying him a bottle of booze as payment. It wasn’t the fairytale wedding most girls dream of, but it worked for us.

“I thought maybe you would have a change of heart and be happy for us.”

An annoyed laugh rang through the receiver, “Be happy for you – Bryant, you need to be married to this kid like you need a hole in the head. I’ve told you from day one that he wasn’t the one – have you're fun and then leave. You need to be with a man that has structure – someone with a steady income – I don’t give a shit if the guy works on Wall Street or at the gas station on the corner, Nikki is not the man you need in your life.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Uncle Wyatt.” I muttered.

This seemed to piss him off even more – “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I played with the phone cord, unsure of what to say. “It’s just –“

“Just what, Katherine?” His tone aggressive as he used my legal name. “Now that you’re married, you think that you can talk to people however you want? Just remember this little girl-“ He paused. “I’ve known guys like Nikki all my life – Hell, I’ve been one of those guys and I know how they pick one girl, stay for a bit, and then move on to the next thing. Don’t come crying to me when he kicks your ass to the curb when the next little hottie crosses his path...”

I could pick the man out of a sea of people.

His hair was a little longer than I last remember – his clothing changing with the times and trends. The fancy sports-car that the guys purchased for him glistened in the California sun – the sun hitting the red paint just right.

“There she is.” His arms spreading open expecting me to jump right into them for one of his ‘famous hugs.’

“Hey, Doc.” I forced a smile as he pulled me in.

His touch felt more like relief than welcoming – kind of like a forced thank you for coming and saving my ass. “I’ve missed you, kid.”

I pulled away first as he took in my appearance. It’d been almost three years since we’ve seen each other – a lot of things changing in that time. “You look great.” He smiled. “More mature – nothing like that little girl I met backstage.”

“Yeah, well –“I shuffled nervously. “Someone had to grow up and become the adult.”

His eyes locked with mine, squinting as my words coursed through his brain. “May look different but that attitude is still the same.” He pulled my suitcase out of my hand, placing it in the trunk as I placed myself in the passenger seat. I took a couple deep breaths – the reality of what was about to happen finally hitting me. I was cool as a fucking cucumber the whole flight – only worrying that Wyatt would pop up at any second and drag me off the plane by my boots. I didn’t think about what I would do or say when I finally saw Nikki again. I already knew that he wasn’t going to be happy – raging would be more like it.

The thought of if this was a good idea was now creeping into my psyche. Hannah’s warning to watch my moves and have an escape plan just in case he’s bad enough where he tries to harm me played on repeat as Doc drove through the canyon. From the way he was going, Nikki still lived in the same house.

��So-“Doc smiled. “What’s been happening with you lately? Last I heard you were living in South Carolina.”

I glanced at him through my shielded lenses, rolling my eyes. “Just living life.” I was short.

“You got a job?” He continued to press.

“No –“I turned to look at him. “I just live off my good looks and hope old men want a young plaything to leave all their money too.”

His face instantly fell as he glanced at me – my face expressionless as he fumbled to form a sentence.

He chose to end the conversation after that leaving the rest of the journey completely silent. I was somewhat grateful but talking made me forget about my internal thoughts – the ones eating away at my emotions...

“Where are we even going?”

I watched as million-dollar homes passed by as we travelled further into the hills. Nikki remained silent – his eyes hidden behind his dark shades – a stoic expression on his stubbled face. We had been driving for almost 30 minutes – silence taking up most of that time. I could tell from his body language that he was nervous. His body was stiff as he kept both hands on the steering wheel. He was home from the first leg of the Shout at the Devil tour – the guy I had known before tour started was left somewhere on an abandoned highway. Nikki was different – a little distant – more focused on the drugs and booze than before.

Instead of saving the money that was coming in from the shows, he and the rest of the band went on a spending spree – laying thousands down on new cars, expensive clothes, and the finest designer powder they could get their mitts on. It was a nice feeling not to be struggling anymore but Nikki was going through the money like water in the desert. His habit went from a couple bumps here or there to being desperate for the next fix. Shady looking characters were in our apartment every night as he got ready to go out with the guys. They followed him around like a puppy would their owner – Nikki was their client – he had the money, and they had the blow.

I kept glancing at him as he concentrated on the road, “Is there a party up here or something?”

He cleared his throat, slinking further into the leather seat of the Camaro. “No.” His answer simple.

“Then why the hell are we u-“

He stopped the car in front of a large home – the exterior darker than those around. “Welcome home.” His voice flat. I looked between him and the house – confusion written all over my face.

“What?”

“You wanted a house, didn’t you?”

I stayed quiet for a second – trying to process the situation. “Are you trying to tell me you bought a house – this house – and you didn’t bother to ask me how I would feel about that?” I pointed towards the home; my eyes fixed on Nikki.

He ignored the question, driving past the gate that secured the house from the open road. The driveway was long and steep – the house sitting perfectly on the hilltop. It was an open landscape – not many trees and the perfect view of those that lived in the valley.

“Nikki – you can’t be serious right now?” He placed the car in park – turning the engine off before removing himself from the car. I didn’t wait for him to let me out, hastily slamming the door shut as he rounded the passenger side. “Please tell me you didn’t buy this house?”

“You know-“He smiled as he removed his sunglasses – the telltale signs of last night written all over his face. “You bitch about living in a small apartment but yet here you are bitching me out for buying you a beautiful house.”

I raised my hands in the air, “I didn’t ask you to buy me a fucking house, Nikki!”

He rolled his jaw in anger as I vented about how we were supposed to be saving money and not throwing it away on things that we didn’t need or things we could wait for. I was perfectly content in staying in the apartment – hell, it was better than the one he was in when I first met him. I made sure to keep it clean and we shared the rent 50/50. Just because Motley had become a success didn’t mean that I wanted him spending that hard earned money on a house. We had plenty of time to look at houses – a house we would both love – not the first one that had a for sale sign.

“Fine –“His voice low. “You don’t want to the fucking house – “He hastily reached into his shirt pocket fishing out the key before throwing it as hard as he could down the embankment. “Then no one will fucking get the house!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” My anger exploded as I raced to find the key. He stood behind, leaning against the black hood. I knew it was gonna be like finding a fucking needle in a haystack – the only chance of getting into the house would be to break in...

Doc’s car pulled up the familiar driveway – Nikki’s overzealous purchases sitting in front of the house. “I’ve always hated this house.” I muttered.

“Yeah-“Doc smirked. “Nikki’s made mention of it a time or two.” He placed the car in park – a knowing sigh slipping past his lips. “Ready for this, kid?”

I tucked my lip between my teeth – a nervous habit I had since childhood. “Ready for it like a hole in the head I guess.”

He chuckled at my answer, walking up the stairs ahead of me. The day I left kept flashing in my mind – the way my shoes hit the stone steps – Nikki trying to follow behind but stumbling from the drugs. Doc unlocked the door using his personal key that he had made, telling me that he had keys to all the guy’s houses. Stepping across the threshold showed me just how much he had changed. The once bright living room was now painted in a dark red – black, leather furniture scattered around the room. The house was an absolute mess! Liquor bottles, beer cans, food containers, and clothes littered the living room and kitchen.

“You can’t afford to get him a housekeeper?” My nose turned up at the smell. “This place is a fucking pigsty, Doc.”

He waved me off as he started towards the staircase. From what I could see, all the doors to the rooms were closed – the bedroom we shared being off to the left side. “Let me go see if he’s up and decent.” I nodded my head, looking around in disgust at the mess.

Gold and platinum records lined the walls – older photographs joining here and there. The photos that hung while we were together were nowhere to be found – probably burned and turned to ash. Heavy footsteps sounded as the person descended the stairs – my heart starting to race at the thought of seeing Nikki again.

Doc appeared seconds later, “He’s not here.” He spoke out of breath. “Fucking needles and baggies are lying all over the closet floor – probably got high and left for God knows where.”

I threw my purse on the couch, taking a haphazard seat as Doc began to pace the room.

“When’s the last time you seen him?” His eyes connecting with mine.

He thought about it for a second, “Probably three – four days ago I guess.”

I looked up at the ceiling, my tolerance for him starting to waver. “You have a guy that’s actively addicted, knocking on death’s fucking door, and the last time you laid eyes on him was four days ago? Are you fucking kidding me, Doc?”

“I talked to him on the phone the day before yesterday and he sounded fine. I can’t be on babysitting duty twenty-four fucking seven, Bryant. I have other bands that need me –“

“No-“ I cut him off. “You have other cash cows that are out there killing themselves so you can make a name for yourself and have money in your pocket.”

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, “I didn’t bring you out here so you can rip me a new one, Katherine.”

My anger finally coming through, “Don’t fucking call me that.” My finger pointed in his face. “You don’t have the right or luxury to ever call me by my real name.”

“And who has that luxury, Bryant?” He pressed. “Your fucking ex-husband who’s out there killing himself because you fucking left him? You know you may think it’s my fault that Nikki is the way he is, but you’re just as much to blame. He didn’t get bad until you sent the fucking divorce papers – this is on you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” I pushed past him, making my way to the front door.

I started walking down the driveway, not even caring that the sun was starting to set, and I didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to pick me up. I made it about halfway down before Doc’s car came up beside me. “Get in the car, Bryant.” His voice monotone. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that in my 25 years of being on this planet. That was my go-to move anytime Nikki pissed me off and we happened to be in the car. Hell, there was sometimes I would just get out of the car at a red light and start walking down the busy street.

“I’m sorry –“ I turned to look at him. “I don’t accept rides from assholes.” My boots slapping against the concrete.

Doc let out a string of curse words, finally stopping the car as he got out and tried to catch up. His fingers grabbed tightly onto my wrist, spinning me around into his body. “Fucking stop, Bryant.” His breathing ragged. “I already have enough to deal with and you acting like a fucking brat doesn’t need to be added to the plate.” I pushed the hair out of my face, yanking my arm out of his hold.

I waited a second as he walked back to his sports car before inching my way back to the passenger side. I may have slammed the door a little too hard, earning a look from Doc as he drove to the main road.

“Vince is throwing a party-“He spoke. “My guess is Nikki’s probably there since all the dealers are there.”

“He’s like a month flying to a bug zapper.” I mumbled.

The drive to Vince’s beachside mansion didn’t take long – traffic being light for that area. Different cars surrounded the home as music blared out of the open windows. I watched as people moved out of the way as Doc drove up to the front – those outside looking to see who was arriving. I didn’t bother waiting for Doc this time – getting out and stomping up the staircase.

I had no idea where he could be – the house was ginormous. The music grew louder as I neared the living room – a circular couch sitting in the middle of the room. A tall skinny guy was the first person I noticed – still having the same stupid haircut he had when we first met. Tom was a fish out of water in the world he lived – the opposite of Motley Crue. It still amazed me to this day that he was the reason Motley got signed.

My eyes moved across the couch, a head full of jet-black hair bent over a silver serving tray caught my attention. I watched as the lines that were perfectly placed vanished as the rolled up bill moved in a vertical motion. His head popped up for a moment, rubbing his nose as the high was hitting.

“I see you found him.” Doc stood next to me. “This is mild compared to what he’s usually doing.” I kept my eyes trained on Nikki as he talked to Mick and Tom – laughing at whatever they were saying. “Bring back memories?”

I glanced at Doc, rolling my eyes before walking towards the white couch. Nikki was in his own world that he didn’t even notice that someone was getting closer. Tom was the first to notice, his jaw dropping to the floor as his eyes grew wide.

“Holy shit.”

Nikki and Mick looked up to see what caused Tom’s reaction, Nikki’s eyes connecting with mine. It took him a moment before his smile started to fall – sobering up within seconds.

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heliads · 2 years

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Hey darling, hope you are doing well ! If possible I'd like to request a finnick x reader, where they were rivals/enemies growing up but ever since the reaping (for the reader first) she realises that she can't live without annoying finnick (too proud to say that she loves him) and when she wins the games, she tells finnick that even though they fight and argue like 24/7 for all their life, she loves him and was thinking about him all the time during the games and that she tried to win for finnick.

[ Also if possible for a part 2 ]

Finnick gets chosen for the next hunger games and the reader won the last one so she mentors him. But Annie is with him for the games and she gets close to Finnick and it makes the reader jealous. And you can decide for the ending if you want Finnick to have a dramatic end where he has to kill Annie in the games or someone almost kills Finnick but the reader pulled some strings for it to be Annie instead. Have fun with it, I don't mind whatever ending you write !! Thank you again darling and take care ❤❤❤

hi darling! i don't take requests for fics with two parts so you simply get both parts in one :) it is long enough for two parts though LMAO

masterlist

Sunlight on a Reaping day. Two things that seem as if they should never go together in the slightest, yet do. You think it would be far more fair if the world would save its pleasant days for hours that aren’t spent on horror. What a waste of good temperature, rare beauty in this thankless existence.

You have a few hours left before you have to turn in with the rest. The town square is clear right now, eerily empty; you can see it from the top window of your house, not that you’ve been looking. Not that you’ve been wondering what it’ll look like when that entire square is full of people waiting to hear which two of you will die this year.

You’re not in your house now, even though you’re supposed to stay there until the time comes to attend the Reaping. You can’t bear to be stuck there a moment longer. You always get this way when the Reaping comes around, as if by putting yourself in any cage, it’ll be that much easier for your name to be pulled from that bowl.

You don’t know how much time you have left until the inevitable comes. Every year, your name must come closer and closer to being pulled. Perhaps it’ll happen today. At least then the waiting would be done. You’d only have to be escorted to your death in the Capitol’s lurid glory, and what’s so wrong with that? You’d even get a decent meal out of the whole gory exchange.

You’re walking on a path near the outskirts of your district, Four. The edge of the sea is just in sight. It would be nice to walk down to where the surf meets the sand, to cool your heels in the bay even one more time, but you know better. The water’s edge is always under guard by Capitol Peacekeepers on the lookout for starving fools looking to steal some fish. You have no desire to risk their wrath on a day like this.

Your tendency to avoid being arrested doesn’t save you from being found, however. You’ve scarcely walked ten minutes before an irritatingly familiar voice sounds from behind you.

“Looking for a chance to run, Y/N?”

You roll your eyes and turn around. A boy has emerged from the shadows of the path behind you, although his golden blond hair shines just as bright as always.

“Wonderful to see you too, Finnick,” you respond coldly, “but I thought I didn’t have to face painful death until the Reaping. That means I shouldn’t have to see you until then.”

Finnick Odair, for of course it is he, bares his teeth in a broad grin. “What could you possibly mean by that? I think I’m hurt.”

You glare at him. “It means talking to you for longer than a second kills off my brain cells more than a trident to the skull. See you around,” you say pointedly, and turn back to the path ahead of you.

What a way to start the morning indeed. You and Finnick have been rivals, enemies, unwilling coworkers, everything but friends since the day you met. You don’t know how long you’ve known Finnick, only that you’ve spent far too much time around him than you’ve ever wanted. It feels like every word out of his mouth is a barb pointed in your direction, all sharp points and deadly blows.

Despite your usual rivalry, however, Finnick doesn’t seem willing to be left alone quite yet. He merely jogs to catch up to you, stretching his arms out in a tired yawn. “What a day. I think I’d almost like getting off work if it weren’t for the fact that it means I might die.”

You tilt your head to the side, considering this. “When you say it like that, it almost sounds like a bad thing.”

“What else could it possibly be?” Finnick grumbles. “Of course, if it got me away from you and into the lap of luxury, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.”

You snort. “Oh, please. If you were ever in the lap of luxury long enough to make it through the Games, I’m sure you couldn’t enjoy a second of it. You’d be mourning my absence, of course, and that would simply ruin everything for you.”

Finnick chuckles. “What, you doubt that I would win? Have I not gotten into enough fights to prove that I could?”

You shrug absentmindedly. “Oh, I’m not doubting your love for conflict. I’m merely worried that every other tribute would get so annoyed by you that they’d make you an immediate target.”

Finnick’s brows raise comically. “Is that so?”

You nod solemnly. “I can see it now. It would be rare for every single other tribute to work together, but they’d make an exception to kill you first. It would be particularly shameful for you personally.”

Finnick laughs, tilting his head back as his eyelashes briefly flutter shut. You look only when you’re certain that he can’t see you staring, and the second he opens his eyes again, your gaze is fixed on the path once more.

“Well, I would hate for any of that to happen. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t volunteer, then?”

You swat him on the shoulder. “Nobody volunteers without a death wish, you idiot. I’m not saying you don’t have one, but I thought even you were smart enough to avoid that.”

Finnick clasps a hand to his chest in the throes of mock agony. “Even me? Y/N, I can’t bear it if you call me an idiot. I may never live from the pain of this insult.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, and do your best to immediately school your expression back into a more personally satisfying neutral. “That wasn’t funny.”

Finnick grins. “No? Is that why you’re laughing?”

“I’m not laughing,” you deny, fighting the corners of your lips from where they threaten to tug up again into a smile, “I would never laugh.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks, pointing a condemning finger towards you, “Because I can see you laughing right now. Don’t try to deny it, I can see you.”

“No you can’t,” you call out desperately, but Finnick won’t hear a word of it.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he says triumphantly, “we all know I’m the funnier one by far, you don’t have to fight it. Just let yourself laugh. It’s what you want, deep inside.”

Now you do laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Finnick says, and has to quickly dodge a vengeful blow directed towards his arm.

To avoid another hit, he grabs at your hands. After a brief moment of struggle, you find yourself staring at the scene, the two of you with your arms woven in such a tight knot that you’re not entirely sure where you end and he starts. Finnick is standing far closer than you realized, you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheeks.

You and Finnick stand there, just looking at each other. You think that the moment might stretch on into the future, never ending so long as the two of you never let go. Finnick’s grip is just as strong as yours, he won’t be the first to part ways. He never would be.

A sharp siren coming from the direction of the town square startles you. Belatedly, you realize that it’s calling everyone in the district to the Reaping. Whatever time you had to distract yourself from this event is now gone, leaving only the haunted look in Finnick’s hands as you slowly step away.

“We’d better get over there before they send Peacekeepers looking for stragglers,” you say, voice barely more than a whisper.

Finnick nods quickly. “Yeah, sounds good to me. You look like a serious troublemaker, you’d better hurry.”

You give him a look, which only makes his lips quirk up again in a smile. It’s a much more muted expression than before, though. Finnick has always been good at appearances, and right now, his mind is on all the people that will be waiting for him back in that town square.

You turn to leave, but Finnick calls something after you before you can disappear back into the waving stands of trees.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.”

You look back at him over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the last moment you saw him at peace if either of you were reaped. If it is, you think you would be alright with it. This wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” you repeat. Finnick smiles quietly again, and you take that as your last reason to leave.

Your family is waiting for you by the edges of the town square. You help a few younger friends and neighbors enter their names into the Reaping for the first time; you smooth skirts and lapels and pray that you won’t know another twelve year old sent into the arena. Eventually, you join the other girls your age in long rows of District Four pride.

Your attendant from the Capitol takes to the stage soon enough, waving blissfully at the rest of you. He babbles on for a few minutes about the delight of being able to represent your district in the Games, the wonders of the Capitol, all of that usual Reaping nonsense.

However, even the Capitol’s latest puppet can only fill his mind with so much chatter before the time comes to send two unlucky sinners to their death. The Capitol man announces that girls will go first, and plunges his hand into a round bowl filled with names. He pulls a folded piece of paper from the vessel, and although the town square has been silent all along, you swear that an additional hush falls through the ranks of people as he squints at the name.

Every year, you complain about how whoever’s doing the Reapings takes way too long to read out the names. This time, though, you think there’s not nearly enough time in between the moment when the Capitol man unfolds the paper and when he reads the name printed there in a firm voice:

“Y/N L/N.”

Your head snaps up. It can’t be. A thousand days of accepting your fate, and the moment when your name actually is called in the Reaping, you don’t believe it. You don’t know where Finnick is in the crowd, but somehow the second you hear your name read aloud, you turn your head and manage to find him in an instant.

He’s staring right back at you, face contorted in horror. Finnick has joked a thousand times that if you were ever reaped, he’d be glad to have you gone. You’ve done the same with him, but now that the day has actually come, he looks absolutely terrified.

You don’t have time to consider how Finnick will survive with you gone, however, the crowds are already parting to give you space to walk up to the stage. You can hear your footsteps echo through the silent square as you make your way up. The Capitol man grins toothily at you.

He tries to engage you in a few questions about how excited you are to take part in the Games, but continues on when you just glare stonily at him. The name read from the boys’ bowl is one you vaguely recognize as one of the fishermen, Clay Riverflake, but it means nothing more to you than another face to see you die.

Soon enough, the Reaping ends, and the two of you are brought back so you can speak to your families one last time before the train comes to ferry you away to the Capitol. Your parents are distraught, but they manage to choke back their sobs long enough to bid you farewell.

There’s one more person waiting to speak to you before you go, though. You’re stunned to see Finnick idling by the door when your parents leave, and say as much to him.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have been out celebrating. You get to be the best trident wielder in all of District Four now that I’m gone.”

Finnick forces a smile; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen it come with such difficulty. “Don’t think grief will get to me, Y/N, we all know my skills with a trident are leagues beyond yours.”

Despite the joke, Finnick’s voice still cracks on the last few words. He’s trying to lift your spirits, though, so you play along.

“Grief? I didn’t know that you would attribute such a strong emotion to all this.” You say casually.

For a moment, Finnick’s facade drops like a stone. “What else could I feel? You’re not supposed to go, Y/N. You’re not supposed to be reaped.”

Your hand flickers out to touch his shoulder for a second before you can stop yourself. “There’s nothing saving me, Finnick. My name is in there just like everyone else. Guess today proved it.”

A Peacekeeper at the door coughs, glancing pointedly at a clock on the wall. You’ll only have a few more moments before you have to go.

Sensing this, Finnick’s eyes shine with a strange sort of desperation, the likes of which you’ve never associated with him before. “Listen to me. Stay alive, alright? No matter what you have to do. Morals don’t matter here, none of that. I don’t care how brutal it is, just make it out. Promise me.”

You feel your breath startle in your chest. “I can’t promise anything like that, Finnick. You know that.”

Finnick shakes his head, unwilling to accept this. “Promise me!”

He’s cut off by the Peacekeeper calling for him to leave. Not wanting a fight on this day of all days, Finnick goes as asked, but he shoots you one last glance before he disappears down the hall, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you before he loses you for good.

You think about that moment the entire journey to the Capitol, even when you’re in the thick of their gaudy festivities. You don’t have much time alone to truly ponder why Finnick, who had been all too complacent in teasing you whenever he could all these years, would suddenly have a change of heart when he thought you were going to die. When the distractions fade away, though, it’s the only thing that’s on your mind.

Finnick isn’t wrong, you need to do everything in your power to survive. The interviews and private training sessions are pivotal, and you’re able to claw your way to respectable showings in both. Maybe it’s due to your actual skills with survival skills and trident fighting that you picked up back home in District Four, or maybe it’s because even the out of touch Gamemakers can tell that there is nothing you would not do to win.

The Games start soon enough. In the weeks to follow, you’ll wonder how such a traumatizing part of your life was able to fade from your memory as soon as it ended. You see the most pivotal scenes over and over in your head, every kill, every fight, but the rest of it disappears. You remember flashes of running, the pangs of hunger, the terror of never being able to truly relax, but what sticks with you most is the horror of it.

When the fifteenth day dawns, it finds you standing alone with bloodied hands, the last tribute dead at your feet. The Capitol will be talking about it for months afterwards, how some girl from District Four was able to take down the most brutal of foes. They won’t entirely know how you did it, no matter how many times they rewind the footage to watch your technique.

They’ll say that you had the right motivation, and in the end, that’s the closest they’ll ever get to understanding you. After all, how could they possibly know that you killed and hurt and massacred because there was somebody waiting for you on the other side? Somebody you need more than anybody, somebody you lay awake thinking of even when your body was weak from lack of sleep.

That somebody is Finnick Odair, and that somebody is there waiting for you the second the train bearing you back from the Capitol pulls into the District Four station. He’s waiting back in the crowds, not wanting to seem like he’s altogether too interested in what happens, but he’s the face you see first when you emerge from the door of the traincar.

You don’t get to speak to him until much later. Your family has to swarm you, of course, and make sure that you’re okay (physically, yes, but in no other regard) before anyone else can even come near you. Only when you’ve returned to your house only to leave it immediately does Finnick find you again.

You’re wandering the paths near the water when Finnick approaches you at last. For a moment, he does not say a word, and you wonder if he’s picturing the same memory as you, when the two of you had been on these same paths and talked until the Reaping began. How far away it seems. How different you have become since that day.

His eyes are soft when they clear and look at you again. “How are you?”

You chuckle bitterly. “I’m not really sure how you want me to answer that. I’m alive, if that’s enough.”

“It is,” Finnick says calmly, “I’m not asking for anything else. I know what happened.”

You want to tell Finnick that he doesn’t know a thing about what went down during those Games, that just because he had to watch every minute of the fighting didn’t mean that he was aware of what really happened. Then again, how could he?

Instead, you let go of the words you’ve really been wanting to say. “I did it for you. That’s why I was able to survive. You told me to get through it, and so I did.”

Finnick nods. “Why was it enough?”

“I don’t know,” you say softly, “Maybe it was because I like bothering you more than anything. Is that silly to say? That I don’t want anything but a quiet house, safe from torment, a place with you in it where I can come down the stairs and see you laughing at the sight of me? I don’t care what words you say, how much they hurt. I just want to be there to hear you say them.”

Finnick stares at you, a dead man’s surprise at seeing the knife protruding from his chest. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m clearly not used to life outside of the Games. Just– promise me something, alright?”

Finnick nods mechanically, perhaps before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. “Anything.”

There’s something in his quick response that you can’t bear to decipher at the moment. “Don’t let this change us. Don’t let it make you feel guilty about making the same jokes because I had to go through the Games.”

Something almost like a smile touches Finnick’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dare let such an opportunity pass me by.”

For a second, you’re able to smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You part ways with something better than what you had before. You don’t see as much of Finnick as usual due to the fact that you’ve been relocated to the Victors’ Village, but he keeps finding ways to drop by every now and then. He’ll make sure to insult the occasional piece of furniture or bejeweled light fixture, but the retorts never have enough of a sting to truly hurt.

The months pass in a haze. You’re allowed your peace for the first few weeks, but Capitol reporters find a way to keep in contact with you. You’re their latest favorite, of course, and the wealthy don’t like to lose their toys so quickly.

Before you know it, it’s time for a new Reaping. You have to go up on that stage again, this time as a Victor. It’s a new perspective, one you don’t particularly enjoy. It felt far safer to blend in with that crowd below, up until the point where your name was called.

In truth, you’re almost just as nervous about this year’s Games as yours. This time, you have to be a Mentor, and the fact that you’ll have the lives of two kids in your hands makes a knot tighten in your stomach. How could you be trusted to save them, to forge the connections necessary to supply them with food and medicine?

You turn your head when the girl’s name is called. You recognize her, Annie Cresta, not only that familiar glint of panic in her eyes when she walks up to the stage but by memories of Finnick saying her name to you again and again. He talks about her often, it’s enough to make anyone feel discontent. By contrast, hearing the name of this year’s boy tribute is enough to send you into a terrible storm of fear.

“Finnick Odair.”

You swear that your blood slows in your veins. How could it be that both you and Finnick would be reaped? How are the odds possibly so skewed against you? Finnick’s face is calm when he’s reaped, and you wouldn’t know he feels a single shred of fear were it not for the fact that no one can hear their name called and not know themselves to be ruined.

You meet with him as soon as you can. Now that he’s out of the public eye, Finnick’s face has taken on a shade more of stress, but he still clasps your hands and asks if you’ll mentor him. He doesn’t trust anyone else, he says. You’re required to help him by Capitol law, but you promise your aid as freely as if it truly had been your choice. Of course you’ll stand by Finnick, you would never forgive yourself if you did anything else.

It’s not like Finnick needs much help, though. He takes the Capitol by storm from the second he shows up, all charming waves and dazzling grins. He blows kisses and the Capitol ladies faint by the hundreds, recites a few lines about how he’s in love with someone from his district during an interview and they fall by the thousands.

He’s unfairly proud of himself, too. The second Finnick comes out of the aforementioned interview, you don’t know that you’ve ever seen him so jubilant, even when he managed to beat you in a swimming race for the first time when you were kids.

You’re waiting for him, leaned up against the wall, and Finnick all but runs your way. “How was that?” He asks, grinning cheekily.

You fight the urge to laugh. “Absolutely absurd. What are you going to do next, start reciting poetry?”

Finnick’s head tilts to the side as he considers this. “Actually, that’s a pretty good idea.”

You scoff. “You’re unreal, it’s fascinating. Well, I hope Annie enjoys the effort as much as the rest of the Capitol.”

Finnick frowns, brought out of whatever reverie he was locked in previously. “Annie? What are you talking about?”

You spread your hands. “It’s like you were saying in your interview. Your hopeless crush on the girl from your district, remember? You’d better hope that Annie likes public displays, or you’re done for.”

Finnick nods slowly. “Yeah, right. Annie. Definitely.”

You glance at him quizzically, but Finnick quickly changes the subject, and the topic of his feelings for Annie is dropped soon enough. Despite Finnick’s momentary forgetfulness, you’re not convinced. You know without a doubt that Finnick’s crush is on Annie, it couldn’t be on anyone else.

How could it be, after all, when Finnick spends so much time with Annie? He helps her during training, you feel like you’re constantly walking into a room just to see the two of them sitting close together and talking in hushed voices. No, there is no one for Finnick except Annie. No matter how that makes you feel, Finnick likes Annie.

No matter how you feel indeed. You were able to admit it yourself during your Games, if not to Finnick’s face: you like him, you love him. It was the hardest realization you’ve ever had, but the most true. You can’t live without him. You don’t want to ever picture a world without him, because you have needed Finnick ever since he walked into your life all those years ago with a proud grin and all the means to rile you up. He is the only person for you, even if he doesn’t feel the same way towards you.

In the meantime, you can keep this promise to yourself by keeping Finnick alive. You don’t have to work hard to convince sponsors to favor Finnick, he manages that quite handily by himself, but you are able to offer him advice on how to keep them around. You swear you’ve chatted up every wealthy soul in the Capitol by the time the number of tributes starts to dwindle.

The only problem with Finnick’s survival, as it turns out, is Annie. Finnick finds himself unable to leave the girl behind, and although Annie is capable of defending herself, her trepidation to enter into serious violence is slowing both of them down.

Eventually, when there are only three tributes left, you know that you’re going to have to do something about it. Both Annie and Finnick are alive, along with a particularly nasty Career named Digit Overbloom. Finnick can kill Digit, of that you’re certain, but then you get into an issue where Finnick and Annie would have to face each other. Finnick is enough of a gentleman that he’d have qualms with deciding which of them would live, but you don’t want him to have to make that choice.

So, you get to talking amongst your sponsors, and arrange for the situation to be taken out of Finnick’s hands. The setup is simple: Finnick is drawn away from Annie when he’s promised a new weapon, and Digit is in turn lured to find Annie unawares. When Finnick returns to his camp to find Digit standing over Annie’s dead body, he’s filled with enough wrath to take the Career on, and from there, victory is easy.

It’s the perfect ending. The only person who doesn’t seem to agree with this, however, is Finnick himself. Once he’s been removed from the Arena and cleared by the medical officers, he storms down to your quarters, shouting at you at the top of his lungs about how you’ve killed Annie.

If there’s one thing Finnick should know about you, though, it’s that you’re always willing to fight back. So, you square your shoulders and argue right back at him.

“It had to happen this way, Finnick. You know that as well as I did. Only one person can win the Hunger Games.”

Finnick’s voice is bitter. “So you killed Annie. Makes a ton of sense.”

“I had Digit kill Annie,” you clarify, “because it gave you the chance to win. That’s what it means, Finnick, I got you out alive. In case you forgot, there’s only one victor.”

He swallows harshly. “I realize that, but you didn’t have to kill her. We could have handled it without you meddling.”

You shake your head coldly. “Alright, fine. Hate me. I don’t care, because you’re alive to do it, and I am selfish enough to say that I would gladly have you despise me for the rest of time if it meant you had enough breath to draw until then. Either you killed Annie or Digit did. And we all know you couldn’t have done the job yourself.”

Finnick blinks at you in surprise. “Why’s that?”

You look away. “Because you love her.”

Finnick steps in front of you, forcing your gaze to rest on him again. “No. No, I don’t. There has only ever been one girl that I loved, and it wasn’t Annie.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, all traces of anger gone along with Finnick’s. “Then who could it possibly be?”

Finnick almost smiles, that same half moon sliver that you keep seeing. “Isn’t it obvious? You.”

You jerk away as if he’s stabbed you. In a way, maybe he has. Finnick has your bloody, beating heart in his hand, and you’re not even sure if he is truly aware of it.

“What?”

Your voice comes out shaky, disbelieving. Finnick lifts a casual shoulder, although you notice that the rest of him is practically vibrating with nerves.

“You heard me. I love you, Y/N. Always have.”

You stare at him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Then why– you didn’t tell me– why would you be so mad about Annie dying?”

“Because she was my friend,” Finnick says simply, “and with her, I had a guarantee that she would stay my friend even after I told you how I felt. I didn’t know if you would forgive me if I said what I wanted to say. You made me promise that I wouldn’t change how we acted together, remember? Annie let me pretend that things could stay the same way forever.”

You nod slowly, almost unaware of what you’re doing. “I remember that promise. I only made you say it because I was afraid of losing you.”

Finnick reaches forward to take your hand. The brush of his fingers against yours startles you back to reality. “You’re not losing me, Y/N. I swear it. We both went through the Games, didn’t we? They can’t touch us anymore. We’re free.”

You hold your stare a second longer, then start to smile. “We’re free,” you repeat.

Finnick chuckles softly. “I missed that smile.”

You look at him, disbelieving and fully aware at the same moment, then lean forward and kiss him. You don’t think you’ve ever been able to really startle Finnick since the Reaping, but this just might do the trick.

After a moment, he recovers and kisses you back, harder than you expected. It makes you laugh against his lips, which is of course motivation for him to kiss you even more. In the end, the two of you break away through bruised lips and matching smiles.

Finnick is right, isn’t he? The two of you are free. The Capitol can try and pin you down all they want, but they can’t take this away, no matter how hard they try. Let them come for the two of you, you think. They won’t be able to do a thing.

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theirishwolfhound · 21 days

Text

AHoGiSoG- Chapter 2: Bruises and Bitemarks

Summary: With the day continuing on, Crow catches up on his schedule and finally opens up to his friends mostly. Long post ahead so settle in and enjoy!

Content Warnings (MDNI): pining masked as envy, homoerotic sparring but they're almost fully clothed, brief mention of needles Word Count: 16,758

Their mission was simple, a normal recon: get in, understand the landscape, and find their target before making a plan of attack. It was simple enough. They would be departing more than likely the next day. Price needed to remain at base just to make sure everything there ran smoothly. Gaz and Wolfhound would work together to scout the landscape, the latter would devise the best plan while the later found the vital points of land to work with. Soap and Ghost would be there as the countermeasures, just in case things were to go haywire or if someone got injured. They would be outfitted with two, small two-person tents and anything else they would need to manage until they got what they needed out of the mission.

They would be dropped off near Mount Konzhakovskiy Kamen in the more southern part of the Northern Ural. Then, they would have to make their way to Mount Telpos-Iz, closer towards the Nether-Polar Ural. Their lead had only spoken of the Eastern side of the Northern range so they would have to search the span of the area until they found what they were looking for. While it would help keep them from being detected and give them the best knowledge of the land, their mission could take at least fifteen days with their current conditions. Given their estimated timeframe, they were hoping that they would not have to hike the whole path.

To say that Crow was happy to go camping on a recon was an understatement—he loved the idea of the plan—though seemed to be the only one enthused about camping. That was just the ranger in him after all, he’d never be able to get rid of that part of him, but this is what made him a vital part of the mission. He knew much more about wilderness survival than the other operatives in that room, that was his specialty: surviving. His change of demeanor did not go unnoticed either, as the other men could practically see him buzz with faint excitement at the prospect of this mission. They knew that he would do the mission alone if he could, but even for him it was a bit taxing to do it alone. While it wasn’t his first mission with the Task Force, it was at least up his alley.

Johnny was a bit relieved that his friend seemed to be doing a bit better and seemed genuinely enthused about this mission. It would have been a first for him after all, while Crow never complained but his eyes never lit up in the same way they did now. He glanced towards Ghost, Kyle, and Price- all three of them seemingly relieved as well- then spoke happily.

“It’ll be a skoosh, we’ve got Irish here ta’ guide us.” He smiled at Crow and gave the man a nod before laughing.

“Grand,” Crow chuckled softly and shook his head playfully. “Means it’ll b’ on meh if it winds up a haymes.”

“Nae danger, ya’ cannae make a mess unless ya’ try too hard.” Johnny reassured him.

The Irishman huffed out a soft laugh. “Is been donkey’s years since I was a guide.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” Gaz chuckled then shrugged, just barely understanding what the two men had said. “And if not… Well, then that’s just how it works innit? Nothing goes to plan here, everything is bonkers.”

Crow crossed his arms over his chest and laughed softly before finally nodding in agreement so that the meeting could finish up. He sat back in his seat then focused on the screen that Price stood in front of, a faint smile remaining on his lips throughout the rest of the briefing. He kept his hands on his lap, holding them similarly to how he held Simon’s—to how he held Malakai’s—the simple thought of that caused his mind to drift faintly. It was nice, sure, but it was definitely something he wanted to keep between the both of them. Crow’s gaze remained unfocused, distant, until he felt a faint tap on his boot from under the table, which made him glance over to the man across from him.

Johnny had paid close attention to the Irishman during the meeting, he was worried for him after the interaction that morning so when he noticed his eyes grow a bit glassy he intervened. He watched Crow for a moment, his gaze kind and smile sweet, only to nod with relief when the other man nudged his foot back. The Scotsman’s smile never faltered as he turned back towards the projection of the map on the screen.

17:36

The meeting would go for about two hours, the team discussing their plan of action until they finally felt comfortable with it. A little too comfortable as Crow nearly fell asleep with his head on the back of his chair and arms over his chest, but he knew what his job was so no one woke him from his brief rest. Once they were finished, they left, continuing on with their afternoon. They had thirty minutes before the rest of the soldiers and the recruits would be finished with their scheduled activities.

The Irishman knew he needed to go get something to eat, so he suggested an early tea break for the five of them just so that he wouldn’t have to eat alone, to which they agreed. Price and Gaz led the way, happily chatting with one another while Ghost and Soap walked behind them, the latter chiming in to the conversation in front of him. Crow walked a few paces behind the four, observing just how close they were with one another. He used to watch them with envy when he first joined, missing the closeness he shared with Malakai and their old team, but now he watched them with fondness. They were the closest people he had to family now, and he was grateful for them, though he still had moments where he felt like he didn’t belong. It was nothing they did, in fact they had always made sure he was involved even if he had originally been less than approachable, it was just his own thoughts.

However, as he watched them, he noticed that Soap and Ghost turned their heads slightly to look back to him. He made brief eye contact with both of them before the Scottish man beckoned him to join them. For a second Crow did not know what to do, but he couldn’t help but smile and quicken his pace to walk between the two, lightly nudging the both of them.

“Shouldnae fall too far behind, freckles, dinnae want ‘hose eyes ta’ look lost wee cuilean’s,” Soap teased, clapping Wolfhound on the back gently once he had caught up.

“Oh eff off,” The redhead laughed softly and lightly slugged the man in the arm, who took notice of the faint red coloring now adorning the Irishman’s ears. “I’m nae a coileán, ya’ fool.”

“Bounded ova’ like one,” The Scotsman rebutted.

“Oi, be nice,” Price scolded sarcastically from the front as they walked, chuckling slightly as he listened to their bantering. While he could not understand the two at times, he could only tell that they were playfully antagonizing one another. “Both of you.”

“Aye, Scot, stop actin’ the maggot,” Crow quipped and gave the younger sergeant a taunting smile.

The two Celts playfully narrowed their eyes at one another before laughing with one another, as if they were two merry schoolyard children. Soap knew how to brighten Crow’s mood just by initiating a conversation that only he could really understand. He loved watching the way the Irishman’s eyes squinted when he laughed, and the way that his dimples formed on both cheeks. Johnny then glanced over to Simon, who had faint amusement in his eyes as the two of them laughed and bickered. He could tell the lieutenant had a faint smile on his face from the way his mask shifted.

They were cohesive, a bonded unit in the Scotsman’s eyes, and forming an unshakable bond with Crow, while being a tedious task, was slowly becoming a reality.

The five of them soon arrived at the mess hall, Ghost heading over to claim their table while the rest of them went to gather whatever they wished to have for evening tea. Price would return with a coffee and biscuits, Gaz with an orange and water, and Soap with a quick snack and water as well. It would take a few minutes for Crow to return, carrying a sandwich on a plate and a cup in his other hand, which he set in front of Simon before he had the chance to get up. The man had made him some tea as it had been a part of their compromise, though it did catch him off guard for a few seconds. As Crow sat down to start eating, Ghost let out an amused huff and pulled his balaclava up slightly like he had done at breakfast. He brought the cup up to his nose and took a few inhales before sighing and blowing on the tea so that he could take a sip.

Slowly, Ghost nodded and took a moment to relax, listening into the light chatter of Soap’s voice blending with Gaz’s as they joked to one another playfully. “Thank you.” There was a pause, then, while continuing to not look at Crow, he spoke again. “You’re feelin’ a wee bit better?”

“Aye… a wee bit, t’anks to ya…” The freckled man said sheepishly.

“No need for thanks, red,” Ghost said before sipping from his cup once again, closing his eyes thoughtfully before speaking soft enough for only Crow to hear, though the others did not seem to pay much mind to their conversation. “If you ever need to talk about anything, you know you can come to us.”

“Ah.. Aye, I know… speakin’ ‘bout what ails me is… difficult… is why I acted out earlier,” The Irishman replied before eating a little bit more. He hummed a little then spoke up once again. “...but I've been ‘ere fer ‘alf a year now… I trust the lot of ya’... so.. Maybe I will some time soon.”

“That’s good to hear, Wolfhound,” Ghost chuckled, now turning to listen in on the conversation that was being held between the other men.

Crow too would tune into their conversation, only to realize that they were sharing laughs about previous missions they all had been on or encounters they had had. John shared a memory from when he was still a Lieutenant back around 2009 where he had to deal with rowdy recruits, while Kyle joked about a relationship he had back in secondary school that wound up being more trouble than it was worth. On Johnny’s turn, he continued the trend of lightheartedness and began to boast happily about a memory from a football game back in secondary school.

“Right! So, it was a pretty shitty sunny day, we were tied and it had beena hell of a game already, got really dicey in some parts,” He mused using his hands to gesture a bit as he spoke happily, his voice beaming with pride. “Now I dinnea ken wha’ ye’ know about football, but this game was a bloody chess match. We played a buncha fancy school boys, wee bastards they were, gave us a tough time…”

The Irishman chuckled softly, watching the Scotsman speak and tell his tale, though he stopped listening fully. Rather, he focused on the way his voice sounded, enjoying the joy in his friend’s voice. It was warm and smooth, like scotch and nothing like the British men’s. Ghost’s stood out from Gaz’s and Price’s deep smooth ones, if he had to describe it he would be compared to a cinnamon whiskey. Yet all of them had pleasant voices, he could listen to both Johnny and Simon talk all day if they wanted to… which he knew Johnny would do given the chance. Mans just loved to talk, and the little lad just loved to listen.

Before he knew it Soap’s story was over, but he continued to stare unfocused with a faint reddish hue rising to his freckled face as he hummed softly. It took Kyle snapping his fingers in front of Crow’s face to finally drag him back down to Earth. “Cad?”

“Zonin’ out there, lad? Or are you just takin’ the piss, eh?” The older sergeant teased.

“Jus’ thinkin’,” Crow replied. “Hearin’ Johnny talk ‘bout football reminded me o’ a time when I was a scout back home.�� He hummed softly.

“Well now ye’ got ta’ talk about it,” Soap chuckled.

The Irishman shrugs, only to nod and laugh quietly. “I used ta’ teach kids how ta’ play kickball at te’ summer camp I worked at as a scout, b’fore I was a ranger… one spring when te’ pond still had ice, some lass kicked te’ ball onta the ice an’ I had ta’ fetch it.”

“I can only imagine that didn’t go well,” Price chuckled softly.

“It did not,” He snickered, lightly rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I crawled ta’ te’ middle of t’pond and get te’ ball… at te’ time I had ta’ weigh fifty-four kilos, so obviously te’ ice cracks under me. I wasn’ scared of fallin’ in, I was afraid of t’ese kiddos laughin’ at me,” Crow laughed. “Then… I had te’ brigh’ idea ta’ stand up fully… in te’ middle of te’ pond… so, eh, I fell in te’ ice cold water.”

“Did ye’ have to swim back to the bank?” Soap asked as he laughed, picturing a much younger Wolfhound’s predicament of retrieving the kickball. The other three chuckled, enthused by the show of humility, watching Crow’s face go from a more neutral expression to a more embarrassed one, his cheeks gaining more color to them.

“Nah, I climbed back onta the ice, I couldn’ swim in neck deep water,” He mused before shaking his head shamefully. “Crawled back on my belly ta’ shore.”

“And how did those kids react?” Ghost asked, a smirk showing on his exposed lips as he brought his cup up to his mouth.

“Some were worried, te’ others laughed t’eir arses off. My scout master t’ought I was a, uh, dosser… but te’ kids had my back for t’at at least. Told te’ ‘hole truth tey did… at my expense… but I was awake fer te’ rest of te’ day.”

The other men chuckled, though Soap’s was more like a laugh that drew a bit of attention from the soldiers that walked into the mess hall. It was lively, enjoyable even, enjoyable enough for Crow to finish eating so that they could continue talking. He wondered what it would have been like if he was in a much better mental space than he currently was. Would they have all been closer? He definitely knew that he would have been happier to be well knitted amongst the group rather than being the only one stitched in with elastic strings, seeing that he had the higher chance of stretching away from the rest of the group given one string breaking. But that was a thought for later, something he would add to the list of things he wanted to tell them, and something he’d bring up in his next therapy session. For now they would share more stories, except Ghost who only chimed in to back a few of the stories Soap told about the missions they’ve been on, but that didn’t disrupt the flow.

19:04

The rest of their break was spent together until Price and Gaz had to dismiss themselves to handle paperwork, leaving the other three men to find something to do until dinner. Normally Crow would have just gone back to his room and painted, but he knew he needed to make up the hours he spent napping. He took his dishes to the drop off then went to sit back down with Simon and Johnny, though now he was across from the both of them. He listened as they spoke—well, he listened to Soap talk anyways—and tried to figure out what he could do until dinner time. He could go train—hell, even go for a walk—but he wasn’t sure if the other two had plans. The Irishman watched them, only to lightly tap on the table in front of the other two.

“If ya’ two fellas aren’t busy… would ya’ want ta’ join me at ta’ gym?” He asked while cocking his head curiously.

“Sure! I dinnae s’why not,” Soap mused while standing up to take his snack plate and Ghost’s teacup to the dish drop off.

Once The Scotsman came back, the other two would stand up and the three of them would head out of the mess to go walk towards the gym. Soap made sure to keep Crow between himself and Ghost as they walked, happily chatting away as the other two listened to him speak. It was blissful in its own way, like it was the right thing to have happen. Though as Wolfhound walked with them, he began to finally notice what he had been walking behind for the past six or so months. Soap spoke with more passion and affection when it came to stories about himself and Ghost. Crow noticed it when Soap was simply talking around Ghost, as well as the subtle way the two drifted closer when walking next to one another. He saw the way that Johnny looked at Simon: the way his eyes lit up and maintained contact no matter where they were.

He blinked a little then furrowed his brows in slight thought. Was it love, admiration, or both? It was hard to tell, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of affection. From the stories he’d heard, the two were practically a package deal when it came to missions so they had plenty of time to form that kind of bond— hell even Price and Gaz were a duo. The way Johnny looked at Simon reminded him of how Malakai looked at him: a gentle fondness, or at least something close to it. He had overheard that the British man was more mellow than he was before the Scotsman joined 141, and Crow figured—now that he watched them closer than he had before—that it was Soap's doing. That’s when it dawned on him, or at least caused him to think a bit harder about what was going on between the two duos.

‘It would explain their late night meetings… if they were even work related in the first place,’ The Irishman thought to himself with a chuckle and a suspicious look crossing into his curious expression before he lightly nudged the Scottish man.

“...am bheil thu maille ri Simon?” He asked once he had his attention. What little Scottish Gaelic he knew was due to him having nothing better to do in a Ranger’s tower, and it always seemed to take Johnny off guard so that was a plus.

“Dè? Carson a tha thu a’ faighneachd??” The Scotsman asked in reply. Hell, his voice even went up in pitch, his eyes widening slightly as a faint flush of color rose to his cheeks.

“O’Neil, MacTavish…English for fucks sake.” Ghost said with a faintly amused, but mostly annoyed, huff.

“Sickner fer you,” The youngest replied, he didn’t need a proper answer from either of them, the look and way Soap’s voice sounded gave it so cleanly away. He had sounded the same when his old captain had clocked him for dating Malakai, but he never thought he’d get the chance to pull it on another man. Crow took a few long strides to walk in front of the two, turning quickly on his heel to lock eyes with Soap while moving backwards. He raised his brows teasingly then smiled a bit, nodding with faint approval. They were both good men and deserved someone just as good for one another, but now he also had something to tease the Scot with. He was glad to finally have something over both of the men now: even if they weren’t dating they were most definitely fucking. “Deagh roghainn.”

With that he flashed a cocky smile and turned away once again to head into the gym, leaving Johnny flabbergasted and Simon confused as to what was said. Though one look over to the Scottish sergeant and he could tell that he was embarrassed by the Irishman’s words. It was quite entertaining, and he knew Johnny would tell him what was said later. After a few moments the two would enter the gym as well, and make their way to join their red-haired friend who sat on the ground to begin stretching.

Soap said nothing, only giving Wolfhound a playful yet pointed glare. He was really only upset about being taken off guard like that. He could tell that the younger was entertained by it, and he knew he couldn’t let the Irsishman have the upper hand over him. It was a fun little challenge to the Scot—a playful rivalry of wit—but for now they had to warm up for training. Ghost would focus solely on stretching, not paying any mind to his companions, while Soap’s gray-blue eyes occasionally drifted over to the Irishman. Watching him bend and stretch with ease, it was a bit odd how nimble he was but he had to make up for his smaller stature somehow. He then realized that he was staring, and Simon had noticed, but how could he speak when Crow— while a bit easier to read than Simon— never let much of his personal life slip out, save for a few stories here and there, so he had no clue where to start.

“So… Wolfhound, what’s yer plan here? Need a spotter or so?”

“Bold of ye’ ta’ assume I lift t'at much,” Crow replied playfully, his attention briefly shifting over to Johnny. “I run, an’ do more yoga t'an anythin’.”

“Is that so, lad? No sparrin’ either?” Soap asked.

“Not as often, no. Te’ other boys like harder sparrin’... I prefer light… don’t like t’many bruises on me t’be honest… an’ I try not ta’ get put inna position where I could get hit in te’ face..”

He had to admit, while he never saw Crow as too much of a roughhousing type of man, it was still interesting to hear that he went for a lighter practice for that reason. His thoughts briefly went to when Crow had first joined: when the task force had tested him in a fight, he nearly kicked their asses up until Simon struck him in the face. Then again, it was a real fight, not practice, there was a difference— but by God did the lad know how to use a knife. Johnny hummed in thought, only to turn and lightly pop Simon on the shoulder to actively drag him into the conversation, even though it nearly earned him a swat upside the head from the Englishman. “What if we go first, yeah? Then wind down with a sesh with ya?”

“Kssh,” Crow's exaggerated inhale was quick to be followed by a playful eye roll. “Fine… but I’m gonna do other t’ings before sparrin’ ya’.”

He didn’t need much convincing. Though he already knew that he might lose any match with them. He was quick sure, but he hated hand-to-hand combat due to himself being thrown and bruised many times before. It was basically exposure therapy—something he and his therapist joked about—and was easy to handle when you trusted the people you were working on it with. That and he really needed to find more people to work out with, rather than doing so alone, at night, when he couldn't sleep.

Though despite trusting Simon and Johnny, Crow still hated being overpowered most times. It was a fact that lingered in his mind for years and years, even when he play fought with Malakai. Cisgendered men had a slight advantage over him, and he hated that he ended up liking it. He and his passed lover had managed to find a way around the discomfort by adding a sort of reward system to their sessions: turning them into more intimate moments with Crow’s lead. While his therapist would be proud of him for going out of his comfort zone, he did not want to risk the chance of acting out on instincts that he and Malakai instilled. He couldn’t back out of this, not without giving a reason, but he couldn’t admit that he had basically pavolved himself into getting turned on by sparring to avoid having panic attacks. However, he pushed those thoughts away into the deeper parts of his brain, and then moved to sit on the bench as he watched the other two stretch out and get ready for their sparring match.

Crow’s eyes danced over the way that their muscles flexed and moved with them, though he stopped himself and merely rubbed the bridge of his nose. Gender envy—at least that's what he thought it was—was a bitch-and-a-half to deal with considering most of the men around him had a body he wanted. By the time he looked back up at them, Simon had removed his jacket and remained in a shirt and pants while Johnny remained in his joggers. He wasn’t surprised by Ghost’s tattoo sleeve or any of the scars that littered either of their bodies, just as he wasn’t surprised that either of them held attraction to one another. Both of them were attractive men—to be fair the other operators were also just as attractive—it only made sense… at least in his mind it made sense. He would have made a move if he were either one of them, who wouldn’t.

When the two men got up to head towards the mats, the smaller man moved to head over to one of the treadmills within viewing distance. He would start his own exercise as the other two exchanged quips and jokes while beginning to circle one another. All was mostly quiet in the gym despite the comments that the older two exchanged and soon Crow would turn his attention to his own work out. Lightly jogging to the sounds of Soap’s taunts towards Ghost and his own thoughts about this predicament he’s agreed to put himself in. Pining for men who were out of his league, like an ant that wanted to be with a group of stars to form a constellation, while still mourning his passed lover, as if unrequited passion would help his emotional state.

Occasionally, the Irishman would glance over towards the two, watching Simon grapple Johnny and pin him to the mat. With the slight confirmation of their relationship, or situationship, Crow now noticed the sensual nature of how their hands ran over one another. He could almost remember the feeling of similar loving hands on his own person, holding him firmly but lovingly… He had to shake the thought out of his head before his mind wandered more, a faint flush of color rising to his cheeks as he began to run a bit faster on the treads to distract himself before ideas ran rampant in his mind. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think or do. He had spoken to Malakai before about death, since they were soldiers bound to die old or at war, and what to do if one of them had passed before the other. Both agreed that they would have wanted the other to move on, but the thought of that was hard enough to process when he was alive. How could he do it now?

He felt guilty for lusting after other men, but he couldn’t really help it. Whether it be the fact that he had to give himself his testosterone shot later that night and his body knew that, or that he hadn’t had any form of intimacy in over a year by that point. It wouldn’t have been that long had he and Malakai gone on their last mission together alone, but with a full team of people who were trained to listen to every little sound in their environment, it made it hard to share time in a tent. Maybe it was the grief toying with his emotions, making him want—making him lust—for that touch again.

He stumbled slightly as he lost focus, sucking in a breath as he reacted quickly. His hands quickly gripped the bars on the side of the equipment, as he hopped up and placed his feet on the sides of the belt. He managed to not get thrown off the treadmill and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Luckily for his ego no one had. Crow’s ears burned with embarrassment as he turned the speed back down to a fast walk. He did not want to risk slipping and being launched off the treadmill. It happened once; it was not fun, especially since he nearly took out his bad knee. He took his hands off the railing once he was back on the moving belt and then rubbed his neck slightly as he sighed. He wondered if his friends were happy together like he had been a year ago. He glanced back at the two, listening to Johnny’s laugh as he tried to wrestle Simon to the ground but fail as he got flipped and thrown into the mat. They definitely seemed happy and he was happy for them. It was nice to see and he was almost jealous of them—almost angry—but he knew that it was mostly the desire to have what he used to have.

Crow’s lips twitched into a faint grimace as he saw the way their eyes met and held a passionate emotion. He knew it was love and he couldn’t help but think selfishly to himself. Why couldn’t he have that still? Why couldn’t he still be happy?

It was an odd thought, he did not blame Simon or Johnny whatsoever, but it did make him question his beliefs. He knew the Lord worked in mysterious ways, but why did he have to suffer from the actions of other men? These thoughts were normal, at least that's what his therapist said. Selfish, you’re being selfish, you dumb hormonal bastard. Crow told himself as he redirected his gaze away from his friends, not wanting to show his distraught as it was no one else’s fault but his own. His emotions were conflicting and it confused him greatly, unsure if he should feel jealous over the two of them or excited that he was finally going to have hands on him once again. He needed to talk to his therapist about his flowering emotions since they had been budding for a while and he had only just acknowledged them, and about potentially getting a medication prescribed for his sleeping problems now that Simon was involved. However, it would have to wait until after the mission. For now he put a pin in it, shook his head as if to shake the stress away, then picked up his walk to start jogging, then light running, once again. The younger sergeant managed to finally zone out, his thoughts going quiet to his relief, enough to not realize that he let the men spar for longer than they all had expected. Though by now they both sported new bruises and faint aches from their training.

Simon had pinned Johnny to the mat, the blade of his arm just barely pressed into his throat as his other hand kept the Scot’s wrists above his head. Both of his legs kept the younger man’s lower half to the mat, practically straddling him. They stared at one another briefly, both a bit breathless from their session— though that didn’t stop Soap from smirking up to Ghost, who in turn narrowed his eyes in a playful manner. He pushed himself off of the sergeant then stood up to walk off the mat, watching Wolfhound run on the treadmill. Eyeing the shorter man’s legs then trailed up to his back, only to turn and look at Johnny with raised brows as if teasing him for staring earlier. The Englishman would then walk off the mat towards where their stuff had been set down.

“Oi, freckles, you’re up!” Ghost called as he plopped down onto their bench, finally breaking the redhead’s trance so that he could turn off the machine and hop off. It took a few seconds for him to come to a halt as he slowed the pace down until he came to a stop and all the while the lieutenant did not take his eyes off of him. He watched as the Irishman stalked silently over towards the water fountain to take deep sips, then back towards the mat where he left Soap laid out to catch his breath.

Johnny panted happily as he looked up to the smaller man when he slipped his shoes off to walk over to him—only to take Crow’s hand when he offered to help him onto his feet. He sprung onto his feet with the help and dusted himself off playfully, smiling widely to the younger man. “Light sparrin’, aye?”

“Aye, full speed but less power… no face hits, m’mouth guard is in my office.” Crow confirmed. He, unlike the other two, remained in his long sleeve shirt and camo pants since he felt more comfortable in them— and because he was worried how he’d react if either of them touched his bare skin.

“Right, if I hit ya too hard, hit back,” Soap warned playfully, flashing his signature smile to the other man—though seemed a bit taken aback when he only got a smirk from Crow, who’s pupils shifted to make it seem like he was either a dog on guard or a fox sizing up a larger animal. Frankly, both ways sent a faint shiver up the Scot’s spine and he couldn’t explain why but he merely laughed with excitement. “Ghost, ref us, yeah?”

“Scared, Johnny? Lad’s pint-sized,” Simon teased while sitting back a bit on the bench to watch the two a bit more closely at Soap’s request.

“Of Crow? No.” The Scotsman laughed, causing the other sergeant’s brow to raise slightly— sure Johnny wasn’t afraid, this was a game to him, but he wanted the other to watch.

All of the negative thoughts that he had earlier slowly pushing their way back into the forefront of his mind; the fear, the jealousy, the anger, the desire. His lips curved a little more before he forced a frown and he furrowed his brows, scanning over Johnny as the taller man smiled back to him. His eyes trailed over the Scot’s bare chest and stomach, watching as a few beads of sweat ran down his skin. God he’s such a bear, what I wouldn't give to— He quickly shook his head and returned his gaze to the other’s face, a faint rush of blood scorching through his body and to his pale face. He pulled his hands up and took a few steps back to let the other know that he was ready to begin whenever. While Soap noticed the change of demeanor, he did not want a repeat of that morning to happen, so he decided to not press the matter and mimicked Wolfhound’s pose— shifting his weight from leg to leg.

They watched one another for a brief moment, then shared a nod to initiate their match. Crow would begin to circle Johnny, his gaze locked onto the Scottish man with a rather wild look in his eyes. It was a bit unnerving, but it made the fight almost better. Almost immediately, the Scotsman would move in close to throw a quick jab with his fists, his arms and hands moving to try and fake the Irishman out. Though Crow was quick to duck under the man’s arms and gently jabbed him in the side, his strikes were quick and precise before he quickly backed away to put a bit of space between himself and Johnny—who took his place right back in Crow’s space. He is a nuisance on the field and in training, the younger thought with a chuckle. Simon has a lot to deal with outside of work.

When he managed to finally step away from the other man for a little bit of space, Crow felt John’s hands grab his wrists, pulling him down slightly and back in with a short huff of a laugh. The Irishman was quick to wrap his hand around the other man’s head after breaking his grip, lightly grabbing a fist-full of his mohawk to pull his head down enough to hook his arm under his jaw with a fluid motion— while the Scotsman’s arms wrapped around the smaller man, one under his arm and the other over his other shoulder. Soap spun slightly, pulling Wolfhound along with him, to unravel the grapple that he had been placed in and to pull the other man to his side while sliding one arm around his waist. Crow felt his feet leave the ground as Johnny lifted him onto his side and spun him forward, their chests flush with one another as he quickly moved his hand to try and wrap back around the older’s neck— shivering as he felt John’s other hand slide around his upper back. It was hard for Crow to try and find a grip around his friend, his legs flailing slightly as he tried to contort himself enough to wrap it around Johnny’s neck, all the while Johnny practically held Crow in a sideways hug, listening to the Irishman grunting and cursing under his breath.

Johnny could only laugh and soon took a knee so that he could press the middle of Crow’s back into his other leg and pushed down slightly, immediately earning a sharp grunt as the smaller man’s body stretched to alleviate the faint discomfort. He took advantage of Crow’s arched back to hook his arms under him in a better grip only to lose it as the other pushed up with one foot to roll his chest back into his. Crow slinked one of his arms over John’s shoulder and held himself up with his free hand and foot, his eyes closing briefly when he felt a hand on the back of his neck and waist. With a low groan, both due to the touch and the fact that the other sergeant’s thigh was now pressing into his ribs, Crow pulled Johnny down then rolled more, his chest now on the man’s thigh so that he could plant both feet back on the ground and push upwards with his back to make the other stand back up. Despite John’s hand on the back of his neck— which the same arm was also holding Crow’s shoulder in a lock— and his other arm keeping him in a close hold, Crow squatted down to grab the man’s ankle.

Though this motion gave the taller man the opportunity to finally slide both arms under the smaller’s arms and interlock his hands behind his neck, forcing him to let go of his leg to balance on his hands and knees while his head was pressed inward towards his own chest. He grunted at the feeling of Soap’s chest pressing to his upper back, a faint flush of warmth rising to his face, before he pushed his body up with his arms. As Wolfhound moved Soap loosened his head lock and laughed as he felt him wrap one of his legs around his own, only for the other one to join. The moment he had been lifted off the ground, Crow knew he was going to lose the match, since he knew that John would never let him get off the ground once he was back down— but to feel an arm wrap around his neck to prevent him from continuing his attempt at a grapple really solidified his loss.

He groaned a little louder and tried to pry the arm from around his neck only to pause for a moment, breathing heavily as the other remained bent at the waist to keep him in a headlock. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Crow finally submitted and tapped John’s leg, unraveling his legs from the other and taking a deep breath as his neck was released. The redheaded man turned to look up at the other, giving him a faint glare that was only met with a smirk.

“Bha thu airidh air sin.” The Scotsman teased, causing Crow’s ears and face to burn with faint embarrassment. Crow liked that a little too much to admit, but he was quick to hop back onto his feet, fixing his hair before turning back to John— who was still smirking.

“Again.”

The longer they sparred, the more they learned a little something about one another: Crow learned that Johnny annoyingly wanted to throw him off guard, and Johnny learned that Crow was very foxy. It was almost like a dance between the two of them, the pair always close together due to the older’s persistence—which got rather overwhelming in a good way to the red-haired man after the first match. He felt his breathing hitch slightly and he knew he was going to need an out soon before he did something stupid, but he wasn’t going to let the other win easily. With a quick thought, Crow closed the distance fully between them, their bodies flush with one another, and wrapped one of his legs around the back of Johnny’s to try and yank it out from under him despite a familiar little rush of heat beginning to seep into his blood.

It was a good attempt, considering the Scot wavered on his feet, but it wasn’t enough and opened himself up for a shot at a takedown. Johnny was quick to seize the opportunity, quickly reaching down to grab the leg that supported most of Crow’s weight and yanked it out from under him. The quick counter took the Irishman by surprise and he let out a yelp as he was tossed backwards onto the mat, though before he could recover he felt the other man’s foot press lightly into his stomach. His gaze was quick to shift up to meet the other’s and he grimaced at Johnny’s smug smile— as erotic this position would have been, he was going to wipe that damned smile off his face. He slid his hands around the other’s leg, hooking one around the back of his ankle while the blade of his other arm drove into the man’s shin just below the knee. With a calming breath, he flexed his core and rotated his hold, pushing the blade of his arm through Johnny’s leg as if it wasn’t there. For an added kick, Crow kicked one of his legs up to wrap around the thigh of the leg that was pinning him, hooking his heel into the other’s hip. In one fluid motion, the Irishman sent Johnny into the ground, using his own momentum to spring up to his feet, ready for any retaliation that followed. He stared down at Soap, who now lay flat on his back breathing heavily as he tried to regain the air that had been knocked out of his lungs—a look of surprise on his face.

Johnny was never going to hear the end of this from either Simon or Crow, but he should have kept his guard up and he knew that because Crow was a slippery little bastard. He lifted his head up to look at the red-haired man, eyes drifting over Wolfhound’s face then and to his scarred lips that tugged into a faint smile, then grunted as he laid back fully once again. The Scotsman glanced over to Ghost’s position, he could tell by the way his eyes gleamed that the Lieutenant was amused at his take down— but in all honesty it was worth it, as Crow’s determined gaze and pleased smile made a faint warmth spread through his chest. He wasn’t afraid to admit when he found people attractive and Crow was one of them, but it was mostly due to his attitude rather than his looks— he was cute, and Johnny liked his men quiet as they had the most interesting personalities when alone, but he wasn’t sure if the younger wanted to hear that. Crow never took compliments well, seeing that he normally told whoever gave him one to: “Feck off, stop being sappy.”

The Irishman gave Johnny a few more moments before finally offering him a hand up off the ground, helping the Scottish man off the ground once their hands locked with one another's. Once Johnny was off the ground, Crow lightly patted his shoulder and gave him a faint smile. "Sorry, mohawk... didn't want ta' lose twice t'day." He chuckled softly.

"Dinnae apologize, red, it was fun." He laughed and lightly patted the other's shoulder. "I think I need ta' rest before going at it again wit' ya'... my leg still feels a bit weird."

"Winded, MacTavish?" Simon asked, his rough voice holding a teasing nature— only for him to grunt as he stood up so he could approach the younger men. "Good form, O'Neil, the only problem is that you got yourself in that position in the first place." He scolded lightly, which caused the Irishman to groan and wave him off slightly.

"Aye, ya' try ta' take out a brick wall ov'a Scottish bastard when yer m'size." Crow sassed slightly, his hand patting Johnny's upper back when the Scot headed towards the bench. "B'sides I was too close ta' him fer it ta' work."

"Too close or too unsure?" The lieutenant asked, quirking a brow as he stepped fully onto the mat and over to the sergeant— closing the distance to be as close as the sergeants had been. "With more confidence you'd be able to do it." He said before quickly using his foot to sweep one of Crow's ankles out from under him, then moved in to fully send him to the ground with a hard shove.

The Irishman was taken aback, a short grunt of surprise slipping past his lips as his balance was almost immediately yanked from him— though now he felt how Johnny, who now laughed, felt as he himself was winded the moment his back hit the mat. He blinked then quickly sprung to his feet, narrowing his eyes at Ghost in bewilderment, a twinge of red coloring his cheeks. "Oi! I wasn' ready!"

"Hostiles won't wait for you to be ready, freckles." The older man countered.

Crow stared at Simon, his expression going from shock to faint annoyance before he rolled his eyes and brought his hands up. He couldn't risk getting caught off guard again, even though part of him knew it wouldn't really matter. Ghost has more combat experience, and he's more of a nuisance than Soap, Crow grumbled softly to himself and crouched slightly as the lieutenant began to stalk around him. It was rather clear to the Irishman that he was not sparring a friend, like he was with the Scotsman, rather he was training with his lieutenant, Ghost not Simon. This was not a light sparring match, judging by how hard he had been sent into the ground, it was more like a test and he could only assume he was actually going to get hit.

Was it more nerve-wracking to spar Ghost than Soap? Absolutely, one had easily readable facial ques while one fucking stared into your soul— which was rather disconcerting and made it hard for Crow to focus for more reasons than one. He shuffled on his feet and kept his attention on the larger man's movements trying to not to look him in the eyes. Unlike the previous match, where it was more close and involved, this one was cautious and calculated.

While he never sought a match out willingly, he only sparred when he had to or when it was for a demonstration, he could see why he should start doing so more often— specifically with the masked man since he was far less predictable for him than the Scot. The two continued to move slowly, until finally Ghost quickly stepped in and took a swing at Wolfhound. He brought his arm up to block the hit, which stung a bit, and reared back to strike the man in the ribs.

The lieutenant would take a quick step to the side and quickly grab the sergeant's arm with both hands to twist it into an awkward position behind his back, which made the smaller man groan slightly as his body turned to avoid any harm done to his shoulder. He then spun Crow more to work on driving him into the mat below, forcing his knees to buckle and his body to drop. He let out an audible growl of annoyance as he was pressed down into the mat with Ghost's weight on him. While it wasn't the worst position he's been in, it was the more humbling one, and he did not want to be in it any longer than he needed to. The Irishman’s upper torso and head were forced down into the mat— which his head was less so since the older man did not wish to apply too much pressure on his upper jaw— as Ghost pressed against his back, leaning over him just enough to keep him from squirming too much.

"Come on, red, how would you get out of this on the field?" Ghost asked him with a faint mocking tone, and pressed his arm further into his back— earning a low groan from the smaller man as he bent in a little more to relieve the pressure on his back.

“Is fuath liom tú. Is fuath liom é sin. Is dick tú.” He hissed back and used the one hand that he had free to pat the mat. "I wouldn't even be in t'is position on ta' field."

Watching him surrender, Ghost let go and pulled off of him— letting him lay on the mat for a few seconds before grabbing the back of his shirt to pull him off the ground. "You don't know that for sure, Crow." He warned lightly, watching the other squirm a bit before he set him down on his feet.

"I will make sure," The Irishman huffed while pulling his shirt down to tuck it back into the waistband of his pants, only to turn and lightly smack the taller man in the shoulder. “Bawlbag.”

The lieutenant narrowed his gaze slightly at the taunt then took a few steps towards the sergeant, who would step away to keep a bit of distance between them— the man’s hazel eyes following the other as he worked on staying away from Simon. Crow glanced over to the other man, his gaze holding a more taunting expression as he did his best to avoid being put into another grapple. He crouched slightly and watched Ghost intently, waiting for his next move before letting out a low huff. The moment the taller man moved in to strike he would duck under his arm and then pulled his fist back to strike him in the sternum, earning a low grunt from Ghost. He slid past him to get behind the older man and turned to face him once again— only he turned his body in time to feel the other’s hand on the back of his head.

He reached up to push the other’s hand off while his head was forced downwards, though was soon surprised by Ghost dropping his level to spring forward and wrap his arms around his waist. The lieutenant slid his arms down slightly, now holding closer to Crow’s thighs, while remaining on his knees not even seeming to mind that the Irishman wrapped one of his arms around his neck while his other one went between their bodies to try and dislodge the hold. With a fluid motion, Ghost lifted them both up and hooked his right leg around the back of Crow’s left and pulled back while his front pushed forward— sending the both of them to the ground, with the smaller man’s back being pressed onto the mat. He kept the sergeant pinned to the mat with his weight and hold while the other briefly struggled and used his two most free limbs, his right arm and leg, to try and free himself.

Crow paused for a moment, eyes widened as he finally felt a faint fuzziness he hadn’t in a while, which for a moment he enjoyed. The rush of adrenaline and endorphins took him a bit by surprise, though he was quick to spring back in action and pressed himself up against Simon to fight back. It was a sudden burst of strength that nearly took the British lieutenant by surprise, and had he not originally stabilized himself after pinning the sergeant he would have been thrown off balance. Low grunts and almost guttural growls sounded from the redheaded man, earning a confused glance from Johnny as he stood up and walked onto the mat to see what was happening. The Irishman’s struggle continued until he finally cocked his head slightly and sank his teeth into the Englishman’s right upper shoulder blade— the stimuli from the previous matches finally catching up to him. It was a hard and firm bite, one that was used to pinch the taller’s skin and shirt that was worn and hold him still. His action earned a faint grunt of pained confusion before Ghost shifted his weight off Wolfhound enough to grab near his lower jaw and roughly press his head into the mat. They both stared at one another, Crow’s eyes filled with what he could only describe as a glare while Simon’s held some sort of bewilderment— though he soon narrowed his gaze and raised his brows, giving the younger’s jaw a firm squeeze.

No one said anything, not even Soap who watched Ghost hold Wolfhound down as if he was correcting a dog for biting. Hell he even curled his lips like one, which stunned the two older men. They were both still until the youngest’s foot caught the lieutenant’s waist to try and kick him off— which was an awkward and straining angle for him to put his leg in. His teeth remained bared in a snarl despite the hand that pressed into the soft space between his jaws, a low growl like sound reverberating from his chest as he worked on kicking the larger man off. While it was often that he held up to his codename when it came to the rest of the 141, but mostly when it involved him being calm and gentle— he never really acted like this before, not even on the field, and it made the two wonder just where this part of him had been hiding.

Ghost grunted as Wolfhound’s heel dug into his waist more but did not relent, he was going to wait until the other got him off or gave in again. He felt the man strain more under him, though he wasn’t expecting to see that Crow’s glare had grown glassy. As if he were not fully there. It threw him off for a moment, relaxing his hold a bit— though the lax grip on his jaw allowed for Crow to quickly bite down on his hand and press his heel further up, now into Simon’s abdomen.

“Oi!” The lieutenant hissed, yanking his hand back before sitting up slightly to grab the sergeant's ankle to pull his heel away from his stomach. He yanked his leg up and forced his body back down so that he could stop the younger’s struggling. “I don’t know how you were trained before you came here— but we don’t fuckin' bite during training, you’re not in any danger enough to take off my damn skin.”

Crow stared at Ghost for a few moments, his breathing harsh from his struggle before he tried to pull on his legs, one of which was still pinned under the larger man and the other held off the ground. The way he was scolded seemed to bring him back to reality for a few moments, his snarl turning into a faint smirk while heat rushed to his face. He let out a nervous laugh, and then cleared his throat a bit. “Ah… If I had brains I’d be dangerous, tas on me— sorry leifteanant.” He said a bit breathlessly. “I… uh, spaced out, tas all… forgot where I was.”

Simon reached down and flicked Crow in the forehead, earning a sharp whine, before tossing his leg to the side and standing up. They both watched as the Irishman rolled to the side and pushed himself up from the ground to stand up and look at them sheepishly.

“Jaysus, Wolfhound— dinnae take ya’ fer a biter.” Soap mused. While his comment earned a side eye from Ghost, it did seem to make the Irishman's ears burn with faint color.

“Definitely left a bruise for sure.” The Englishman huffed and rotated his right shoulder to try and ease the dull ache in his arm.

“I'm sorry.” Crow reiterated, he was — mostly—sincere and briefly looked up to give Simon an apologetic glance. The way his eyes softened mixed with the way that his brows raised with worry made his pout look like a guilty puppy. Whether he did this out of genuine regret or to get off with just a faint scolding neither of the other two knew.

“Right… well.” The older sighed and moved to pinch his brow a bit, turning his head away from Crow briefly— he couldn’t even look at Soap when he gave him the puppy eyes, Crow’s were somehow more effective. “...don't do it again.” He huffed— going with the idea that the Irishman did only act out of stupidity. While Ghost did not understand the reason for being bitten, he could only assume he’d find out eventually. “Else you'll lose some of your damn teeth, hound.”

“Aye. Aye, I understand.” Crow replied with a huffy chuckle and rubbed his arms lightly. “...sorry, sir.”

“Dinnae worry about Ghost, freckles.” Soap reassured, walking over to the two so that he could wrap an arm around Crow’s shoulder. “He's been through worse than a bite.”

The cheeky smile that Johnny gave earned a groan from Simon, though the two shared a chuckle— all the while, Crow looked between them, knowing exactly what he meant. His embarrassment slowly melted away as the two reassured him, somewhat at least as they were now laughing about it, but he still seemed flustered. He definitely owed Simon an answer, but that was a conversation for later— he did not have the mental spoons to give those answers yet. He flinched slightly when the Englishman raised his hand, though grunted as he only gave his forehead a light smack with his palm. ‘Probably payback, or a warning,’ Crow thought. Subconsciously he leaned into the Scotsman and sighed a little, finding a faint comfort in the company of them both. He barely pulled away when he felt Soap's hand tighten on his shoulder, snuggly holding him to his side.

“I t'ink I need a smoke.” Crow sighed softly and laughed a little bit. “...we still ‘ave almost a whole hour b'fore dinner an’ I don't wanna go back without one...”

“We can join if ya’ want, freckles.” Soap offered with a smile, only for Crow to nod a little bit.

“...aye, it would be nice… we can swing by my office fer my smokes.” He then lightly pulled himself out of Johnny’s arm, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder before heading to the edge of the mat to slip his shoes on. The Scotsman would walk over to the Englishman, lifting the sleeve of his shirt to inspect the bite mark on his shoulder, wincing slightly at the bright red mark. He looked to Simon, raising his brows before whistling and walking away to pull his shirt on— tossing the taller man his jacket in the process. He knew that there was going to be a nasty bruise there just because of how red the original mark was, but now he knew what he could tease Crow with if he taunted him after this. The two of them made their way off the mat and slipped into their trainers, sharing a brief look between one another.

Soap turned his gaze to Wolfhound, who waited patiently for the two of them only to turn and lead the way out of the gym towards his office. It was an awkwardly quiet walk, as the Irishman kept his distance until the other two caught up when they made the brief stop at his office. They watched him walk in to grab a lighter and a pack of his cigarettes before exiting the room and locking it once again so that they could head out towards the nearest smoking area.

20:02

This time their walk wasn’t as awkward, seeing as the three walked together and actually made some small conversation. It wouldn’t take long before they reached one of the few areas away from the base’s entrance, the three of them sitting on one of the benches. By then the sun had already sank into the horizon and the air was a bit crisp, but it was still a pleasant evening. Johnny sat in the middle of the other two, watching as Crow opened his pack of smokes to offer him and Simon one.

“Didn’t think you smoked Sovereigns, Crow.” Simon mused as he took one from the pack. “Thought you for a vape guy.”

“I like m’air tarred or clean, not fruity— t’ank you.” The Irishman replied holding his lighter to the paper so that he could light it, then passed the lighter to Soap and Ghost.

With that they shared a brief laugh and went silent, enjoying the night air while they smoked. It was genuinely enjoyable, the occasional scuffle of Crow’s shoes or a faint mumble from Johnny would break up the silence just enough to keep it from turning sour, and just what they needed. None of them would speak until their cigarettes were almost fully smoked.

“So… Irish.” Soap started turning his head to look at the smaller man with a playful smile.

“Oh no.” Crow sighed with a soft chuckle.

“If ya’ had to pick a sport… what would it be?”

The younger man hummed a little then tapped the filter of his cigarette to his lips, having to think relatively hard about what he would pick over the other. “...uh… televised sport wise… rugby...” He replied.

“Rugby, eh? Why that one an’ not football?” Johnny asked.

“...’ave ya’ seen te’ boys t’at play rugby?” Crow replied— he remembered Malakai's only reason to watch the sport was to watch the men as well, he himself also did not understand what the game was about. “Mmm… fine.”

The two laughed, while the Irishman’s ears and cheeks reddened slightly. He felt a little more comfortable making jokes like that now that he knew the other two were at least bisexual, or some other form of queer. It was nice to know he wasn't the only, mostly, gay man in the 141, though he knew there was a chance that some of the other soldiers were as well. Crow took a drag out of his cigarette before puffing the smoke out of his nose, thinking before laughing softly.

“I ‘aven't watched a game inna while t'ough.” He shrugged, leaning back to press his shoulders into the backrest of the bench. “So maybe t'ey aren't as fine as t'ey used ta’ be… straight men blessed wit fat fuckin’ asses… unfair to all te’ gay lads, but at least te lassies get ta’ ‘ave em.”

His bluntness managed to get an audible laugh from Ghost, well more like an amused snort, while sending Soap into a howling laugh.

“Where did that come from, O'Neil?” The Englishman asked as he shook his head slightly, chuckling softly as the Scotsman's laugh died down to a snicker.

“What else are ya’ holding back from us, freckles?” Soap asked.

“Ah, te’ closet, obviously.” Wolfhound answered first then rolled his eyes a bit, earning another brief chuckle. “A lot, uhm, actually… but… I'll tell ya’ a bit. Like how I used ta’ be a real rager at te’ pubs back when I was on t’Watchdogs.”

“Yer old squad, yeah?” The Scotsman asked and to which Crow nodded, taking a much longer drag of his cigarette to finish it off. He held the smoke in his lungs as he leaned forward to snuff out the cherry and think for a moment.

As he finally exhaled through his nose he coughed a little laugh and turned to the other two giving them a look of amusement then shook his head as he stood up. “Teres a lot… tat I want ta’ tell you boys… I’m.. just worried is all.” He admitted with a small smile.

“Worried? Of what?”

“Reactions.”

The answer was a little confusing, too vague to make any real guesses as to what he was talking about, but they did not press, at least not now. To them Crow was just a more personal kind of man, someone who liked to be alone or quiet since today was the most he had spoken— at least about non-work related topics— in the past week. But Crow knew it was a good sign of healing and trust that he could finally show.

Simon and John would take a few more moments to finish their own cigarettes before finally deciding to press the matter.

“Are… ya’ worried about a negative reaction to the things you want to tell us?” The Englishman would ask, sitting back on the bench with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Only on some.” The Irishman replied and moved to stand up from the bench to stretch his legs.

“Go on, tell us one thing, red.” John mused, looking at Crow with a smile. “Dinnae have ta’ be a big thing… just a thing, y’know?”

Crow looked at John, his eyes moving from the other’s smile to his eyes then over to Simon before he sighed a little. He gave a small nod then ran his tongue along his teeth while he thought. It was a hard decision, his mind having gone blank the moment he agreed to give out one detail about himself. He really didn't have much to choose from… either a few things that he isn't bothered by or a lot of things he hated telling people.

With a shrug he laughed a little then turned to face them with a small smile. “Here, t'is one is'a good one.” He mused. “...I'm covered in tattoos.”

“Well ya’ cannae just keep ‘em hidden after sayin’ that.” Soap said teasingly while Ghost raised a brow, then with a motion of his hand ushered Wolfhound to continue. “Else I’ll say yer bluffin’.”

Crow scoffed, rolled his eyes, then pulled his shirt out of his pants before pulling it over his head— opening his arms as if to say ‘see’ then laughed a little as he noticed Soap’s shocked expression. “I like gettin’ ink. Feels amazin’.” The smaller man said as he walked forward to them, letting the two look over his nearly fully covered torso and arms, only to turn and show them the expansive back piece he had. The flora and fauna seemed relatively specific to the man. Deer, butterflies, centipedes, wolves, and birds… carnations, marigolds, ivy, and trees… they just somehow suited him. John eagerly reached forward, grabbing one of Crow’s wrists to look at one of the symmetrical, forest half sleeves— turning his arm to examine it before looking back to the other tattoos.

“Jaysus… I’m jealous.” He laughed and lightly poked the smaller man in the gut. “I needta get more ink..”

“I recommend my artist… lass tells me ta’ draw an idea then runs wit it.” Crow chuckled then gestured to his chest piece. “This one hurt te’ most… tattooed ova’ my nips and some scars… don’t recommend that.” He laughed, though his words caused the Scottish to look back to his chest curiously, he was so focused on the other Celt’s reaction he didn’t notice the way the Brit’s eyes examined his left arm. On each upper arm, just below his shoulders, were more contained tattoos— on his right arm was a wolf and two crows, or ravens, in a mountain covered crescent moon, while his left had a masked feminine head with snakes for hair in a crescent moon of pomegranates.

He wasn’t stupid when it came to tattoos, Simon had his own tattoos with meanings special to him, and for Crow to have so many without any of them having meaning— it was highly unlikely they had no meaning, but he’d heard stories that it was for empowerment and survival. The Scot raised his eyes to the Irish sergeant’s then over to his chest piece as he spoke about it, sure enough he could see what he meant. The symmetrical centipede tattoos followed the curve of his pectorals, large enough for the legs and body to span close to his sternum and down his ribs. Just under the tattoos were faint, but thick, scarring and it confused them. It was not often people just had incisions like that and were still able to join the military, since transplants could impact their ability to perform.

But then it sort of clicked, causing the sergeant to look back up to Crow’s face with a little bit of questioning, while the lieutenant seemed to not be surprised. Simon had seen Crow’s medical and personal file, he just knew better than to out someone. It would have been like someone yanking off his mask without his consent— he might not have cared but it definitely wasn’t kosher. But Crow was unbothered, he did not mind his body and was rather proud of it, he was just more comfortable in less revealing clothes. They just would have never seen the scars had he not mentioned them.

“So you’re—” Soap started.

“Oh yeh, told ya’ I had a lotta secrets.” Crow chuckled, moving to pull his shirt back on then shook his hair out a little.

“...neva would’ve known.” John mused while the Irishman laughed.

“Aye, well ya’ just don’t go tellin’ people ye’ weren’t, uh, born in te’ body you want… I needed ta’ make sure te’ rest ov’ya weren’t gonna freak out.” He said then waved his hands a bit dismissively. “But… in te’ time I’ve been ‘ere… you lads an’ te’ rest ov’ 141 proved trustworthy.”

It was a fair reasoning, and they couldn’t argue with that. He had the right to be cautious, times were not so kind even in the year 2022, but they couldn’t deny that it looked like the admission lifted a faint weight from his shoulders— and to hear that he had trust in them and the team made the wait feel a bit worth it. John looked over to Simon for a few moments then nodded, glancing back to Crow with a smile. “Thanks fer tellin’ us, freckles.”

“It was gonna be found out one day.” Crow shrugged and tucked his shirt back into his pants. “Rather it b’on my own terms t’an any ot’er option..”

The Scot nodded then smiled teasingly, his eyes flicking down to the faint outline of the man’s packer, opening his mouth to ask a question before the Irishman held up a finger and pointed at him in warning.

“Don’t ask, I know ta’t look.” He replied and rolled his eyes, only to laugh and shake his head. “It isn’ real, don’t ask t’at to any trans person yeh? It’s not nice.”

“Yes, sergeant.” John replied playfully while Simon merely shook his head and chuckled.

“Glad you got that off your chest, yeah.” Ghost said then shrugged a little. “Along with other things.”

Wolfhound slowly turned his head to look at the man in slight disbelief then swiped his tongue over his teeth as he tried to keep himself from even looking amused by the joke, compared to Soap who laughed. “Yep.” He said as dryly as he could, but couldn’t help but laugh slightly while he smiled. How could he not be amused by that— why didn’t he think of that.

“Shut up. God. Stupid joke.” The smaller man said, finally beginning to chuckle softly, rolling his eyes. The Englishman could only chuckle softly and watch as the Irishman fought his amusement. He took a few more moments, trying to compose himself before gesturing to the building. “Let’s go eat, I’m sick of yer shite.”

20:56

That went a lot better than Crow ever thought it would, he honestly thought it would have been more awkward than that— but here he was walking alongside his friends towards the mess hall, nothing had changed like he thought it would. To say he was relieved was an understatement, it felt like the majority of the weight he had been carrying had finally been lifted. His steps felt lighter and he didn’t feel like his mind was clouded in a fog as much anymore. To know that almost every person he confided in about himself found nothing wrong with him was relieving— though he felt a bit childish keeping things locked down for as long as he did. He put trust in these men nearly half a year ago, and he just now trusted them enough to start coming out of his shell. But he was fairly certain that they did not blame him, and he knew that if he told his whole truth there would be even more understanding as to why he never opened up. Additionally, there hadn’t really been a good time to speak about himself, since he was mostly silent when he first joined their ranks due to his personal problems and the missions going on. There was so much happening between all of the commotion with other minor missions and threats that he decided to wait until some time had passed.

In reality, he just made no effort to be openly friendly up until early April, around his third month in the group, but shit happens almost every day for this group so it was just a longer process than he originally thought. Seeing how Laswell had requested Ghost’s time around two weeks ago to assist in the assassination of the Quds Force General, Ghorbrani. Shit just happens. Yet, here they were, acting like they had been friends before and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The walk to the cafeteria was relatively quick, the three of them arriving alongside some of the other soldiers, only to head to their normal table and sit down. Crow relaxed back in his seat for a few minutes, watching as Johnny and Simon went to go grab their dinner, making a plan on how to explain about what happened earlier— wanting to apologize for his outburst, since he shouldn’t have snapped on his team the way he did. He continued to stare off in thought until he felt a hand brush his shoulder, a comforting pat drawing his attention to the person behind him. Though when he turned no one was there, until he heard a snort from his other side.

Kyle snickered softly as Crow finally turned to look at him, watching as the younger man glared playfully at him. “Gotta keep those eyes open, O’Neil, don’t want you gettin’ hurt on our mission.” The man teased while the younger scoffed.

“Garrick, don’t be rude.” Crow laughed, slugging the other in the shoulder playfully before rolling his eyes and laughing softly with the other sergeant. Though slowly, his laugh died down to a quiet chuckle. It… finally felt right, something felt right and Crow just couldn’t really place a finger on it. It felt similar to a warm welcome, the one he had originally pushed away when he had first joined. It was vastly different from how he felt when he was comfortable with his therapist, it was more… genuine. Acceptance, maybe. All he knew was that he had a revelation— that these men, the ones he could trust his life with, could also be trusted with himself. Sure it took half a year, and a few extra online therapy sessions, but maybe he could just start trying to let the others finally, especially now that he’s having the odd thought about them every once in a while.

“You okay, Crowley?” Kyle asked gently, a small smile on his face.

He hadn’t noticed that he had zoned out, until Gaz got his attention.

“T’at’s a new name, hmhm..” He teased while shaking his head slightly before lightly slugging the other in the arm. “Yeh, I’m fine… jus’ tryin’ to t’ink about what I need ta tell you lads.”

To say that dinner was a rather new experience for all of them was an understatement, Wolfhound was quite the character under the front he presented normally. He had brought up what happened that morning, apologizing to his friends for taking out his emotions on them before telling them a little bit on what had happened before he had transferred to the Task Force. The news was received about as well as Simon had taken it— though Johnny and Kyle seemed a little concerned with the news about Crow’s deceased lover, mostly for their friend’s mental state. Price on the other hand was mostly thankful that Crow promised to get better at taking care of himself for any future mission’s sake, and for his own sake. Yet telling Kyle that he was transgender went swimmingly, with the older man going ‘Oh, I could’ve guessed.’ which earned a blank stare from the youngest. Though now, Crow felt… better.

Better was the only way he could describe it, as it wasn’t much different than how things had been before, but at least it wasn’t worse. Originally he had been scared of some sort of backlash, though when he had told Price, before joining up with the Task Force, about his identity he was told that there would be no problems with who he was. His therapist was right, the man was normally right, and months of online counseling had helped him get to this point. He really owed that man some sort of gift for putting up with him. Though it could have been so much worse, and he knew that, though here he was… enjoying his time with his team— his friends— as they ate dinner and spoke on other things. It was like there was a brief lapse in his grief, allowing him to smile a bit more than he would normally. He felt warm and giddy but it could only last so long as he began to reminisce. He hadn’t noticed just how much he needed this, how he needed friends to be himself around.

He grew quiet, his eyes flicking down to the table as he let the voices around him become nothing but white noise while his thoughts began to play memories of his previous team. It was this sort of down time that he missed with the Watchdogs. Where he and Malakai would always enjoy the time they spent with their team, cuddling up to one another as the other three bickered and joked during dinner. Like when Collie, their medic, threatened Rottweiler, their fresh sergeant, to not pull any shrapnel from whatever wounds he was bound to get because he had glued googly eyes to the things in her room when she was out. Or when Malinois, their corporal, forgot he had unscrewed the lid to the salt shaker and completely ruined his food that night— though he still ate it with the most disgusted face Wolfhound had ever seen on a man.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he looked to his friends who had quieted down when he began to stare off. He gently placed one of his hands over the one on his shoulder, looking to his right only to meet Johnny’s somewhat worried gaze. Crow gave the man’s hand a squeeze then smiled a little, his hand lingering on the top of Soap’s to finally return the affection that had always been given to him.

“I’m okay.” He breathed out and sighed softly. “I’m jus’... rememberin’ my old team… old times. You lads remind me of ‘em…” Crow smiled then lightly looked between his comrades and friends before nodding slowly. “..Malakai would’ve loved you all… ‘bout as much as I do.” His voice was soft and he hadn’t even noticed that he was close to tears at the moment, though the smile on his face was the most genuine one the group had ever seen. Most of his smiles had been little, and brief, but this one was one that allowed the small gap between his front teeth to show— one that tugged on his face enough for the slight indents of his dimples to be seen, one that slightly hurt and caused a dull ache in his plated jaw. He sighed happily then let go of Soap’s hand, shaking his head slightly before lightly laughing, rubbing his eyes slightly.

“That’s pretty gay, red.” Gaz’s teasing reply only caused Wolfhound to laugh a little more, thankful for the lift in the conversation.

“So am I.” He mused, earning a laugh from his friends, sitting back in his chair with a happy sigh. “When we get, eh, te time… we should go to a pub… I owe ye lads a pint or two alongside some stories. Jus’ fer putin’ up wit me.”

21:45

By the end of the meal, the men were winding down with cups of tea— or in Crow’s sake a cup of bitter juice— and casually conversing with one another. They were winding down for the night, some of the other soldiers having already gotten up to go to their bunks or to the common room while the operators remained at their table. Their conversation was light and enjoyable, a perfect way to end the day especially after all of the revelations and mixed emotions from earlier. Though now Crow was intently watching the way the other men interacted with one another, trying to see if his earlier suspicions were correct. Low and behold he picked out the subtle hints of how the two duos interacted with one another— then saw how they mingled with the other duo. The way they looked at one another, the way they smiled… it would have been obvious beforehand had he actually spent the time to put thought into it rather than thinking they were all just friends.

Late night meetings my ass, they’re so fucking. The ginger thought to himself and let out a chuckle when the others laughed at something Johnny said. No doubt about it, given all the flirting and teasing over the coms… He let his eyes linger on the four of them then shifted in his chair a bit so that he could lean on the table lightly. A slowly pooling warmth made his legs close and adjust the way he sat so that he could try and focus on the conversation, though the longer he took in their features the more he realized that he was acting like a bitch in heat. He bit his inner cheek and bounced his leg slightly as he closed his eyes. A Scottish bear, a pretty otter, a daddy of a captain and a mysterious hot mess. Lovely crowd, truly. Crow shifted in his chair, only making his situation a bit worse with the rubbing of his boxers, before slowly standing up shaking his head before downing the rest of his cranberry juice.

The sudden movement drew the four men’s eyes, only for them to meet his when he looked between the four. “Gotta go shower, an giv’ m’self a needle ta’ te’ thigh.” He said while patting his hands to the very top of his thighs, giving them a small smile. “I’ll see ya’ lads fer breakfast, yeh?”

“Aye, get some rest, bud.” Gaz said, smiling back to Wolfhound.

“Goodnight lad,” Price added while Ghost merely nodded.

“Cadal gu math, chuilean.” Soap’s teasing comment got a playful glare from Wolfhound, the man merely making an exaggerated face of disapproval. With a huff he slid his empty cup to the Scot before turning to walk out of the mess hall towards his room. He did not know how long he had until Ghost came to his room that night, but he figured he had enough time to shower and give himself the rest of his upkeep… maybe a bit more if he was so inclined. His normally calm pace turned brisk as he made his way to his room, pulling out his keys to unlock the door and shut it behind him once he was inside. He didn’t bother locking it since he was expecting someone and simply decided to shower with his bathroom locked instead.

He stripped himself of his clothes after that door was secured and set his packer off to the side, he wouldn’t be wearing it for the mission just for the fact of practicality. He didn’t want to have it fall from its spot in his underwear— it was quite the hassle on the field when it happened, and if this mission was going to take more than a week it just wasn’t worth it. The ginger man turned on his shower and let the water warm up, as he went to the mirror to inspect himself. He felt cheesy, checking himself out as he showed off to no one but himself, but it made him wonder if one day he’d be able to do so for someone else again. Once he was done he reached over to his cabinet to pull out a sterile needle and his bottle of testosterone, setting it on the counter for him to use after he’s cleaned up.

Crow hummed a little to himself then pressed his hips into the ledge of the counter, lightly biting the bottom of his lip as he let his thoughts run wild. He had felt so many conflicting emotions that day, too many emotions, but that didn’t stop his own body from acting out. He sighed softly to himself and opened one of his bathroom drawers to pull out his stroker, finally heading to hop in the shower for a needed release alongside a well deserved cleaning.

All in all his shower did not last terribly long, no longer than ten minutes since he still needed to administer his medication as well as do his nightly prayer. He would clean his toy out then let it air dry as he toweled himself off, smiling faintly to himself as he enjoyed the foggy headspace he was in. He picked up his comb to run it through his hair and brushed his teeth before finally removing the needle from the packaging to load it up with the correct amount of testosterone needed. He used to be terrified of this process, though now he was able to do it with ease, as if he were just putting a straw into a juice box. It was over and done within seconds, and once he placed a bandaid over his application spot he tossed the used needle into a sharps bin for later disposal at the medics.

He looked himself over in the mirror once again, sighing softly as he wrapped his arms around his torso in a hug, closing his eyes to imagine it were someone else holding him— the warmth from his shower only helped by keeping his skin warm. With a sigh he slowly let his arms fall to his side and he gazed at himself once again.

“C’mon lad, he wouldna’ wan ta’ see us like t’is, y’know… stop bein’ a fanny…” He said plainly to himself, watching his own lips move before he huffed and pointed at his reflection. “Docter Hall would tell us we need ta’ lis’en. Kai wants us ta’ be happy— so why can nay be happy? Man up. We cried in fronta Ghost fer fecks sake, yelled at our lads. We cannot be doin’ all t’at.”

He sighed, staring at himself for a few more seconds before dropping his hands to the counter and leaning on it, staring down into the sink. “We’re too hard on ourself… It ain’t fair… ta’ us… ta’ anyone..” He breathed out while pushing himself away from the counter to exit the bathroom, once he unlocked the door, and pulled some clean boxers on. “Damn… post wank emotions, feck off.”

Once he was at least in his underwear did he finally search for his rosary, lovingly touching the beads as he held them in his hands. Kneeling at his bedside as he did every night and morning, he began his prayer. Speaking the mantra he had been conditioned to say since he was little, though now at his own choice to do so.

22:37

His nightly routine nearly took a whole hour, but he was so focused that he didn’t even notice how long it had been. The only thing that finally got his attention from his prayer was a sharp knock at his door, which earned a faint curse as he glanced at the door. “It’s open, Ghost.” He didn’t need to ask who was outside his door, there was really only one person he had been expecting and only one person who had a reason to be knocking that late at night.

Almost immediately the door opened rather quietly— Crow never got used to how such a big man could move so silently— and the behemoth of a man entered. He’s yet to have anyone step foot in his room before, normally making whoever was coming to get him stay outside the door until he came out, but now he had someone standing in his only personal safe space. Crow stood up from his kneeling position to sit on the edge of his bed and looked to Simon, crossing his legs over one another.

“Y’only wear that to sleep?” The man at the door asked, cocking a brow and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at the mostly unclothed man.

Wolfhound looked down at himself then back to Ghost. “Aye? Only in m’room t’ough… Do y’wear all’o yer clothes ta’ bed? Freaky if y’do.” He replied with a chuckle, gesturing to the chair at the small desk on the other side of his room. “Chair is ove’tere… yer welcome to it.”

“Call me a freak then,” Simon replied as he went over to the desk. “But commando is worse.”

As the Englishman spun the chair around to face the bed he turned the lamp on, glancing over to the Irishman who chuckled softly. “I’m na’gonna sleep like t’at eva’.” He said as he pushed himself further back on his bed, not bothering to turn off the overhead light since Simon had begun to walk towards the lightswitch. Though the lieutenant would take the time to observe the young man’s room. It was neat and clean: boots near the door, dirty clothes in a small basket, while books and papers were stacked properly on the desk. Small canvases of painted landscapes and many maps lined the walls to keep them from being too barren.

“I’ve books fer ye’ if ye’ want ta’, uh, read…”

“I’ll be okay, Crow… just lay down an’ get some rest.” Simon said in reply with a faint chuckle as he flicked the lights off and returned to the chair to sit down, sitting silently as Crow crawled under his covers to get comfortable. The calming golden glow of his lamp filled what would have been darkness, making the room feel warm and slightly more comforting.

“...thank you, Simon.”

“... just close your eyes, O’Neil.”

The Irishman would lay back on his bed with a soft chuckle, the way Simon had spoken was soft and genuine, making his heart flutter in a way he hadn’t expected it to. He was glad that the both of them were not directly next to one another, he felt stupid for smiling shyly like a damn schoolboy. Crow pulled his covers a little closer to himself, staring up at the gentle, warm light that illuminated the other half of his room— and casted Simon's shadow onto the wall next to him. He sighed softly and then laid his arms over the top of his blankets, hugging his chest briefly. It was quiet for a little bit, as Crow was actively trying to sleep and actively failing at doing so. Soon the silence became too much, and he sighed softly then opened his mouth to speak.

"...Simon... What if t’is doesn't work? What if I'm doomed ta’ jus’... lay awake forever?... jus’ wasting yer time..?"

“You aren’t… I promise” Simon spoke quietly, his voice soft and gentle as he kept his eyes fixed forward at nothing in particular. “...and if it doesn’t work, then we’ll try something else.” He added after a moment of silence. “We’re a team after all, remember?”

"...aye.. I remember.." Crow said while finally glancing over to the man who had seen him crying earlier that day, one he had sparred with and made tea for. It felt odd, having another person in his room again especially after he lost his fiancé in a previous mission.

But oddly enough... It felt right too.

The room would be silent for a few minutes, only the sound of soft breathing being heard as well as the occasional shuffling of either of them moving slightly. Then Crow's voice would cut in gently once again.

"...before... I lost my lover... he and I used to lie awake at night... and talk about what we wanted with our future..." He said with a sad chuckle. "... we bought a house in Middlesbrough... little family home closer to the countryside.."

Crow sighed softly bringing his hands to his head, laughing softly as he did so. "I wanted horses... and him? ...chickens... he wanted chickens."

"...it’s okay to miss him, Crow." He spoke softly as Crow began to reminisce to him about their dreams with their late fiancé, about what their life could have been had the mission not gone wrong. Simon turned his head to Crow when he felt the younger man’s eyes on him, his gaze holding no judgment towards the operator. His words, while reassuring, sparked a faint pang in the sergeant’s chest.

"...I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain that you still feel." Simon continued to speak, his tone shifting into one that was more soothing and comforting. He understood what it was like to lose loved ones, but really only a familial sense— but he had an idea on how much it hurt due to the slight edge in Crow’s voice.

"...I saw it happen, y’know?" Crow said softly, blinking slowly as he took in a breath. "...I know as a soldier... we're supposed to expect te’ death of our friends and comrades.. but.. I...I wasn't prepared t’hold him in my arms... not prepared ta’ have his blood on my legs..." He mumbled, letting his arms go lax above his head, only to slowly turn onto his side— facing away from Simon to stare at the wall when their eyes briefly met.

"...he got shot in te’ head... on a recon that wasn't ‘sposed to have hostile insurgents in te’ area... our intel lied or... missed somet’ing and it cost me m’lover... my whole life… and I can't help but wish that it was me, sometimes. I wish I was te’ one who got shot so t’at I didn't have ta’ live with te’ grief and guilt t’at I feel everyday... and m’therapist says it's common... says survivor's guilt is something t’at most soldiers experience at least once..." Crow said while lightly moving to pull his pillow to his chest for faint comfort.

Simon shifted in his chair and looked at the back of Crow’s head with a gentle expression, one that was meant to convey that he understood and sympathized, even if the Irishman couldn’t see it. "It's normal to feel this way." The lieutenant spoke with a nod, and it was very true— grief and guilt were normal feelings to have after experiencing something traumatic or tragic. It was common amongst the ranks especially when one forms bonds with fellow soldiers, only to lose that soldier. Sometimes he felt it too, it just came with the territory— just as the fear of losing people came with it— but he tried to not show it.

"But you need to be kind to yourself… you’ve gotta take care of yourself." He continued, voice soft yet a bit firmer. "He wouldn't want you to be so hard on yourself."

"...you can't blame yourself, either." Simon spoke slowly, turning his own gaze towards the walls once again. "For something that wasn't your fault."

Crow squeezed his pillow softly and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath to keep his emotions in check— he could not cry in front of this man again, he had to do it in front of someone else before Simon ever saw tears in his eyes again. He then rolled over to face Simon, sighing softly. "I know... I'm workin' on it... swear it.." He paused for a few seconds then flicked his eyes to the lamp on his desk. "...can I hold yer hand again?"

The question got his attention, Simon’s eyes drifting over to Crow then would let out a faint chuckle and tilt his head slightly. He slowly rolled the chair towards the bed and leaned forward slightly to make it easier for Crow to take his hand again, much to the Irishman’s surprise.

"...yes." The man spoke while the other thought he could hear a smile.

Crow remained on his side, curling up slightly as he gently took Simon’s hand in his own— their calloused palms brushing against one another as their fingers interlocked in a somewhat firm hold. One determined to make sure the other got comfort, and the other desperate to feel the touch of another. The Irishman stared at their hands, while the Englishman passively watched his face.

After a good while, Simon noticed the way that Crow’s eyes fluttered shut and lazily opened, as well as the slight changes in the man’s breathing. It seemed that he was finally getting closer to sleeping. His hand tightened around Crow’s, the man squeezing gently and offering him a safe comfort that he hadn’t had all that much of recently. And in reply, Crow gently pulled their hands closer to his chest, as his head lulled further into the dip of his pillow. The room was silent for a few beats, and Simon would notice a difference, an improvement as Crow’s grip slowly released his now numbing hand.

“…that’s it, pup…” The lieutenant spoke quietly, watching as Crow slowly began to drift off into sleep. Simon squeezed his hand one last time before releasing his grip once Crow’s body finally went limp in relaxation, slowly adjusting his chair back again to relax. Once he was certain that the younger man was asleep, he stood up and silently moved the chair back to the desk so that he could turn off the light and head to the door.

“...Goodnight, Crow…” Simon whispered, his voice just loud enough that it would only be heard by Crow had he been awake. It was quiet— a perfect quiet for this night, as the only sounds now were the faint and steady sounds of Crow’s deep breathing and the ticking of the nearby clock hanging beside the door.

23:51

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zoeysdamn · 1 year

Text

Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.5

Summary: Pillowtalk after sex comes with its lot of confession and unexpected tenderness. You tell Tyler a little more about your childhood, and you both come to the conclusion that you need to collaborate to get through the school year. A surprise night visit could lead to more problems.

Warnings: angst, smut (characters are between 17 and 18), swearing, referred trauma, mention of arson, mention of blood

A/N: There’s not a lot of action in this chapter, it’s a bit like a filler episode to get to the “second part” of the fic, in a matter of the plot. I hope you’ll like it anyway!

[Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4]

It had been some time since you had found yourself with someone staying in your bed. And for some reason, this wasn’t completely unpleasant. Maybe because Tyler was surprisingly respectful of your boundaries, even with the mind-blowing sex you two just had. No idea how he sensed you required some time alone, but at the same time were scared enough to be on your own to ask him to stay.

Rolling on your side you opened one of your bed table drawers, retrieving your cigarette packs and your lighter. The previous blissful warmth that had been envelopping you was gradually fading, the naked skin of your upper body now exposed to the air. Lighting a cigarette you slumped lazily against the bed head, Tyler carefully observing you from where he laid on his side. Maybe it was on purpose, but you took your time to take the first drag, deeply inhaling the smoke instead of speaking up. You could almost hear the dozen of questions in Tyler's head. He was the first to talk.

“What happened on the lake ?'' Exhaling the smoke for a long second, you tried to ignore the flashes of the previous events echoing in your head, ''Yoko and Bianca decided to take the matter in their own hands,” you mumbled flatly. “Some teams on the lake saw them, they panicked and ran away, nothing much to say.”

Tyler’s eyes traveled on the side of your throat, noticing the scratch marks behind your ears and down your neck; he had been rough with you, but those marks weren’t his doing. It looked like someone had gripped on your neck with all their might, and not in a kinky way. Pieces of the puzzle slowly assembled in his mind: the marks, the mud and water on your clothes, the rasp in your voice when he had arrived in your room…the most dreadful scenario sketches itself in his mind.

Sensing horrified anxiety emanating from him, you turned your head to him and offered a weak but sincere smile.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “It’s not the first nor the last time it’ll happen.”

A hand reached for your forearm, caressing the skin gently, “Doesn’t make it any more right,” he whispered, and you didn’t push away his soothing touch. It was his way of being concerned after all.

“I brought that on myself,” you admitted in a hushed tone, “they want to get revenge and they won’t stop until they get it.”

“For what happened with Jeremiah and the Nightshades?” guessed Tyler. If you were surprised, it only lasted a second. Ajax must have spilled the beans about this whole affair, so you nodded in confirmation.

“Attacking him shook the hierarchy of their order,” you explained, “Jeremiah’s family had funded them for decades, they almost disappeared when he left the school.”

Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why does it matter? Isn’t this just a kind of student club?” You exhaled another string of smoke, almost finishing the cigarette, “It’s more than that for them. It’s an elite club, being part of it means building your adult social life. Being a former Nightshade has a certain weight among outcasts’ nobility, one of their most influential members’ sons being assaulted had consequences for everyone.”. Licking your lips, you tried to not think about what happened earlier too much; somehow it felt more traumatizing than what you did to Jeremiah. In fact, you hadn’t expected them to be this cruel.”The Nightshades had fallen in disgrace because of me,” you trailed on slowly, “if they make me disappear, they’ll get their honor and glory back, that’s why they’re so persistent at trying to harm me.”

At the admittance, Tyler felt his heart squeeze in sorrow. This wasn’t fair. Yes you had assaulted one of their members, but keeping attacking you, trying to kill you for a lost glory was downright cruel. But with your closed face and lingering sadness in your eyes, he knew trying to convince you otherwise was useless. You were resigned to accept this, no word could make you change your mind – and it broke his heart a little.

When you rolled on your side again to crush the cigarette on the ashtray on your bed table, his eyes found themselves attracted to your upper back. The red, turning purplish bruise in the middle of your back seemed fresh – it was where Yoko had crushed her knee to pin you on the ground. But more specifically, the dark pink scar in a kind of star shape at the center of your scapula, almost half the size of his hand, caught his eyes. Before he could stop himself, his fingers slowly reached for it, and a soft gasp escaped you when they grazed upon the irregular surface. The way you stiffened under his touch reminded him how you had hissed at it earlier, like it had triggered something. But his touch was much softer now, so you didn’t snap it away and much to his surprise, seemed to relax a little. Taking it as a sign it was okay, Tyler slowly traced the outlines of the scar, fingers gently dancing over the damaged skin. The contact on this sensitive patch of your skin, that you usually hide to everyone, sent a chill down your spine and you let out a faint ragged breath.

“It’s an old scar,” you whispered, Tyler’s thumb caressing the area where the scarred skin met the soft one on the outlines of your ribs.

The mattress beside you dipped slightly, and you felt his lips press a soft kiss on the top of the scar, light as a feather. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he reassured in a whisper. He was right of course; but deep down you felt like you owed that to him. Not because you had just fucked, but because he was willing to listen. It was definitely a first which made some of your repressed feelings crack up your shell a little.

“I was seven,” you said in a hushed tone, “I was living with my grandparents at that time, in a small country town. I didn’t really know what being a Van Helsing meant yet, for me everyone was the same and I didn’t understand my grandparent’s hate for what they called monsters.”

The memory made you shiver; crawling closer to you, Tyler slid his arm around your hip and pressed another reassuring kiss between your neck and shoulder. The soothing gesture helped calm your nerves a little.

“There were outcasts in the town, even if I didn’t know that at the time,” you continued in a rasping voice, a lump forming in your throat. “I went to bed one night like I always did, and fell asleep. My grandparents left the house during the night, I don’t know why but they did that often and nothing bad ever happened.”. Releasing a shaky breath, you tried to keep your composure despite the sting of tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Good thing you weren’t facing Tyler, or else you wouldn’t have been able to open up like this.

“It wasn’t the smell that woke me up first, the taste of ashes in my mouth did. Apparently I was a sound sleeper as a child,” you chuckled bitterly. “When I woke up in the middle of the night, my room was filled with smoke and flames. Someone had broken in to set the curtains on fire. I couldn’t escape.“

The muscles under your scars twitched, like a distant echo of the memory.

“I tried to scream, you know,” you whispered faintly, afraid that talking any louder would make the sob in your voice audible, “but there was so much smoke, it burned my eyes and lungs. I- I don’t even know how long it took me to get out of my room. When I finally reached the ground floor, the flames were already everywhere. And when I finally managed to get to a window…the cellar it…”

“Shhh,” whispered Tyler against your trembling skin, trying to soothe you, “it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re okay.”

Out of reflex, one of your hands came to grip on the one of his own that was caressing your belly, grounding you as your mind was spiraling down under the traumatizing memory.

You swallowed hard, “The ceiling collapsed,” you muttered, throat tight with emotion. “The beams broke under the flames’ pressure and…and I didn’t see them crumbling down until it was too late.”. Despite your better judgment, a broken sob left your lips, “I think I passed out a little after the blow. Because when I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t standing anymore, I was trapped under the beams and I couldn’t feel anything from my left shoulder.”

A treacherous tear made its way on your cheek and you whipped it immediately.

“I don’t know how I get out of the house,” you sobbed, “I think somehow I managed to free myself because of my narrow child body. Then I crawled outside by going through the kitchen backdoor. A neighbor found me at the border of the nearby wood, passed out, covered in ashes and a splinter of wood pierced through my shoulder.”

Heavy silence filled the room; opening up about this took a lot from you, and as horrified he was by your story, Tyler didn’t dare to speak. Instead, he hugged you tighter from behind, offering his silent support.

“The neighbor got me to the hospital, and my grandparents got me out the moment they showed up. Saying no one in this town was to be trusted and that we needed to go to another state because someone had recognized them.”. A bitter snort let your mouth at your grandparents’ mention, “They hunted the wrong werewolf in the nearby town, and once the pack found our house they were rooting for revenge. They found them trying to get rid of their arson material,” you sniffled loudly, “slayed them while I was trapped in that house.”

You reached for your scar, meeting Tyler’s fingers here and softly bumping into them as you massaged the top of your damaged skin.

“I owe them that scar as much as I do to those werewolves,” you muttered bitterly, “I got it just because my last name’s Van Helsing. The wolves wanted to get rid of me, and the grandparents deemed that their mission was more important than helping me. I get the reminder everyday in the mirror.”

You wanted to keep yourself composed, you truly did. But the weight of all this bitterness and sadness you had pushed down for years crashed into you, and you broke down into tears.

“I was a kid,” you whimpered, “I was just a fucking kid, it was too soon to learn anything about family burdens!”

Unable to find the words to comfort you, Tyler could only tighten his hug, and held you close as you sobbed in his arms. And that was all you needed, really, so you cried quietly and let all the pain you had ignored flow in you. After a few minutes you calmed down, sniffing loudly and back still against Tyler’s chest.

“If I could I’d disappear and leave the Van Helsing name behind me in the blink of an eye, truly I would,” you rasped weakly, “I’m so tired of all of this shit, with Nevermore, with my family and everything. But…I can’t let that happen again, not to anyone. That’s why I’m a hunter. I saw what outcasts and humans can do to each other…I can’t stay here and do nothing while some assholes are scarring and hurting generations of kids because of what they are and not thinking of the consequences of their actions. Does that…does that make sense?” you asked with a small voice, realizing how much you had opened up and suddenly feeling somewhat shy about it.

But Tyler nodded quietly against your skin, pressing another kiss on your shoulder, “Yeah, it does. I get it, you’re realistic. About your family, about outcasts, about yourself.”

His words made you turn your head to him, eyes wide in surprise. Your blurry gaze met his brown orbs, who held more care than you could have ever imagined. Somehow he had managed to voice exactly how you felt; because he could relate so much about it.

His face close enough with yours for your breaths to mix, Tyler carried on in a soft voice. “The only thing you want is to do your own thing while freeing yourself of your past, right? Even if you know you can’t change it.”

A heavy lump formed in your throat under the weight of emotions, but you still managed to give him a weak sincere smile, “You’re almost a better therapist than Dr.Fern,” you joked slightly.

It put it a little more at ease and Tyler cracked a smile, “Or maybe I can just understand you, sweetheart.”

“You can?” you asked in a small voice, tainted with surprise.

He nodded, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “I feel that; somehow I can relate to what you feel. I don’t really want to change who I am, I can’t anyway. But I want to start over, and I know you do too.”

Emotions started to build up in your throat again, and you pressed your lips against Tyler’s. As a way to say thank you, or maybe just because you craved to take every slightest form of affection right now. God knows when you’ll push it away in stubbornness again. You turned slightly to face Tyler, only breaking your kiss for a brief instant before diving on his lips again in a mix of passion and softness. Letting go of his lips you cradled his face, caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs, sinking in the gentle moment. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but the words were stuck in your throat; you weren’t even sure what to say, you weren’t really good at that kind of thing.

So instead you crawled a little higher on the bed, and sneaked your arms around Tyler’s neck, pulling him close to you. In this new position, Tyler’s head rested against your chest as you softly ran your fingers on his neck and his danced on the small of your back, caressing your skin. Both of you needed that physical contact.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up. “Did you mean what you said at the last therapy session?”, you whispered softly. “About not caring about redeeming yourself, and only getting away from here and finding a place to be your own person?”

He nodded above your breasts, his breath tickling your skin.

You pondered whether or not you should ask this, but the question burned in your mind, “Do you mean that? Not redeeming, I mean.”

Tyler angled his face up to look at you with furrowed brows, “Why?”

Softly pushing away some curls on his forehead, you looked at him intensely, “I don’t know…I feel there’s more than that. There’s more than the cocky and sexy witty boy in you, tiger.”

This brought a grin on his face, “So you think I’m sexy, uh?”

You laughed lightly and leaned to almost brush your lips against his teasingly, “I don’t have mind-blowing sex with everyone, pretty boy.”

His grin only grew wider at that, but it soon faltered as he thought about your question.

Laying his head back against your chest, he sighed faintly, “It might sound silly but…a part of me wants to make up for what I did, that’s why I need to make this year at Nevermore work. I…I want to make at least this right, for my mom. She- I don’t think she’d like to see me as a blood-thirsted murderer for the rest of my life.”

Unable to stop yourself you let out a small snort, “Mommy’s boy much? Should’ve seen that one coming.”

The snarky comment obviously stung him, because he immediately shot up his head to glare at you, pushing you away and making you wince at the loss of his warm skin against yours, “And what about it? Can’t I just miss my mom or want to do things right for once without you being such a sarcastic bitch about it? What the fuck is your problem?”

Your face darkened in shame, and you averted your eyes; it was a low blow coming from you, and you knew you shouldn’t have said that. Tyler calmed down a little at your backing off instead of the witty comeback he expected. He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that either and started to feel guilty about it.

“Hey,” he whispered in a softer tone while getting up slightly to crawl back to your height and laying on his back, “c’me here”. His arm opened in an invitation, and after a brief moment of hesitation you silently laid next to him, your head against his biceps. For a solid minute none of you uttered a word.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Tyler finally said, to which you only shrugged.

“Don’t be. I had no right to be such a bitch about your family just because I don’t give two shits about mine.” You let out a long sigh. “I guess it’s just…weird to me to hear someone being willing to change who they are for someone else, you know?”

Tyler gave a pensive hum, “Would you stop hunting if someone asked you to?”

Thinking about it for a moment before answering, you then said, “No. Definitely not, even if that someone is a creature I could never harm. Don’t get me wrong,” you then added to his raised eyebrows, “I love hunting, it gives me power.”

“How so?”

Rubbing the scar on your back mind-absently, you muttered, “It’s the only way I have the feeling that I can actually do something. And do what people expect me to do.”

Tyler’s eyes widened at your words. He had always pictured you as the opposite of a people-pleaser, more prone to do your own thing no matter what. Guess there was more to that too.

“My family has always been saying things like, not ‘you can do it’, but ‘you must do it’. And…I was just a random little girl with no special powers, what else was I supposed to do to exist in their eyes?”. You let out a tired sigh, “Even if I’m old enough to choose my own actions now, I don’t know if I ever want to stop being a hunter, even if I don’t slay any creature in blind rage like it had always been done. It’s how I am, how I exist…I’m not even sure if I’d know what to do instead.”

“Would you,” Tyler started before clearing his throat awkwardly like he was hesitant, “would you be willing to try if…if someone was willing to help you figure it out?”

Turning your head to the side you met his gaze already set on you, burning with his question. None of you dared to address the one hidden behind it though. Would you run with me if I asked you to? It was here, just on the tip of his tongue; but it didn’t come out. Looking at him intensely, you tried to not get lost into his deep brown eyes or getting distracted by his lips. Because your walls of defense had been already lowered for too long, a sarcastic answer took over.

“Asking me to marry you already, lover boy?” you grinned softly. “Didn’t know you had enjoyed the sex so much.”

He let out a dry chuckle, both flustered and amused by the suggestion, “I mean, we both want to go through this year and then leave all of this behind to start over. If we stick together, we could help each other with that, right?”

You thought about it for a second; he wasn’t wrong. Having each other’s back and making sure you both graduated was the key to both of your freedoms. And given what just happened – great sex and heart-to-heart pillow talk alike – well, it couldn’t go too bad, could it?

“Okay,” you breathed softly, “yeah, sounds like a plan. Guess you’re really stuck with me now, partner.”

Tyler grinned, one of his hands brushing teasingly under your belly button, “Bet someone was really convincing earlier to make you agree, uh doll?”

You grinned and pressed yourself against him, almost laying on top of him, “Mmmh, that glorious ass of yours is definitely a nice added bonus, not gonna lie.”

“Good to know you appreciate nice things,” he chuckled, “does that plan of yours include more of this ‘mind-blowing sex’? Asking for a friend.”

The feeling of his digit slowly dipping between your folds made you shiver and you pressed a grining kiss against his lips, muffling a moan, “If you play your cards correctly, maybe it will, pretty boy.”

Turned out that Tyler definitely knew how to play his cards correctly.

It didn’t take much time before the two of you jumped on each other again, mouths hungrily kissing and biting, hands groping, nails scratching on every inch of your skins every time the very thin barrier of self-control broke. You’d be surprised if you two had actually managed to stay discreet about it; the endless flirting wasn't different than before, except for the not so subtle eye-sex added to the bunch every now and then. One could have thought that all the tension would have died down after Tyler and you finally fucked, boy they couldn’t been more wrong. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to disappear after dinner or between classes, and you found yourself more than once on your knees on a bathroom’s floor, bobbing your head up and down and swirling your tongue around Tyler’s cock as he gripped the back of your head and grunted in ragged breaths under the sweet ministrations of your mouth; or for him have you pressed flush against your mattress again, thrusting deep into your dripping pussy, relishing on the feeling of your walls squeezing him and the wanton moans like music in his ears. He’d pull one of your legs over his shoulder and you’d let out the most delicious cry as he’d reach the spot that made you see stars, not caring the slightest if anyone heard you.

None of you had yet spoken up about where your relationship stood. Two weeks had already passed since the disastrous Poe cup, and the marks Yoko’s grip had left on your neck were gone, long replaced with more pleasurably-earned bite marks and scratches thanks to Tyler. Perhaps the aftermath of the Poe cup events didn’t leave much room to talk about it, or perhaps none of you decided to address the subject, seemingly always forgetting to mention it every time the question popped in your minds.

The most accurate term was that you were…friends, probably. Sure, friends didn’t fuck each other’s brains out like you did, and weren’t supposed to throw that much snarky comments, but you weren’t exactly together either. You guessed maybe you were lovers? There wasn’t love with a big L, at least not really – you wouldn’t have opened up that much to Tyler if there wasn’t a little more than affection for him. So, more than friends, but not yet lovers?

Although right now you couldn’t care less about whatever label you could put on your relationship, not when Tyler was mercilessly pounding into you and groaning against your shoulder. Chest pressed against his room’s door, you stifled a heated whimper in hope no one passing by in the corridor would hear you. That only seemed to amuse Tyler even more and he nibbed the spot behind your ear playfully, teeth sinking in the soft skin like he knew would make your head turn.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Not much cocky now are we?”

Gasping loudly at a sharper roll of his hips, your left hand blindly reached behind to grip the back of his thigh. The way your body was pinned between his and the door didn’t allow you to get much grounding, but Tyler’s violent thrusts were enough to keep you standing despite your wobbling knees. But no matter how delicious he felt pounding into you, you didn’t want to admit your defeat just yet.

Letting go of his thigh, your hand went to reach his head and you tugged harshly on his roots, making him groan on your neck.

“I think I’m just so full of your cock now, lover boy, isn’t that right?”

The way your hips rolled back against him took Tyler by surprise, and he let out a long moan this time. The grin that pushed on your face between ragged breaths was pure ecstasy and delight to his reaction. As an immediate answer to your teasing Tyler gripped on your hips, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later, and slammed harder through your dripping pussy. Clenching your walls around his length you couldn't help but throw a punched fist against the door.

“A-ah fuck! Just right here right fuckin’ he– fUCK!”

The high-pitched cry that left your lips only made him more feral, thrusts becoming even harder until his balls slapped against your skin. You whimpered loudly and a sudden urge made you grab one of Tyler’s hands to press it against your throbbing clit. He chuckled hotly in your ear but didn’t complain about it when he started to finger you at an unforgiving pace.

“Eager, doll? Want to cum all over my cock with that sweet pussy of yours?”

A wanton moan escaped from your throat once again, and you drooled a little against the door. “Don’t stop, don’t– ahn! Tyler!”

“That’s it,” he growled, curling his fingers against just the right spot, “say my name sweetheart, go on.”

So caught on in your animalistic and erotic atmosphere, none of you heard the muffled sound of footsteps in the corridor and coming closer to the room. And when the door opened unexpectedly – despite your body pressed flush against it – time froze for a second. Through the small gap of the door your glossy lusted gaze met the frozen – no, horrified – eyes of Tyler’s roommate. Speaking of him, Tyler hadn’t slowed down his pace and kept up with his savage thrusting and groans – and before you could stop yourself you moaned as he hit deep inside you. The sound made Ajax’s mind snap back into reality and his face turned into the brightest shade of red before he shut the door violently in ashamed mortification. You could almost feel sorry for the poor Gorgon if you weren't so busy having your pussy being absolutely ravaged by Tyler's cock. A rough slam threw all your concerns out of the window and you felt a familiar knot building up in your stomach.

"Ha—! Yes there, please Tyler harder, han—"

The shameless beg wasn't anything like you but damn Tyler just felt so deep and so good. On wobbly knees you tried so hard to grasp on some more pressure to relieve yourself, your hips wildly bucking against his fingers or trying to push back closer to his groin.

Entangled in your growing pleasure you didn't notice his other hand crawling under your shirt until his fingers pushed up your bra and pinched your nipple. A squeak escaped you, quickly turning into a moan as you pressed yourself even harder to the door, pushing closer into his large hand.

Both of you were close now, and you couldn't form a single coherent thought in your mind. Tyler was everywhere, rubbing on your clit, circling your nipples, pounding into your cunt, and biting on your neck, his presence was overwhelming. His hungry grunts gradually turned into moans as he felt his balls tighten, so ready to release himself in you, filling you with his cum. The mere thought of it and the erotic vision of you trapped between him and the door, moaning shamelessly and wetting his cock and fingers made Tyler moan loudly and he came hard inside you. The feeling of him releasing his seed made you cry even more loudly and he slammed his cumming dick ruthlessly into you through his orgasm, determined to make you cum too. The mad pace he set on his fingers combined with the force of his girth hitting your right spot did the trick, and only a few seconds later you were rolling your head back on his shoulder, your mouth wide open in a silent moan caught in your throat.

Tyler's thrusts became gradually sloppier, his fingers massaging your inner walls gently as you both rode through your orgasm. Chest rising up in ragged breathing you tried to regain composure, Tyler's arm securely sneaked around your middle to support you with your shaky legs. Angling your face up, you peppered his jaw with lazy open-mouthed kisses.

“Where did that come from, lover boy?” you breathed out with a weak grin.

Breathing heavily, Tyler chuckled against your neck, “You didn’t see how fucking hot you look after fencing practice, doll. Plus I didn’t hear you complaining about that, uh?”

His hand lazily grabbed your throat to turn your face correctly to kiss you, and you hummed into the kiss. Oh no, you didn’t complain about it the slightest.

"I think we scared Ajax for the rest of his life," you chuckled, parting your lips from his.

“Mmmmh, guess your moans gave him the impression we were making a porn in there.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully, but the needy whimper that escaped you when Tyler pulled himself out of you proved him right. Turning you around to face him with a surprising gentleness, he brought you close again into another kiss.

“Don’t think Ajax will be back anytime soon,” he whispered between two bruising kisses, “shower?”

The stickiness of his cum mixed with your own dripping between your legs made you nod. “Lead the way, tiger.”

The dark circles under Ajax’s eyes the next day were almost as funny as the mortified blush that crept on his face every time he looked at you. Maybe he should have tried to stone himself to forget what he had seen.

A few days later, you were just finishing brushing your teeth to go to bed when someone knocked on your door. Checking the hour you realized it was way past curfew and wondered who it could be. Opening your door you couldn’t help but feel a pang of deception when it didn’t show a familiar curly-haired scared boy, but instead the short silhouette of Wednesday.

“Van Helsing,” she greeted flatly.

“Addams. What are you doing here?”

“I require your expertise about something.”

Your eyebrow rose high, “At this hour?”

“I’m a nocturnal animal,” deadpanned Wednesday. She pushed past you, inviting herself in without asking, “I hope I won’t find any gross evidence of your coital activities in this room,” she noted while looking around your room, “I sadly lack acid to burn my own eyes. Tragic.”

You raised an eyebrow, quickly deducing what she was referring to and how she heard of that, “So Ajax was actually traumatized enough to confide in you? Strange.”

“He didn’t. He has a loud mouth and so does Enid, unfortunately,” she sneered, a chill of disgust coursing down her spine.

Chuckling, you shut your door and went to lean against your desk, arm crossed.

“Isn’t that strange that you came to me specifically,” you mused with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m more inclined to seek advice from people who are actually skilled at killing,” she said casually, “I find them more enlightened than most humans on practical matters.”

That made you snort lightly.

“Okay so,” you inquired, “what did you need my help for?”

“I require your expertise,” corrected the Addams sharply, “I do not need help.”

Shrugging at her comment you rolled your eyes, “Whatever you call it. Shoot.”

“I came to understand you were quite versed in alchemy skills, is that true?”

You raised a curious eyebrow at her. The training to become a monster hunter had a large part about how to make potions, elixirs, bombs and decoction to help for the hunts; so yeah, you aced the basic level classes at Nevermore, but you weren’t exactly the potion master either.

“Sure,” you chimed carefully, “depends on how advanced we talk about alchemy. Why?”

“I assume you happen to know about the so-called truth serum?”

You nodded. Although even the most talented of witches haven’t managed to turn their truth-telling spells into a potion, there was indeed a concoction that could do the trick at a smaller scale. A bunch of psychoactive drugs to make a subject more willing to provide the truth, really. Ethanol, scopolamine and some other substances mixed together couldn’t exactly guarantee a predictable enhancement of truth-telling, but it could at least work on weaker minds.

“What of it?” you asked curiously.

Looking closely at your old books collection – mostly volumes about monster hunting and bestiaries – Wednesday seemed completely unfazed by your current discussion, “As an expert, what do you think about adding some more substances into it?”

“Depends, what kind of substances?” you frowned.

Turning sharply in your direction, Wednesday explained, “From wolfsbane to silver dust, I’m yet to decide on which monster I’m gonna use it.”

You scoffed, “So you want to make someone sing for you, what about throwing more substances to that shit? Making sure you’d outplay them?”

Giving you a deadpanning look, Wednesday didn’t seem amused by your joke, “I’m merely compensating for an unpleasantly weaker physique compared to literal monsters. I thought a hunter such as yourself would understand the strategy.”

“I am,” you confirmed, “actually it’s pretty clever. You have to make up for your short height after all. But to answer your question,” you continued, not taking much of the death glare she sent you, “I think it cannot hurt too bad if you’re dosing the substance wisely. If you’re adding something that can be deadly for a monster, be sure to not put too much or else you won’t have so much monster to interrogate left.”

Wednesday nodded and crossed the room to get to the door without another word.

“Glad to be of help!” you called out as she closed the door. She didn’t even say why she had needed the information but after all, you guessed that she knew what she was doing.

You got your answer a little less than a week later, when a teacher stormed into the library and asked you sharply to follow them to Weems’ office. They didn’t even answer you when you asked what it was about, surprised by the apparent rush that tore you away from your studying time. Tyler exchanged a surprised look with you, lifting up his nose from his homework.

“D’you think I should come too?” he muttered when you gathered your notebooks in your bag under the teacher’s irritated gaze.

Shaking your head you tried to reassure yourself, “Nah, it mustn’t be that important. I’ll text you okay?”

The quick walking pace of the teacher leading you to Weems’ office seemed to say otherwise. The fact that they accompanied you made you frown in the first place, because you definitely knew how to get to the Principal’s office by yourself. Something felt off. When you arrived and swung the door open, you were welcomed by the death glare of Principal Weems and Wednesday’s usual bored expression. Funny how none of you seemed to want to be here.

“You wanted to see me, principal Weems?” you asked carefully.

“Enough with the pleasantries, Miss Van Helsing,” she snapped harshly, her usual politeness completely gone, “I assume you know perfectly why you are here.”

It wasn’t often you found yourself being completely clueless about a situation, but it was definitely the case here. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you glanced back and forth between the bored looking student and the fuming principal.

“No but for real, what am I doing here?” you repeated, slightly frustrated by the whole situation.

Weems glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line, “Yoko Tanaka was admitted at the hospital last night for an intoxication due to contact with vampire-toxic substances. Does that ring any bell to you?”

Glancing at Wednesday, you only met a roll of her eyes. What the fuck did she do? No matter how surprised you were, you couldn’t help but snort.

“Ah! So Yoko finally got what she deserves, fucking good news. Have to thank karma for this one.”

Weems slammed her hand on her desk, not amused at all by your behavior, “This is a very serious matter, Miss Van Helsing! I’m fed up with your attitude, you’ve gotten too far by attacking another student!”

The sudden accusation made you growl and your face darken. “Wait, wait wait, hold the fuck up, I did not attack this bitch,” you snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at the Principal, “Yoko got what she fucking deserved but I have nothing to do with it, I’m not bloody stupid!”

“Then why does your signature lie all over this?” roared Weems, her patience running short. She had spent all of her night at the hospital, alternating between the rushing reports of the doctors and the frantic calls from Yoko’s coven and the school board demanding answers.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” you spat venomously, “why are you accusing me, uh? Because it would be so easy if you'd have me expelled again?”

Flaring her nostrils, Weems tried to keep her composure.

“Miss Tanaka was poisoned with extracts of refined silver dust,” she articulated, “strange how its composition is awfully similar to the bomb you used against Mr Kelswizck a few years ago.”

“I don’t like your insinuations,” you growled, your hands gripped into tights fists. “You don’t have the slightest proof I did that to Yoko. And beside,” you added angrily nodding to the silent other student in the room, “why Wednesday’s here?”

Weems sent a glare in the Addams’ direction.

“Miss Addams seems to have a knack to find herself in the most ambiguous situations when it comes to crime scenes. She was the one found beside Miss Tanaka’s body.”

“I had her tied up on the chair to avoid unwanted reactions during interrogation,” said Wednesday flatly, and you felt your jaw hit the floor. Not at Wednesday and her methods – you might actually hug her for that – but at Weems for the raging fury burning within you.

“You mean you have someone who was found with her and who admits doing this and you’re accusing me? What the actual FUCK is wrong with you!” you screamed at the principal.

This didn’t calm the Principal who roared even louder, “You had your every reason to hate Yoko Tanaka and we both know it! Who else could have found refined silver dust?”

“Every fucking student in the alchemy class!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, “god, do you even know what’s been teached in your own school?”

This made Weems stop dead in the tracks of her next shouting, staring at you with a frown. It looked like you had made a point. As on cue, Wednesday spoke up.

“I did in fact steal the silver dust in the alchemy lab. Now, if you two are done with your childish bickering, can we move on to the actual matter?”

The laid-back impertinence of her tone almost made you scoff and Weems’ face tainted in angry purple, until Wednesday got a filler and a recorder out of her backpack.

“Yoko was a stalker and a bully,” she explained as Weems somehow reluctantly looked through the pieces of evidence – some print of texts, anonymous messages etc. “I started to receive those threatening messages at the end of last year and pursued my investigation here.”

Weems’ lips were pressed into a thin line, “Those are serious allegations Miss Addams,” she said pointedly, “even if there’s some serious threats in there, I can’t caution such action on mere evidence.”

“I got her to confess,” counter-attacked Wednesday with her usual bored tone. “Everything got recorded here.”

All your three pairs of eyes landed on the recorder on the desk. Weems didn’t seem able to say anything as her mind collected everything; you, on the other hand, made the connection with Wednesday’s strange visit in your room a few days earlier. But you sure kept that to yourself, there was no need to give more reason to suspect you.

“I would very much prefer if this prowess could not be assigned to someone else’s credit,” noted Wednesday pointedly, “even if that failed murder is a disgrace to the Addams’ name. Shame I didn’t surdose it more.”

Okay, if Enid and her broke up one day, you’d definitely try your chance with Wednesday Addams, that was a promise to yourself.

For now you had more urgent matters and you turned back to Weems with a hard glare, despite the thrill of her upcoming apology.

“I believe you have something to tell me then, Principal Weems?” you sneered, bitter irony dripping of your words.

Licking her lips, Weems seemed hesitant to speak up.

But then the door sprung open suddenly and all three of your heads snapped in that direction, only to see Tyler strolling unannounced in the office.

“Mr Galpin what–”

“Y/N has nothing to do with all of this Principal Weems, you have to believe her,” he interrupted her, crossing the room in a few strides. Eyes wide, you looked at him in disbelief. You didn’t even hear the apologetic teacher on the other side of the door – surely he had tried to stop Tyler after he insisted on knowing what was going on.

“Yoko had been found last night, right?” he carried on passionately, unaware of the bewildered looks around him.

“Mister Galpin,” tried Weems patiently, “there’s no–”

“Y/N was with me the whole time,” he interrupted her again, “we went to diner together, ask Ajax he’ll confirm it, and–”

“Tyler!” you called him gently but firmly, putting your hand on his arm to get his attention. He whipped his head around and met your more relaxed gaze. “It’s okay, she knows I don’t have anything to do with this. Right?” you added with a glare to the principal.

Weems nodded slowly, very reluctantly, and cleared her throat.

“I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Van Helsing. There may have been some misconceptions in the previous accusations.”

“No shit,” you spat. “I hope that you’ll take some serious sanctions at the bullies at Nevermore now; you’re already fucking late about it.”

Weems sent a deadly glare in your direction, “Get out of my office, both of you.”

It didn’t take you more to turn back and leave the room, Tyler on your side. On the way out, you gave a faint nod to Wednesday; both for not having mentioned to Weems that you somehow helped in that, and for what she had done to Yoko. Even if it was only to serve her personal interests, it sure did feel good.

Once you were far enough from Weems’ office, you let out a long breath you had been holding up, nerves finally relaxing. The whole scene had just seemed unreal. And there was this awkward, concerned-filled silence between Tyler and you. After some time, you cleared your throat.

“Thank you. Y’know, for coming to my defense. You didn’t have to do that.”

Of course what he had said was true; and it would have been revealed later anyway, when you would have insisted on proving your innocence (for once), and called in witnesses. But Tyler had shown up willingly, on his own, because you needed him. Not because you called, or because it was a last resort, but because you needed him. And honestly, it felt nice.

Gently grabbing your shoulder, Tyler tugged you closer on his side so you could snuggle against him. You had never shown such a public display of affection before, but you didn’t object to it the slightest.

“Anytime sweetheart,” he said while pressing a kiss on your forehead, “anytime.”

[Part.6]

A/N: okay but the truth serum thing was an idea from a tv show I saw a long time ago and a 2 minutes wikipedia research, DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME, PEOPLE (yes even if your loved one/parent/sibling/cat ate the last cookie but denies it. Take their wallet and go buy another whole cookie pack. Especially if that’s the cat’s fault, take the feline’s wallet.)

Also on a more serious note, I decided to follow the fan theory that places Yoko as Wednesday’s stalker, because it fit well for plot reasons

Next part’s teaser? The Rave’n!

Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥ Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist:

@igotanidea @officerrrfriendly @beggingforxavierthorpe @aliciahlewis @stresseyzesty @katiemrty @leightonsteele @black-swan-blog27 @mooniesthings @nightfurya @steadypoetrydinosaur

Usernames unfound by Tumblr:

@spiceyhotsherbet

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin angst #tyler galpin smut #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #Van Helsing! Reader #no beta we die like men

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