#scatter plots are alright though

[kentopedia]

˚☽˚｡⋆ shining like gunmetal

dazai x f!reader, 3.0k words

summary — dazai comes home late, covered in someone's blood

contents — pm reader & pm boss dazai, references to violence / torture lol, sfw !!, the plot is basically cleaning blood off dazai

notes — i thought this would help me get pm dazai out of my system, but i fear i may have to write another nsfw piece for that

Each turn of the clock became longer and longer as you watched the seconds tick down, signaling that another minute had passed. The sun had long since set; your dining room was illuminated only by candles, creating a romantic ambiance throughout the penthouse.

Across from you, an empty seat sat, its usual inhabitant absent. An array of food scattered across the table, far too much for just one person to eat. Perhaps, even, there would be leftovers for days after.

Your housekeeper, Izumi, set the last plate of hot food on the table, her eyes nervous as she flitted back to you, then to the spot where Dazai usually sat. While her usual duties did not include cooking, you’d recruited her that evening, hopeful that she could help you prepare all of Dazai’s favorite dishes. 

You'd just wanted to do something special for your beloved, and he wasn’t even there to enjoy it. 

Steam lingered on each of the platters, but it was quickly wafting away, evaporating into the cool air of the Yokohama evening. All of your hard work over the past few hours would seem insignificant if the Port Mafia's boss didn’t return before the meal cooled completely. 

You drummed your fingers against the table, trying hard not to give in to your annoyance. 

“He’s late.” You spoke the words to no one in particular, an observation that anyone could discern with their own two eyes. 

Still, you kept your gaze harsh on the empty seat, as if willing Dazai to materialize from thin air. 

The comment still seemed to shake Izumi from a trance, even if it had been nothing more than the obvious. She twisted her fingers together, flattening her top farther over her waist band. Although she was one of the only people in the mafia that saw the softer side of Dazai, the one he reserved just for you, she was still overwhelmingly intimidated by him. 

“I’m sorry, miss,” she said, even though you always reminded her that it was fine to address you by your name. “I can take it back into the kitchen and—”

You stopped her with a sigh, shaking your head before letting it drop into your hands. “No need. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you assured her, but it was already ten minutes past seven—the hour that Dazai had said he’d be back for dinner. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have minded. You knew that Dazai was busy, that the tasks piled onto him were unending and overwhelming. Even though you hated seeing him overwork himself, it was always alright. He never took his stress out on you and always showered you with affection upon his return from a long day. 

Tonight, though, he’d promised that he’d be there, right on time, for dinner. You agreed upon that hour beforehand, and he still hadn’t showed. 

Izumi looked at your disappointed expression, knowing how much the small moments with Dazai meant to you. You never doubted that you were the most important person in his life, and you never would. 

Despite that steadfast belief, you still ached when his work began to cut in on his time with you. 

“Give him a couple more minutes,” Izumi said, smiling as she squeezed your arm gently. She was just a few years older than you, but there was a motherly glint to her eyes when she regarded you, her affection just barely veiled. 

Over the past few years, you’d persuaded her to see you as more than just her employer, at the very least. There would always been a thin shield of professionalism between you, but now, you considered her something of a friend. 

You dispelled all your irritation on a steady exhale and did as she suggested, waiting five more minutes. The heat began to dissipate from the cooling food, the plates and bowls no longer hot to the touch. 

The time reached 7:15. Izumi returned from the kitchen again with a frown, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” She asked, sympathetic to your spoiled night, her usually bright eyes dimming. 

You stood, the chair screeching as you pushed it away. Though it seemed like such a small issue compared to all the other dilemmas you’d faced with Dazai, the burning desire of tears began to make its way up your throat.

You shook your head, standing taller, trying to remind yourself that someone proud enough to stand next to Dazai wouldn’t cry about something so inconsequential.  

“I’ll take it to my room, if you don’t mind,” you said, and Izumi nodded, smiling at you, softly, but without the pity that she knew you hated. 

She made her way to your seat, to gather up a plate to bring to you in a moment. Though, she didn’t get far in her task, and you didn’t make it out of the room. Seconds later, Dazai was pushing open the door, his footsteps sharp in the otherwise quiet hall. 

You looked up at him, frowning, a complaint already parting your lips as you assessed his appearance. 

Dazai’s shirt was undone, his hair a mess, stands stuck to his forehead, creasing at unusual ends. He was covered in blood from head to toe, the deep color staining his crisp white top. It had splattered against his cheek, his suit, even on his shoes, creating an intimidating vision of gore. The bandages around his wrists had loosened, soaked a muddy brown from the oxidation. Dazai’s tie had also been discarded, the dark silk peeking out of his pocket. 

Despite the violence of his appearance, his eyes were soft as he headed to you, unbothered by anything else in the room. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my love,” he apologized profusely, his voice low and gentle, eyes crestfallen in a way that had you forgiving him on the spot.

Still, you pinned him with your gaze, letting him feel every second of those fifteen minutes you'd believed that he’d forgotten his promise. The distance between you felt cold, even when there was hardly any of it between you.

“You told me you’d be here,” you said with a frown. The food had continued to cool. All you’d wanted was to give him an ounce of kindness in his world of endless hurt.

“I know.” Bloodied, delicate fingers were on your elbow, barely grazing your skin as he attempted to ease you into him. “I really am sorry. I got caught up with something.”

You were no stranger to his definition of something.

Dazai began to lean in, hopeful that he could erase your worries with a kiss, but you held an arm out, keeping him away.

“Don’t kiss me with blood on your face,” you said, the bite only reaching the end of your sentence, even if it didn’t fully reflect your emotions. A desperate desire to be near him battled every move you made. 

“It was an apology kiss.” Dazai's bottom lip curled into a pout. 

You refused to be swayed by the vulnerability in his wide brown eyes. “I don’t want it.”

He glowered for a moment longer, trying to topple your pride. When he got nowhere, he gestured towards your seat, hoping you'd take your place once more.

“Fine,” he said dramatically. "I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings.” 

You wrinkled your brow, displeased by the insinuation that you would carry on as normal. 

Wearily, Dazai leaned against the chair, and waited. When you did nothing, he pushed it back in, eyeing you skeptically. “Do you not want to eat anymore?” He asked, frowning. It seemed he was not upset, but unsure of where you stood on the matter.

You made a face. “I can’t sit across the table from you and have a cheerful dinner conversation while you’ve got someone else’s blood coating your entire body.” 

Dazai looked down, as if only realizing for the first time that he was stained ruby red. “The food will get cold, darling.” 

“You should’ve been on time, then.” It came out more clipped than you meant it to, and Dazai just stared back, his expression terse as you communicated silently. 

Izumi, finally, made her presence known as she cleared her throat, directing both of your attentions back to her. “I can warm it,” she said, darting her eyes away when Dazai’s piercing gaze reached her. “If you’d like.” 

Dazai began to object, but you spoke over him, knowing his abrasive words would only upset her. Instead, you laced your fingers with his to drag him out of the dining room. “Thank you, Izumi. We’ll only be a minute.” 

You shuttled him into the bathroom, and Dazai remained uncharacteristically quiet, gauging your mood as you shut the door behind the two of you.

“Sit,” you said, perching him at the edge of the sink. Dazai blinked, but said nothing. His long legs stretched against the cabinets, feet reaching the floor, even as he rested his weight on the countertop.

You maneuvered around the bathroom, opening cabinets and shutting drawers, feeling Dazai's watchful eyes on you.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling, allowing his infatuation to consume him completely, now that you were alone. “As always. That dress looks particularly stunning on you, though. You should wear it more often.” He tried to lure you in by the waist, but you dodged him once more, letting him huff in annoyance. 

"Thank you," you said, barely above a whisper, and left him sitting in the bathroom alone.

Hastily, you returned to your bedroom, rummaging through his closet for a clean top. Though he had so many of the same styles, you settled on a silk, black button-up, one that would pair nicely with your own evening gown.

When you returned, Dazai was leaning against the mirror, eyes closed, the dirtied and discarded bandages ripped from his face.

Over the past few weeks, his hair had grown longer, curling around his jaw and over his eyebrows, thick and tangled from whatever damage he’d inflicted before coming home to you.

Yet, you softened at the sight of him so open, wishing you could take even an ounce of that stress off his shoulders. 

As he breathed, evenly and slowly, you ran a washcloth under the water, warming it. You could feel Dazai’s eyes on you as you hummed, busying yourself with the task at hand.

“I can’t tell if you’re actually mad at me or not,” he said, and though he forced out a laugh, the concern in his eyes was more real than he wanted you to believe. “I really am sorry.”

It was almost amusing that this was the man everyone in the city feared. When people looked at Dazai, it was never with affection, never with the deepest humanity within your own heart. Even when he’d always had so much love to give, just nowhere to put it until he'd met you.

Perhaps, in another universe, life had been kinder to him. 

You exhaled and relaxed, offering him the smallest of smiles. The wash cloth foamed with soap as you poured it, a fresh aroma of honey and vanilla fusing into the space between you. 

“I’m not mad, Osamu,” you said, and he visibly relaxed, hooking his ankles around yours while you stood between his thighs. “I was more disappointed than anything. I hate missing out on time with you.” You frowned and brushed the hair off his forehead, tucking longer strands behind his ears. “Will you take a break every once in a while?” 

Dazai melted under your soft touch, preening with a cheeky grin. “Of course I will.” He brushed his thumb over your cheeks, dark eyelashes fanning the sharp bones of his face as he stared, astonished by your care. “I’ve been busy this week, and I apologize. Just say the word, and I’m yours for a day, a week, a month.” He exhaled, unsteadily. “All you have to do is ask.” 

You smiled, and though you wouldn't ask for so much time with him, not when things were so hectic with the mafia, it was nice to know that you could.

Slowly, you ran the cloth over the splattered blood, wiping it off inch by inch. His skin tone returned to normal, the deep red stain erasing. 

“What happened this time?”

Dazai sighed, dropping his chin to his chest, releasing every ounce of cruelty from his being. It was so hard to reconcile the two sides of him. He was sweet to you, caring and gentle. But you’d seen him when he was out of your embrace, faced with an enemy, a subordinate that hadn’t followed rules. He so swiftly morphed into someone that was cruel, merciless, offering them a smile only in mockery. 

“Some idiot was leaking information to another group,” Dazai said, tracing patterns on your hips. “If he would’ve been smart, he would’ve realized he never had access to anything of substance. I don’t know why risking his position with us was worth some extra pocket money.”

You frowned. “It took you this long to figure out his plans?” It seemed impossible that anyone could have something to hold over Dazai.

He laughed darkly, no humor within in. “I had a few eyes on him, but I was waiting for some definitive proof. He’s been here for quite a while, and he questioned why he never promoted.”

Dazai rolled his eyes, never understanding how people could be so foolish, could let emotions rule their decisions over logic. 

You nodded, understanding as you wiped his lips clean, erasing all traces of blood from his pores. Once his skin was fresh, he leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss that nearly had you dropping the cloth back into the sink. 

Dazai pulled away, smoothly, even when you had been left breathless. “Don’t worry about it, my love.”

“The mafia is important to me too." You scrunched your features. “If something’s going on, I want to know.”

Dazai smiled lazily, leaning back onto the counter, the picture of nonchalance. “If I really thought it was worth getting worked up about, I’d tell you.” He curled a piece of your hair around his finger, playing with it idly. “Why? You think I don’t trust my favorite girl?” 

You stiffened, defensive, before releasing your shoulders once more, dropping your gaze to his chest. Slowly, you began to undo the buttons of his top, the threads so stained that it was beyond repair. “I don’t know, Osamu. You keep so many secrets. Sometimes I’m not sure.” 

Dazai was quiet, eyebrows raised as he assessed you. When you reached the fourth button of his top, he grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him.

“I don’t keep secrets from you, sweetheart.” He tugged you closer, curling the other arm around your back, skirting between your shoulder blades. Dazai dipped his head, tenderly kissing your fragile collarbone, the touch so airy that it sent your heart racing. “You’re the only person I really trust. If I thought you actually wanted to know every gory detail about the torment I inflicted, then I’d tell you.” 

You breathed in, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It didn’t take much for Dazai to remind you of every reason you’d ever loved him.

“I don’t care about that,” you said as Dazai rested his forehead against your own, keeping his eyes on yours’ even when your gaze was pinned to his chest. He released his soft grip to let you continue your task, and you were swallowing, onto the fifth button. “It was just a passing comment.” 

“Maybe so, but I don’t ever want you to think that I’m hiding things from you,” he said, fiercely.

You shrugged. “I would understand if there were things you couldn’t tell me. It doesn’t upset me.” When the shirt finally became undone completely, you slid it off Dazai’s shoulders, wadding it up into a ball to discard. 

He straightened, replacing the dirtied white top with the darker, softer one. “I can tell you whatever I want.” He scoffed, sliding the black buttons through the holes. “I’m the boss.”

“I just assumed the boss would have highly classified information that had to be contained to a select group of individuals.” 

Dazai made a face at you, like your statement was completely ridiculous. He stood to his full height, tilting your chin up towards him with one long, slender finger.

“Well then, someone should’ve told you that the boss’s wife is never excluded from that group." Dazai smiled at the flush on your cheeks when you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. “You are my equal. There is nothing in this world that’s more important to me than you. Nothing of mine that doesn’t belong to you as well.” 

Sometimes, you felt undeserving of his affection. It was hard to believe that the man who owned half the city would hand that power over to you willingly, if only you asked.

Though, that grain of doubt lingered in your mind was poison, and you would fight it for as long as Dazai loved you truly. Instead, you smiled, cupping his cheek before standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “Forgive me if I forget from time to time.” 

Dazai laughed and shook off your grip so he could sling an arm around your shoulder. He was still wearing the dirtied pants, but the blood had dried, and your stomach longed for the meal that you knew was waiting for you. You could let it slide, if only this one time.

“I’ll try to remind you more often,” he said, lips grazing your temple. “I really am sorry I was late for dinner, angel. It won't happen again.” 

You laced your hand with his own free one. The touch was backwards and awkward, your palm cupping the back of his knuckles. You just needed to be closer to him, to feel the touch of his warm skin and know that, for now, his time was only your own.

With a honeyed look, you whispered the words close to his ear, slow and seductive. “I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me.”

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters? 

Sunshine Masterlist  || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension 

Warning: Graphic Language 

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.” 

Therapy. 

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it. 

Everyone.

“This is training,” the doctor smiled. “Training of the mind.” 

You visibly cringed. They’d made sure to give you the most disarming person they could find. Kind eyes, an easy smile and a relaxed posture. They looked vulnerable. If the doctor was the most fragile in the room, then it would encourage you to step out and spill your trauma with tears and snot bubbles. Not you. 

You sneered, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees. “Being chosen to be my therapist is a shit go, Doc.” 

“Actually,” the corner of their lips curled upward. “This’ll piss you off more but I’m doing a friend a favour.” 

You blinked, surprise snatching the next crude words from your tongue. The doctor leaned back into their chair, clicking the pen a couple of times as if emphasising a point. As you stared at them, they stared back, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren’t as vulnerable as they seemed. 

“Laswell?” You queried. 

The therapist snorted softly. “Price.” 

Your spine straightened, a deep sense of anger twisting violently within your chest. 

Price. 

“Ooh,” the doctor tutted softly, leaning forward in their seat. “Didn’t like that one, did you?” 

You sneered at them, your eyes narrowed and your walls higher than ever. What did they know about what you liked and disliked? What did they know of your relationship with Price? 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you had it your way, you wouldn’t talk at all,” the doctor frowned. 

“Then take the fucking hint.” 

Their gaze trailed over your body, taking in the way you leaned away from the conversation. You were an open book and no matter how aggressive the mask you wore was- you were readable. With a huff, the therapist tossed their notebook over their shoulder lazily. It clattered onto the bench behind them, scattering the miscellaneous items in its path. 

“Alright, Birdy. Let’s go off the record then,” they gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “You’re shitty with Price.” 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about him-” 

“You feel like he��s betrayed you.” 

You blinked, fingers trembling even though they were curled into fists. The overarching thought that had been plaguing you for weeks was picked apart by some random fucking doctor. The words were out, you weren’t the one that had said them but they were in the air anyway. It felt good to hear them aloud rather than the screaming thought over and over in the recesses of your mind. 

“Yes.” The confirmation was bitter on your tongue. You waited for the doctor to shut you down, you waited for them to monologue about how your feelings were childish and unprofessional. They were providing you this service as a favour to the Captain, you could only assume that they were friends. 

Instead, the therapist simply nodded. “I would too, Birdy.” 

You loosed a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

“What was your name again, Doc?” You rasped, eyes narrowing. They shifted in their seat, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject but willing to share nonetheless. 

The doctor shot you a smile- genuine this time.  

“They call me Saint.” 

____

While you didn’t appreciate being ambushed with it, therapy hadn’t been as bad as you’d imagined. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in an attempt to release some tension as you walked.

Every day, you were required to present to the doctors office for a psych appointment. 

Every day, Saint had picked your thoughts apart bit by bit. 

Although you hadn’t intended to talk, you realized quickly that Saint didn’t just look disarming- they were disarming. There was no judgement as you spoke, not when you told them about your murderous nightmares and not when you told them that you’d wanted to beat down the new sniper. 

They only nodded, explaining that it- surprisingly- was natural to feel like that after what you’d experienced. 

You felt validated. 

Less like a liability and more like a recovering victim. 

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt as you laid eyes on the kitchen, the light spilling from the open doorway and out into the hall. You raised a brow at the sight, knowing that only one person would really be awake at this time of night. 

Ghost. 

The flutter in your chest caught you off guard, the thought of seeing Simon had you excited. It’d been a while since you’d both last spoken, a hand on the shoulder as he muttered a “see you soon,” and a “be safe.” All that, right before he boarded a plane with Sunshine in tow. 

“Yeah,” the newest sniper had winked at you with a curved smile. “See you real soon, gorgeous.” 

You hated them, you were sure of it. They were nauseatingly glib, each word rolling off their silver tongue with all the ease but no truth. You couldn’t believe anything they said, you’d be stupid if you did. 

As you approached the kitchen slowly, you heard hushed voices. They were arguing- aggressive and quickly spoken. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunshine snapped, their words breathless. “For the rest of our time here, this is how you want it to be?” 

From what you’d seen, the new sniper had a reputation for being self-posessed and controlled. They wanted to watch you unravel beneath their sentences, but in order for them to do that they’d have to be unphased by whatever’s thrown at them. 

Right now, there was no sign of that person. 

“What “I want it to be” is you doing your fucking job and me doing mine." The hostility in Simon's tone had you taken aback. You’d never heard him so aggressive towards a teammate and for a split moment, you felt bad for Sunshine. 

“It was!” The sniper shouted, their exhaustion and frustration painstakingly clear. 

“You were reckless.” 

“I was saving you!” 

“I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost finally snapped. The sound of something clattering followed by Sunshine’s sharp breath had you tense. “I don’t need anything from you.” 

There was a soft touch against your shoulder and your heart stuttered in your chest. Fear electrified your body as you spun around. A hand pressed down firmly against your lips, suffocating the scream rising from your throat. 

König’s eyes were narrowed, his head ducked so that he could meet your gaze head on. The look he gave you was accusatory and shame quickly flooded your cheeks. Your fingers came to rest shakily against his wrist, pushing weakly against his hold. 

His brows pulled into a frown. 

“Are you asking me to just let you fucking die?” Sunshine rasped, their seething voice reminding you of where you were. König’s eyes drifted from yours to over your shoulder aimlessly as he listened to their conversation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ghost drawled. You could hear him struggling for control, the way he drew each breath like it was painful. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The sniper exclaimed. “If it was Birdy instead of me today you wouldn’t have an issue with it-” 

“But you’re not Birdy,” Ghost snapped, “are you?” 

Silence flooded the space between you all. 

You felt ashamed of yourself. You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, you were listening to a conversation that you were never intended to hear. This was something personal, the hatred and electricity between Sunshine and Ghost forbidden for your understanding. 

König must have come to the same conclusion. The man shot you a hard stare, his hands falling from your lips to grip your shoulders. He guided you backward quietly, trying to provide an escape that wouldn’t alert them to your presence. 

“No, Sir,” Sunshine’s voice was faint now as you pulled away from the two. “I’m not Birdy.” 

You knew then that something had changed. It was in their voice, it was in the air, it was in the venom of their words- it was a suffocating emotion that you knew too well. 

They were hurt. 

But, hurt breeds bitterness and there was nothing but hatred in Sunshine’s final words. 

I’m not Birdy. 

König sucked in a breath and you knew that he’d heard it as well. When he finally managed to pull you both through the doors of your dormitory unscathed, he let you go. There was no gentleness in his expression this time when he appraised you. 

“What were you thinking?” He growled, running rough fingers through his hair. “That was wrong.” 

“I know,” you whispered, shaken. 

“You shouldn’t have been there,” König continued with a large step away from your quivering body. He was riled up and his anger stimulated your own. Who was he to lecture you? 

“You shouldn’t have been there either,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

König shot you a stern look. “I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t find you eavesdropping, naseweis.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. While you weren’t falling apart at the sight of him anymore, it didn’t mean that you wanted to be around him. You still wanted nothing to do with König, no interaction, no contact- nothing.

“I don’t need you, of all people, lecturing me on being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you threw over your shoulder as you walked. There was a huff from the man behind you, then the fall of his footsteps following in suit. 

“Doesn’t the incident make me an expert on that?” König questioned from beside you, keeping pace as though it were a leisurely stroll. You glared up at him, forcing the growing rage clawing at your chest to stay caged. 

“You think it’s funny?” You hissed. “Am I a fucking joke to you?” 

“Of course not!” König’s voice hardened. You both rounded the corner towards your room, it felt like the quicker you moved the easier it was for him to keep up. Another infuriating feature that the Austrian possessed, you’d add it to the already mile-long list. 

“Then why can’t you just leave me alone?” You spun on your heel, facing the beast head on. “It’s like you’re everywhere, König. I can’t escape you, I enter a room and you’re there. I turn a corner, you’re there. I go to sleep and there you fucking are.” 

König raised a brow, leaning his shoulder against the frame beside him. “I’m not stalking you, Birdy. If that’s what you’re trying to imply.” 

“Is that why you’re standing in my bedroom doorway?”

The man’s spine straightened as he took up his own weight, emerald gaze pinning you to your place. It was as though he were surprised, as though he was just now realising that he had been following you. Your chest was heaving as you glared up at him. You wanted him to deny it, to tell you that you were imagining it all- you wanted to be angry. 

“You’re a worrying person,” König finally said. The words almost sounded like an admission, although of what you were unsure. You jaw tightened as you retreated another step back into the safety of your room. 

“No,” you corrected, “you’re a worrying person.” 

König sighed, letting the silence fall in between you for a beat. There was conflict across his expression before finally his eyes narrowed. He stepped into the room. 

Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you?” 

There it was. 

It was the question that plagued you as you lay in bed every night, staring at your bedroom door. Or lack thereof, you should say. There was nothing on the hinges, not since König had kicked it down. 

He’d thought you were in danger. You lay before him, unconscious and dreaming. He could have done anything, he could have finished the job. 

But he didn’t. 

König’s head tilted as he observed you, watching you struggle for an answer. His fingers lightly brushed against your forearm and you froze, eyes wide as you stared up at him. He was so tall, dominating every space he entered. He was a giant amongst men, a god. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you, Birdy?” König said again. He didn’t lean down, didn’t drop down to your height this time. He wanted your answer, he wanted you to look at him and take him as he was- he wanted the truth. 

“No,” you whispered. 

The truth. 

Your body trembled as though the room had dropped to subzero temperatures but your skin was on fire. Heat bloomed across your chest, racing the length of your spine, neck and cheeks.

König’s eyes softened and he swayed backward lazily, as though he were drunk fighting for his balance. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. He didn’t ask why you were still afraid, he knew that was an unfair question. He never expected you to be comfortable with his presence. 

But the shift between you both was tangible. 

“Am I right?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, desperate and vulnerable. An offering, an olive branch an extension of trust. 

 Something washed over the man before you, something you’d never seen before. His gaze was ferocious, jade fire burning beneath those lashes as it scorched your skin. Determination tightened his jaw and his thumb brushed across the skin of your arm like a promise. 

An unspoken response. 

Yes. 

Your breath left your chest as you took another step away, suffocating in his presence. König inhaled heavily, his hands falling back to rest at his sides. 

“I still-” You began, twisting your fingers anxiously. 

“I know.” 

You still hadn’t forgiven him. 

There was a long way to go, but now the path had changed. Rather than there being a straight road, shrouded in hatred, there was a fork. A split in the path that required a decision, one that you weren’t quite ready to make yet. 

König cleared his throat, softening his stance with conscious effort. It was as if he remembered that he was meant to be disarming. Watching the huge man try to shrink himself for your comfort was surreal, nothing like what you’d imagined when you’d first laid eyes on him after your recovery. 

Ghost had never made himself smaller for you when you came out of hospital. He was slower, gentler, as though dealing with a frightened animal- but he never pretended to be something that he was not. 

“Do you think they heard us?” You changed the topic as your mind fell back to Ghost and Sunshine. “How would we explain that?” 

König blinked, clearly glad for the break in intensity. He shifted backward, moving to make his escape as your interaction came to a close. For once, he was the one running from you.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he muttered, an ironic smile playing at his lips. “They won’t have a hard time believing that given our history.” 

 The man offered you a nod, fingers tapping against the door with finality- his own farewell. You were glad that he hadn’t said ‘goodnight’, that he hadn’t bothered with niceties. You were not friends. Not allies. 

You weren’t sure what you were. 

When he disappeared around the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall, you finally let yourself relax. Jitters skittered across your body, the remnants of electricity from your confrontation buzzing beneath your skin. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The words struck a chord of discomfort within you. 

They followed you through your night routine, plaguing you in the shower, lingering as you made a cup of tea, whispering sickness as you laid in bed. They made you nauseous, they made you dizzy, they were disconcerting. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The whole accident had been such a tragic coincidence, a monumental mistake. Almost impossible in an environment where communication is key, everything working in perfect tandem to ensure your demise. 

Throughout the length of your military career, you’d always been taught to never take anything as chance. If a bush rustled beside you, there was a possibility that it was an animal- but also that it could be an enemy. If there was a light beneath a door, it could have been left on or there was someone waiting for you on the other side. You were taught not to trust coincidence. 

The failure of comms, the false intel of a sniper on a roof, the unexpected of KorTac, the largest soldier of their team being sent to find you- all of it was a perfectly timed but tragic coincidence. 

You tossed in your bed, trying to drown the thoughts from your crumbling mind. It seems you didn’t need a nightmare tonight to bring on terror. Your resolve began to slip, the sudden sense of dread gripping you by the throat. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

You wanted to rake the thoughts from your brain with your bare fingers. You wanted to rip out the connection you’d made and go to sleep in bliss ignorance.

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The way König had brought it up, the way he’d said it, maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe you weren’t as insane as you felt. Maybe your thoughts weren’t as unreliable as they seemed. You clenched your jaw, nails digging into the skin of your palm hoping that the pain would pull you back from the edge you teetered on. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

Wrong for both you and König … but, as you lay staring at your missing door, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was all just right for somebody else.

[em-ontv]

One for the Other

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader

Summary: a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the golden snitch within James’s reach, but he had to let it go…

Warnings: brief mentions of injuries, some uses of offensive language?, uses of y/n.

Author’s note: sooo I searched it up bc I was confused on James’s position in Quidditch (chaser in books, seeker in movies), so for this piece I just wrote him as a seeker. There’s some foul play from the Slytherin players, I did not write it in means of bashing on how Slytherins are EVIL and WICKED, it’s just there for the plot :)). Anyways, enjoy, English is not my first language so there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand.

Word count: 834

———————————————————————————

The sun was shining high in the sky, a golden ray over the Quidditch pitch as players wearing red and green scattered among the pitch, zooming through the air as the Quaffle was thrown from place to place. The stands were filled with students and staff, cheering. The tension was palpable, the scores were so close.

You were a chaser on the team, flying high on your broom, trying to keep an eye on the Quaffle. Your movements were sharp and precise, ready to intercept any Slytherin chasers from making passes.

James whooshed through the air, catching a glimpse of the golden snitch that he, as the seeker, was supposed to catch. But it wasn’t long before the Slytherin seeker saw him and went out for the snitch too.

Your eyes followed James, and in the span of a few seconds being distracted, a Bludger had slammed into your side with a sickening THUD, knocking the wind out of you and sending you tumbling off of your broom.

The world seemed to turn black as you fell from such height, the crowd’s cheers had disappeared, and you felt a blinding pain radiating from your side. Your body was just about to meet the ground, but before you could hit it, you felt a pair of arms wrap you, cushioning your fall…

James had seen everything, he was inches away from catching the golden snitch, barely able to graze it with his fingertips. Victory for Gryffindor was within his grasp, but when he heard the impact of a Bludger, followed by the sight of your fall, he abandoned his chase without a second thought. He dove towards you, pushing his broom to its limits to reach you in time.

His arms had wrapped around you, guiding the both of you to a somewhat controlled crash onto the grass below. A quiet grunt leaving his lips as the sharp sound of a whistle rang throughout the pitch, the game came to a halt.

“Are you alright, y/n?” James tried shaking you, but you were unconscious. His face inches away from yours as he examined you for any injuries – of course there were injuries.

“Hey, y/n– y/n?” his eyes were wide with worry as he held you, a tense frown on his face.

Some of the staff had hurriedly made their way to the pitch, so did your teammates. The Gryffindor team gathered around both you and James, their faces filled with concern. Even the Slytherin players seemed taken aback, though one of their beaters looked more smug than worried.

“We’ll need to escort her to the Hospital wing, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall said, while a few teammates pulled a stubborn James aside as he refused to leave you.

And so you were ushered into the Hospital wing on a stretcher.

The rest of the match was canceled, leaving many of the Slytherin players to murmur in discontent.

A day or two later, when Madam Pomfrey finally let James in, he was carrying a few things; a chocolate frog in his hand, and a few bruises and a broken nose. He sniffled a few times at the discomfort of the bandage on his nose before making his way to your bedside, sitting down.

“Hey, y/n, brought you something,” he handed the chocolate frog to you, his eyes scanning over the bandages on your abdomen, a frown inevitably forming on his face.

“And you also brought wounds. What happened, James?” you asked, with your usual bits of sarcasm that brought a light laugh out of him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” he insisted, shaking his head, though he pursed his lips nervously when you shot him a glare. “Alright, alright, it’s not nothing, ‘kay? I got into a fight with Avery.”

“The Slytherin team’s beater?”

“No, the Slytherin team’s beater who gave you some bloody broken ribs.” he grumbled.

“Idiot, fighting with him won’t do anything,” you scolded, albeit gently because your ribs were too sore to allow you to start shouting at him or sit up on the bed.

“That twat deserved it,”

“And you also got hurt,”

“He got more hurt than I did!” James exasperated, his hand subconsciously rubbing his broken nose.

The two of you stayed silent for a few seconds before he spoke up again. “Guess what?” A grin made its way up his face, his fingers drumming on the Hospital wing bed.

“What?” you sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of your face.

“They’ve rescheduled a rematch for next month. So when you’re all healed up and good to go, we can beat them again.” he wiggled his eyebrows, earning him a smack on the chest from you. “Ow?” he groaned.

“You better not give up the snitch next time,” you scoffed, but a chuckle left your lips, unable to be held in. “Stupid.”

A look of mock-offense spread across his face at that, his lips parting into an ‘o’ in disbelief, but he was rendered speechless, watching you as you unboxed the chocolate frog and took a bite.

[peachybeom]

hickeys ♡

slight suggestive

beomgyu x reader

You stared intensely at the empty bottle of concealer in your hand, as if your continuous gaze would magically refill the product which was now hollowed out inside it.

Defeated, you set down the bottle on the slab and inspected yourself in the large mirror situated in front of you.

You were dressed in a strapless black dress, for which you had saved up for almost an entire month.

Your makeup was light but sophisticated and hair rested gently on your shoulders in long beachy curls.

This look was as admirable as you can present yourself to be, and you were satisfied with it- until your eyes again travelled to the giant reddish blue bruise imprinted firmly on your neck.

You cursed your luck, when you found out that you had run out of the concealer, one you usually used often to cover these love bites, because everything else in your makeup kit just seemed not to be doing the trick.

You tried everything-using three different shades of foundation, excessively rubbing your skin with a toothbrush, even spraying your hair stiff to hide the sore spot but nothing seemed to be working.

You let out an irritated scream and slammed your hands loudly on your vanity.

Today was one of the most important day in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. You two had been going out for almost an year and Beomgyu’s parents had invited you to their yearly business celebratory dinner.

You knew this dinner was a big deal because it was supposed to be attended by important people along with family, the higher ups who held valuable assets in Choi Businesses so naturally you had planned well in advance, picking out your dress weeks ago, practicing civil conversations one could have with their boyfriend’s parents again and again in your head so you could leave a good impression on them.

“Is everything alright babe?” Beomgyu asked in a concerned tone.

You turned to look at your boyfriend and your breath almost got caught up in your throat.

He was still in the middle of getting dressed, hair slicked back neatly and shirt buttoned up halfway through the top.

Choi Beomgyu screamed perfection, without even trying.

You quickly brought yourself back to reality and scowled at him.

“This is your fault,” You said pointing at the hickey now almost turning red.

It was indeed his fault. Last night Beomgyu acted unusually needy and demanded attention. One too many glasses of wine later you both found yourselves on the couch exploring every crook and crevices of each other’s body while a marvel movie played out in the background softly.

Beomgyu stepped closer, and bent slightly almost closing the gap between the two of you.

“Wha-what are you doing?” You stuttered at the sudden proximity.

“Hmm I think I could have done better,” Beomgyu responded in an amused tone, touching your neck gently.

“Beomgyu!” You slapped his arm and pointed at the clear bottle placed at the side of your table.

“I ran out of the concealer and now I have no idea how to cover this up, I’ve tried doing everything-oh my God we only have an hour and half left!” You panicked burying your face in your hands, this was not how you planned to start your evening.

“Hey hey hey it’s fine we will figure something out,” Beomgyu said holding your hand in his, biting back a smile.

The truth was that you were making a big fuss of the party. Though today was an important day, Beomgyu knew that his parents would adore you as soon as they met you.

They wouldn’t mind if you didn’t act perfect- nobody would but still he let you plan and plot every move for tonight just because he thought you looked cute doing it.

“Let’s try looking up on the internet yeah?” Beomgyu said in an attempt to calm you down.

After a few minutes, there you both sat on the floor of the bedroom, makeup brushes and palettes scattered everywhere in the room.

“How about we cover it up with a band aid?” Your boyfriend suggested as he scrolled through his phone searching for remedies on hiding hickeys- his search history similar to a teenage girl who just spent the night at her crush’s house for the first time.

“No that would look too odd,” You responded pouting.

“You know what I think I should just give up and change into something else, even though this dress costed a fortune,” You continued in a disappointed tone.

“No I found something! wait a minute,” Beomgyu exclaimed loudly before getting up and leaving the room hurriedly.

After a while Beomgyu returned with an ice filled bowl and sat down next to you.

“Tilt your head,” He ordered.

You carefully obliged and closed your eyes involuntarily when the small block of ice came in contact with your skin.

“I’m supposed to rub it on the hickey for a few minutes and it will disappear,” Beomgyu explained, but you hardly paid attention because the sensation of the ice mixed along with his breath on neck for even just a second had you on cloud nine.

A few minutes would be torture.

Beomgyu seemed to have caught on your reaction and decided to tease you further.

He purposely added another ice cube between his fingers and your neck and applied slight pressure causing it to melt faster.

“Almost done, just a little more,” He whispered, lips grazing your ear seductively.

You bit your tongue in response holding back your breathe successfully.

“Or we can speed it up a bit,” Beomgyu moved closer to your neck and gently licked the droplets of water forming just on top of your hickey.

“Oh my god,” You let out breathy moan, tightening your grip on the chair next to you.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you Y/N?” Beomgyu smirked as he moved his lips upwards to nibble at your ear.

You tried to reason with yourself, reaching out for Beomgyu’s hand which was now slowly making its way towards your cleavage. He applied a bit more pressure pressing the now melted cube of ice to your hot skin, this caused you to squeak.

“G-gyu...”

He was right, you couldn’t ask him to stop, you won’t ask him to stop. Maybe if you were in the right state of mind you would, you both had to leave in an hour and neither one of you were close to being ready- but to hell with it, you thought as you grabbed Beomgyu by his shirt collar.

“No don’t stop,” You pleaded, eyes filled with desperation.

This was enough of a response for Beomgyu to pull you towards him and hurriedly pull down the zip of your newly bought dress.

You were late to the party- fashionably late, as Beomgyu described it.

But you had a good time. With Beomgyu by your side, you seemed to have bonded well with both of his parents.

His mother adored you, continuously passing lovely comments, few directed especially at the slick turtleneck dress you were wearing that night.

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated - pt.2

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings! Non-canon violence, not sure if this counts as pollen trope but hunter is a little feral, knife violence, blood, gore, substance abuse, hinting at but not committed non-con

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You were barking out orders the moment your feet hit the tarmac. Droids scattered everywhere, scrambling to gather all the supplies you needed for immediate deployment. Realizing you were nearly out of everything (you didn’t know it was possible for five men to go through so much bacta gel), you knew you had to restock. Working with a special forces unit, you knew no one was going to question or stop you. You rested a hand on your hip while scrolling through the last of your checklist on the datapad.

“Pip!” Tech’s voice rang out across the filling tarmac. “I've got your things!” He strutted up to you, holding your duffle bag with all your belongings.

“Thanks, Tech,” you smiled and took it from him before unzipping it to fill it with more supplies.

“I tried my hardest to find that face cream you like, but the labels were very confusing, so I just put both of them in there,” he rattled on, clearly distressed he couldn’t decipher them. You giggled, “It’s alright, Tech. Thank you.” He visibly calmed, knowing he hadn’t failed you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, shoving more feminine products into your bag from the surplus bins.

He pushed up his goggles, looking at his datapad. “I believe we're heading to a star system called the Crait system in the Outer Rim Territories. It’s a mining planet. Hunter didn’t say what the mission objective is.”

You hummed and zipped up your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

“So much for shore leave, huh?” you joked.

He just huffed and followed you out of the rows of medical surplus supplies.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he sounded uncomfortable. You knew expressing his feelings was difficult for Tech.

“It’s alright, Tech,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“No, I mean I just didn’t understand what was so embarrassing about mentioning Commander Wolffe’s obvious interest in you,” he rattled on, “But after discussing the implications with Hunter and the others, I think now I understand why that was making you uncomfortable.”

You just stood there, chewing on your lip, praying he’d be done soon.

“Though I understand it to be factual that an alpha male would find you attractive. You are, in fact, a prestigious example of an omega female, and judging by the fact that all of our implants are due for replacement, the urge to mate grows stronger by the day, especially in the presence of such an omega.”

You waved your hands, “Okay. Okay!” You forced out a chuckle, “I accept your apology. But please stop making me think about the Commander.”

He quirked his head, scenting your discomfort.

You just sighed and linked your arm with his while making your way back to the Marauder. He was unsure what to do with this sudden physical contact. He swallowed thickly, feeling his heart race.

"It wasn't just about Wolffe," you whispered in his ear, hoping Hunter wouldn't hear, "I was also embarrassed because talking about my sex life in front of my commanding officer is very awkward."

"Ahh, I see," he nodded, understanding.

"You want things to remain professional," he added.

You nodded and patted his arm, "Exactly."

"That makes sense," he concluded.

You physically relaxed, knowing he finally understood. For someone so intelligent, sometimes the point hits him right in the face before he sees it, and even then… It made you laugh, especially when he didn't understand some of Crosshair's innuendos or dirty jokes.

When you finally approached the Marauder with your parade of droids behind you carrying your supplies, Echo waved his scomp arm at you two before you broke away from Tech to finish up your job. Wrecker popped his head outside, asking if you needed help carrying everything inside, which you gladly took him up on his offer.

"I gotta go change!" you announced, tossing your bag back into your bunk before fishing out a fresh uniform. You stalked to the back of the ship, sliding open the fresher door. You locked it behind you and began to strip. Pulling off your civilian clothing, you folded it neatly before shimmying into the medic uniform. The white tunic just ended past your bum and secured nicely with a belt around your waist. You then slid on the white leggings and black combat field boots on top. You laced them tightly before standing. You looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself a once-over before leaving the fresher.

The others were just finishing up the final refueling when you left the fresher. You wished you could have washed away the remaining alpha stench, but such luxuries were forgotten when you received the orders to leave again.

Brushing past Crosshair on the way out, you slid past him, making your way to the storage bins. Wrecker had dropped off your restock, and you made haste putting everything in its correct location before stowing and locking the compartments. You also took the time to restock your personal pouch along with the field bag that everyone seemed to use.

"Everything set to go?" Hunter asked as he settled into his seat behind Tech's Pilot chair.

Tech confirmed, "We can begin the crosscheck now."

Hunter nodded to Echo, who made sure all of the airlocks were functioning and the life support was in optimal health. You clambered back to your jump seat and buckled in.

Before you knew it, the Marauder was up in the air, climbing altitude quickly before passing through the atmosphere and reaching cruising speeds. Crosshair returned to the main cabin with firepuncher in hand, along with his cleaning kit. He sat down at the table and began taking his precious rifle apart. 

You unbuckled from your seat and slumped down slightly getting comfortable.

”So, what are we doing now?" Echo asked, peering up from the copilot's seat.

Hunter stepped forward, pressing the cylinder drive into the ship's console. In front of you all, a holomap of the Crait system appeared. Hunter zoomed in on the planet the system was named after and specifically honed in on a particular part of the glowing orb.

"Apparently, we're to investigate a missing research party." He zoomed in on one of the mountain ranges on the stark planet. "They disappeared two rotations ago."

"What were they doing on Crait?" Tech asked.

"That was classified," Hunter groused. "It probably had to do with mineral deposits. That seems to be the only thing of value in this system.”

You stared at the projection of the planet, feeling your stomach churn a bit. Something didn’t seem right; it wasn’t common to hear about research parties going missing. Commando groups like your own, sure, it was part of the job, but scientists? There must be more to this, clearly. The Jedi deemed it classified. You shook your head. General Skywalker would have never settled for such little information.

"And we’re just supposed to do what exactly?" Crosshair raised a brow. "Look for a bunch of lab rats?"

"They wouldn’t send us if it was just looking for scientists," Echo crossed his arms. "They’re not telling us for a reason."

Hunter nodded in agreement. "We’ll be there at 0700 hours. Prepare for the extreme. We have no idea what we’re walking into. Get some rest. We’re going to need it." Hunter walked over to the extra weaponry cabinet and grabbed a pistol.

He walked over to you and held it out to you, "I know!"

You raised a brow.

"I know you don’t like blasters," he sighed and held up a handful of leather straps. "But I don’t know what’s out there."

"Does she even know how to use one of those?" Crosshair paused cleaning fire puncher.

For once, you agreed with the sniper. "Sarge, I’ve never received training. I’m much better with my injectors and bandages."

"For me?" He pleaded with you. You could see how worried he was. "Please."

You sighed and relented. He knelt down, straightening out the leathers before holding them open for you to step into. He pulled them up until they were snug around your thigh. He looped the top strap into your uniform belt and settled the blaster into the holster.

"Aren’t you just going to tell me to stay on the ship anyway?" You reasoned.

"Yes," he retorted, "but if something happens, I don’t want you totally helpless."

"What are you expecting to even happen out there?" You were getting worried now.

He stood up and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you. "I’ve heard stories about the Crait system. We all did when we were trainees." He let go of you. You looked at your shoulder briefly; this was the most the Sergeant had ever touched you. "I’m hoping they’re just stories. But I would never forgive myself if something happened to our own."

You just nodded and decided to leave it there. You were in no mood for ghost stories. You just looked at Crosshair who shook his head skeptically before returning to his work.

You decided to let them come up with their plans while you went to sleep while you still could. Kicking off your boots, you settled into your freshly cleaned bunk. Gonky waddled past leaving you in relative silence. The blaster on your hip felt heavy and cold. You sighed, knowing Hunter was just being a good Sergeant and an Alpha. He was a protective one; you realized that was in his nature.

Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to relax into the cot, pulling your blanket up over you, leaning into the rumble of hyperspace. Feeling yourself doze off, you gave in and allowed yourself to sleep.

You must have been out for a while because when you woke, the boys were just finishing up their meals. You could smell it from the bunks. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, smearing makeup everywhere, but you didn’t care. You stretched and checked your data pad for the time. You only had about an hour and a half before reaching Crait. You stood up and in your socks, you scooted out of the bunks into the main cabin and plopped down at the table, still exhausted.

“Do you guys ever sleep?” You mumbled, pulling out the ready-made ration pack and placing it into the heating unit.

“Significantly less than natural-born humans,” Tech informed. “It’s part of our design to require less sleep.”

“Yeah but just because you require less doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” You heard the ding and removed your pouch of food. “Sleep is nice.”

“That is true,” Tech replied.

Echo pushed his cup of caff in your direction with a smile. You gladly took it and shared a sip or two while you dug into your food.

Crosshair and Wrecker understood what you were saying. The two were slumped up against the sidewalls of the ship, having fallen asleep at some point doing whatever they were doing. Crosshair clutched firepuncher to his chest like a baby. You snickered. It was a little concerning how much he loved that thing.

“So, Y/N?” Tech began while scrolling through something interesting on his data pad.

“Yeah, Tech?” You chewed a mouthful. The beans and rice were delicious. This was your favorite ready-made in the supply kit.

“When was the last time you had a heat?”

You spit out your food and choked on the remaining bits still in your throat.

“Oh my maker.” Echo reached forwards, handing you a napkin and a cup of water.

That woke up the boys. Crosshair growled with displease.

“What the hell, Tech?” You screeched, sputtering to catch your breath.

He looked confused. “What? I didn’t mention the Commander nor is this pertaining to our earlier conversation about Hunter.”

Oh my maker. You could kill him.

“What about Hunter?” The Sargent poked his head out from the fresher.

“Nothing. You are not relevant to this question,” Tech replied, turning to you like nothing was wrong with asking a question like that.

“Why the hell do you want to know that?” You whisper-yelled.

“Well, I was thinking. You got your replacement suppressor implant earlier today and it made me think about how it’s recommended that an Omega has one breakthrough heat every six months per standard solar rotation time. And well, you’ve been with us for six months now. It would be putting you right in that window and I thought I should ask since none of us were able to get our replacement implants on such short notice.”

You blanched.

“First of all, I’m actually going on about two years without having a heat.” You then pointed a finger up in the air. “Second… I beg your finest pardon?”

“Pardon granted,” he nodded. “We have not received our replacement-”

“I heard you,” you snipped. Whirling around, you faced all the boys in the cabin now.

“Was no one going to tell me this?” You looked around at all of them. “I leave you alone one time. ONE time! And everything goes to shit? I’m literally trapped here with five Alphas and no one said anything?! For maker knows how long?!”

Wrecker looked scared. He’d never seen you yell, and he’s never smelled such sour distress rolling off of you in waves before. He fought every nerve in his body to scoop you up and squeeze you.

“It was a mistake, ad’ika.” Hunter stepped forwards.

“No! No. Don’t ad’ika me.” Your accent was terrible. You didn’t even know what it meant.

“No need for distress,” Tech cleared his throat. “We were given these.” He holds up a pill bottle. They all four of them pulled it out of their various pockets. “Suppressors.”

“We were scheduled for our implants in two rotations, this is all they could give us on such short notice.” Hunter used his soft voice with you, trying to give you some kind of solace.

“And how many did they give you?” You crossed your arms.

“Enough for three cycles,” Echo replied, putting the bottle away.

“You’ll be okay,” Hunter assured, “We all will be fine.”

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing your pouch of beans and your spork. “The second we get back to Coruscant I want you all in that medical bay or I swear to the maker I’ll cut you open and do it myself.”

Echo cringed.

“Sorry.” You waved at him. You knew he and Wrecker didn’t particularly like medical stuff. You also knew Wrecker tends to act like a raging bantha when there's any kind of injectables nearby.

“Did you say you were going on two years-” Tech chirped.

“Oh my maker, Tech! I’m banning you from talking about any of my medical history!” You wailed.

Crosshair chuckled from his seat, and you spun around to glare at him.

“But I-”

“No!” You pointed your spork at Tech. “You’re officially forbidden.”

You huffed and shoved a big spoonful of food into your mouth, determined to finish it before you touch down. You cannot believe that this is how your day has gone so far. From almost going home with Wolffe to now discussing your lack of anything in front of your team… and your Sergeant. You could have imploded. Luckily the others gave you some mercy and returned back to their tasks, letting you eat in silence.

But now that Tech had mentioned it, you started thinking about the boys. They too were recommended six-month ruts for performance reasons, and you knew that out of all of them, Crosshair was the only one, that you were aware of, had partaken. Actually, every time you’re on shore leave, he disappears for a week, coming back smelling like a different female. The others, however, you weren’t entirely sure, unless they were far better at hiding it.

You only had confirmation because Cross actually needed bacta for his back one time. She had clawed her way through his milky skin like a feral nexu. He had asked for help, surprisingly, one random morning.

“We’re on approach.” Echo spun around in the copilot seat, waiting for Tech to take his spot in docking the vessel.

You scrambled to chuck your wrapper in the trash and wash off your spork before putting it back in the drawer. The others got ready for descent, and you folded your legs up, watching the white planet come into view. The more you passed through the clouds, the more you realized it was a glittery white barren planet.

Crait.

Home to absolutely… nothing.

Upon descent, Tech brought the Marauder down on a flat plateau nestled next to a pretty large hillside. From your view through the cockpit, there was literally not a soul out there. No plants, no animals. It was a little jarring. What was Hunter so bent out of shape over?

Once Echo released the door to the Marauder, you were instantly hit with a bit of cool air. The air, however, had a strange scent to it.

Hunter immediately cringed, bringing his arm up to block his nose.

“It’s salt.” He coughed out struggling to adjust.

“Salt?” Wrecker stood up, pushing Tech out of the way before trotting down the steps. Upon putting his boot on the ground, there was a light crunch sound. He scrapped his boot, revealing a deep crimson rock underneath. What an odd planet.

“What are your orders, Sarge?” You asked, standing up to stretch.

He slid his helmet into place, relieved to have the air filters. “Echo and Y/N stay on board in case we need backup… or a quick pick up. The rest of you are with me. Let’s make this fast I want to get out of here as quick as possible.”

“I didn’t see anyone at the coordinate point when we landed. I think we should start there and hopefully Hunter can track them down.” Tech slid his helmet on. Crosshair and Wrecker were quick to suit up and follow them down the steps outside.

“Echo, can you close the door? It smells.” You asked politely. He was happy to oblige and seal the door, watching the four brothers stalk their way towards the coordinate points.

You stretched out in Tech’s chair, spinning around before settling on Echo.

He side-eyed you nervously.

“So…” You raised a brow. “You got any good gossip for me, domino?”

He sighed, knowing where this was going… He spun to face you and put his boots up on your armrest. “Naturally.”

You smiled wickedly.

~~~

"This has to be the weirdest planet I’ve ever been to," Wrecker couldn’t help but kick the salt around, watching the red appear.

“This planet is really messing with my head," Hunter said, bending down to place his hand on the surface. Instead of being able to single out little electro currents, he could feel the entire planet pulsing. It seemed to be drowning out everything else. He felt more blind than he ever had. 

Crosshair peered down his scope, looking at the steep mountainside they were supposed to be scaling to get to the base camp.

“It has to be mining operations. I can’t seem to fathom what else it could have been," Tech looked around at the geography.

When they reached the foot of the hill, they looked up at the skinny crag they’d have to walk through, and Wrecker sighed. He hated heights. The four clones pressed their sides into the side of the mountain as they walked very carefully along the narrow path. Down below were nothing but red stalagmites jutting up from the earth. One slip and that would be a nasty fall. Wrecker just kept mumbling to himself to not look down as the inched closer to their destination.

“Anything?" Tech asked Hunter, who just gave him a defeated shake. Tech sighed. Hunter was usually the most valuable part of their expeditions. 

“We should be arriving soon," Tech looked up from his tablet, noticing how the narrow walkway gave way to a massive cave-like structure tucked into the side of this vast canyon.

Inside this cave was a pristine Republic research vessel, along with a few tents set up with various tables filled with scientific research machinery. Everything was untouched, but abandoned. Hunter could tell by the smell of the food still sitting out on their plates it had been left alone for at least a day. The others filed in to start investigating the scene. Tech noticed that the footprints seemingly led deeper into the cave. He slid his infrared visor into place and began scanning the entrance to the tunnel.

~~~

“Oh my god, Echo!” You howled, watching his pale face light up pink. “You did WHAT with Fives?!”

“It was one time!” He justified and looked up at the ceiling. “We were young and had never even seen a human female before. She was also an omega and us clones had no clue how we’d even react in their presence.”

“Ahh!” You giggled. “Was it fun?”

He bit his lip. You shook your head with a playful look.

“Have you ever shared before?” He asked.

“Me?” You laughed earnestly. “No way. First of all, I'm too busy for one, let alone two.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” He nudged you with his boot.

“Oh my god, Echo.” You slapped his shin. “I didn’t know you rolled like that.”

“No one does,” He laughed. “Except the Domino Squad.”

“You were living a wild life before the 99s. I can’t believe you never told me that.” You giggled, standing up with your comm. It had been well over an hour and you hadn’t heard from the others.

You pressed your comm, “Hey boys, just checking in?” You waited a few moments before calling out to them again. “Must be the mountain range,” Echo pointed out.

“I’ll give it a few more minutes,” You settled back down in your seat.

He sat up a bit straighter now, looking at you directly with crossed arms. “Now tell me about Wolffe.”

He smiled devilishly.

~~~

“No lifeforms are coming up on my scanners,” Tech informed.

“I haven’t seen anything but salt,” Wrecker looked around, putting his hands on his hips.

“So what?” Crosshair drawled. “It’s not like they vanished. They had to have gone somewhere.”

As if on cue, Hunter heard the telltale sound of someone rustling coming from the cave. He didn’t think twice before taking off after the noise. He ignored his brothers’ protest and continued after the sound. The echo of crystals tinkering filled his senses, and he disappeared deeper into the cavern. He turned on his night vision as he stalked the sound.

“Hunter, wait!” Crosshair called after his brother, but Hunter was determined. He groaned watching the oldest of them trot off into the cave.

Hunter heard the sound off to his right this time; it was much closer. He zeroed in on a narrow passageway and slowly approached. A distinct smell filled his senses… Death.

Pulling his gun out, he rounded the corner to find a small woman curled up in a ball, covered in crimson dust. A beta from the look of it.

“Ma’am?” He asked, kneeling down and lowering his weapon. She was shaking and trying her hardest to hide from him. Looking around, he noticed that there were a couple of deceased members lying around the cavern in various positions.

“What happened?” He demanded, noticing how they all wore Republic uniforms, including the scared scientist. She just trembled in shock. Her blonde hair was mangled and her clothes were torn in some places.

Quickly, the others filed in behind Hunter, coming into view. The woman hissed in warning, and Hunter decided to back off a bit. She was definitely frightened.

“Ma’am, we’re with the Republic. They sent us to find you,” Hunter tried to assure her.

“The Republic,” She tested the words on her tongue. “They have to know!”

“Know what?” Tech asked inquisitively.

“They-they…” She looked around the cave like she was seeing things. Wrecker followed her gaze noticing she was seeing things that weren’t there. 

Hunter realized she was probably traumatized, shell-shocked. He elected to try and coax her out of her sitting position. He reached up and unclipped his helmet, bringing it to his side in an effort to help calm her. When the woman finally looked back at him, she shrieked in pure horror before grabbing a handful of the dust below her and throwing it harshly in his face before scampering further into her hiding spot.

“Get away!” She was screaming at the void now. 

Clearly, she was hallucinating. 

Hunter sputtered and swiped at his eyes, trying to knock the powdery red off of him.

“You good?” Crosshair asked, helping knock the dirt off of him with a few slaps with his gloved hand.

“Argh,” He growled, feeling the particles sting his eyes and nose. It had an odd taste that was starting to take over his senses.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” Tech stepped forwards, holding a tranquilizer pen he stole from Y/N's pouch. She flailed when he injected her, but it quickly took effect. She slumped back down into the ground in a heap. Tech monitored her vitals as she slowly came back to something considered normal.

“I think his tattoo scared her,” Wrecker pointed out. Especially to someone on a deep trip like her, he probably looked like a monster.

Hunter decided to leave Tech and the others to sort out the survivor while he went outside to try and wash the dirt from his eyes. 

Yanking off his bandana, he grabbed his canteen and leaned over to pour it over his face. He used his free hand to yank off his glove and rub at his skin and eyes. 

“Kriff,” His heart was racing. He took a deep breath trying to dislodge it from his sinus’.

When he was certain he got it all, he closed up the canteen and wrung out his bandana. The world suddenly started to move strangely. Hunter tried standing up straight but the red rocks all round him started dancing with the wind. He wavered and clutched at his collar suddenly feeling restricted. 

“Tech, something is wrong,” He muttered, but he was forced to slump down onto the abandoned research table. 

Tech didn’t hear him. 

Hunter’s skin started to crawl, and his sense of smell was starting to go into overdrive. He could smell everything. The beta women, the earth, the crystal critters lurking just out of view, Wrecker’s day-old blacks and sweat. He could smell the gun oil residue on Crosshair's fingertips and Tech’s hair gel…from under his helmet. 

He was smelling things he knew he shouldn’t be, not from this distance. 

He rolled over off the bench onto the floor on his hands and knees into the loose salt. Suddenly, he felt the Alpha in him take over control. His chest puffed up as he fought for control. He was being reverted back to basic instincts, and he knew his grip on reality was slipping and slipping fast. He was heaving, trying to keep some control but the panic was taking over.

“Cross!” He cried out, but he knew his brother couldn’t hear him.

~~~

You were flushed, admitting to Echo that you had actually thought about it. Like really considered going through your heat with the Commander, had you all types of blushed.

"And imagine, you'd all would have had to have a sub-in if that had happened." You shook your head.

He laughed at you, knowing you hate this kind of stuff, which made it all that much funnier.

“Do you like him?” Echo asked.

“I don't know him,” You shrugged.

He clicked his tongue, “Well, that's not really a requirement, is it?”

You just slapped his shoulder, “You’re a slut, Echo. You know that?”

He just put his arms behind his head, “What can I say, Cyra’ika? I’m an alpha.”

“You’re not all like that,” You jabbed.

Echo rolled his eyes, “You have no idea. Back in the old days me and the boys had some stories…” He smirked.

“Mhmm,” You giggled and tried the radio one more time; this time, you opened the door to the ship and stepped outside, hoping the radio signal would be stronger.

“Tech? Hunter?” You called out into the comm, “Cross? Wrecker? Someone come in!” You shifted your weight onto one foot and looked at the little comm device.

You heard a series of clicks coming through the radio, then you heard Hunter’s broken voice.

“Ugh,” You shook the comm, “Signal’s trash… Hunter?”

“I-I… open… I-I need,” His voice was stuttering through the static.

“I think he wants the side door open,” Echo said, trying to boost the signal.

You nodded and trotted down the ramp, taking out your binoculars. You pointed them in his direction, but still, you didn’t see any movement. Hopefully, they were able to find the scientists and you can finally return home for your real shore-leave, maybe even take the Commander up on his offer. You giggled to yourself, lowering the binoculars.

You heard a little jingle and looked down and yelped.

A small little crystal fox stared back up at you blinking its amber eyes curiously. 

“Hi there,” You said, slowly lowering your binoculars. The small creature stepped forwards before quickly nipping onto your shoelace and tugging it loose.

You twitched, bringing your leg back afraid it would bite, but instead, it chirped and darted off under the ship and towards the mountain range jingling as it ran.

“Hey, Wait!” You shouted and ran off after the little guy, “Hold on!”

~~~

“Where’s Hunter?” Crosshair asked, looking around the cave.

Wrecker shrugged, and Crosshair decided to go looking for his brother. When he exited the cave, he noticed the fresh tracks leading away from the abandoned camp and the overpowering smell of an Alpha… in rut.

He followed the tracks until he reached the mountain pass.

Crosshair grabbed his comms and radioed in, “Hunter! Come in!”

He trotted back to the cavern and grabbed Wrecker, “Hunter took off, c’mon, we gotta go now.”

“You have to warn the Republic,” The woman grabbed onto Tech’s uniform.

“Warn them about what?” He scanned her body, noticing the telltale signs of elevated heart rate, dilated eyes, and nervous twitching. The woman was high as hell.

“The minerals. T-they’re…” She looked out at the members of her team, “It’s toxic.”

The three soldiers all looked at each other, knowing Hunter got a good dose of it and with his senses, he was probably coming unglued.

“What is the substance?” Tech asked.

She looked at him, “Unrefined Spice cut with-” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fainted.

“Shit,” Crosshair wasn’t liking this one bit.

“I got her. You guys go get Hunter,” Wrecker picked the lady up and let the others take off running after their infected brother.

Tech and Crosshair wasted no time sprinting out of the cave and towards the narrow pass.

~~~

You had heard Echo radio for you which made you halt in your tracks. The crystal fox scampered away disappearing into a narrow crevice the mountain side. 

“Get back here.” Echo sounded worried, “There’s someth-” He was cut off. 

You spun around realizing you had ventured far from the ship. You sighed and bent down to re-tie your combat boot before taking off in a jog back to the Marauder. Jumping over a couple smaller boulders you made a beeline for the ship. 

“I’m coming Echo!” You radioed back and scurried up the steps, “What’s going on?” 

You looked around but the ship was silent. You narrowed your eyes and peered around the corner of the cockpit into the main galley. You heard a strange muffled noise before drawing your weapon. You flicked it to stun before holding it up suddenly overcome with nerves. 

“Echo?” You called out softly into the back of the ship. 

Suddenly Hunter’s head popped out from behind the bunk door. You sighed and put the gun back into the holster and pointed a finger at him, “Sarge you scared me half to death.” 

He approached, “I wouldn’t want that omega now would I?” his voice sounded strange. You raised a brow watching him get nearer. He looked disheveled. His grey armor was covered in a crimson substance and his hair was all over the place.

“Hunter are you okay?” You asked reaching for your pack. 

He lunged forwards and grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You yelped out trying to snatch it back but he just pulled you into him before throwing you backwards against the dining table. Echo’s caff and various plates went flying and clattering onto the ground. You yelled out in pain as your back collided with the steel surface. He stalked up to you grabbing you again and you tried to shove him off not understanding why he was being so rough all of a sudden. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Hunter however was deathly precise in his movements. 

“Hunter what-” You started, but he grabbed your neck and slammed you flat to the metal table before going for your wrist. You thrashed around trying to throw him off of you but he was too big and too strong. Your head was pounding from the impact. He settled in between your thighs pushing his hard pelvis into yours sedating you. 

“Stop fighting me omega.” He leaned down using his free hand to pin your arm to the table. You whined feeling him clamp down on your neck. He was starting to hurt you. The panic was setting in. Something was very wrong with Hunter it’s like he was possessed. 

You used your free hand to back hand him as hard as you could. His head snapped to the side with a crack. He growled making your insides churn. Thats when you noticed his pupils. They were beyond dilated. They nearly absorbed his entire eye, you were staring back into endless black holes. 

“Hunter get off of me!” You kneed him in the side making him gasp and cough knocking the wind out of him. You had a split second to get up and you took it. Ignoring the aches in your body, you shoved him back, he struggled to catch his breath and you turned to run. Making your way down the main galley you went for your bag to grab the tranquilizer. 

“Omega!” He used his alpha voice. You had to fight the submission. Every cell in your body wanted to bare your neck and submit to him but you fought it. This wasn’t Hunter. Hunter would never do something like this. Especially not use his tone on you… ever.

“Come.” He demanded standing there gripping his side while he caught his breath. 

You ignored him and kept rummaging for your pack, “Where the fuck is it?” You couldn’t believe it. You always left it in your duffle. 

You heard his heavy foot steps approaching when you decided to go for your stun gun instead. When you had a good grip on the gun, your feet were yanked out from under you. Hunter was way too fast and trained. You landed with a thud on the hard durasteel floor dropping the pistol. He was dragging you out of the narrow galley back into the main cabin. Thats when you noticed Echo knocked out on the floor next to you. He must have found Echo first before he realized you weren’t in the ship.

“Hunter!” You kicked at him with the other leg, “Stop! This isn’t you!” 

“Omega.” He growled out getting on the floor and kneeling on top of you. He placed a calloused hand on the back of your neck keeping you pinned with a squeak. You could feel his hardness pressing into the plush of your ass and you whimpered. He was in a manic rut. You felt him lean down getting closer to your scent glands. He reeked of pheromones. You were practically choking on it. You concluded he was defiantly in a rut. You had to get out of here. 

“Omega… smells w-wrong.” He shook his head trying to get a better sniff. 

“Hunter please!” You whined feeling how hot his breath was on your neck. His smokey scent was everywhere and it was starting to consume you. You could feel your body starting to react to these pheromones and you cursed yourself. He no doubt could smell you. 

You were suddenly flipped over onto your back roughly making you whimper on impact. Tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes as you filled with fear. His face didn’t even look like his own anymore. The softness he reserved for you was gone and all that was left was the animal that lived inside him. 

He leaned down and licked the stray tears off your face with a hum. You pressed your hands into his chest pleading with him to let you go. He pinned your hands down to the durasteel and shifted his weight so he could shove his nose into your neck where the fresh implant rests and your mating gland. He growled disapprovingly and used one hand to tear your shirt collar and rip the bacta patch off of you. You shrieked as it burned. 

“Hunter!” You cried begging for him to get control. 

He looked at the incision menacingly before reaching to the vibro blade on his sleeve. You realized whatever infected him, reverted him back to his primal instincts and one thing between him and a rut was your implant. You flailed helplessly under his weight trying to get away. He tore your uniform top down the seams revealing your bound chest to him.

“Tech!” You screamed, “Crosshair!” You prayed they were close behind. They were probably the only ones strong enough to stop their brother.

Hunter leaned down pressing the tip of the sharp blade to your smooth gland. When the tip met your skin you screamed in pain feeling him lightly pierce your skin. You felt the hot blood running down your shoulder making his nose flare. You screamed in agony praying he’d just get it over with. Your voice broke with your screams.

“Wrecker!” You wailed hoping they’d hear you and that they were in a much better state than this. 

You screamed again feeling the tip of the blade remove the implant as it clattered to the ground. You shuddered starting to feel dizzy from the blood loss. He leaned down to lick the cut spreading his alpha pheromones into your open wound. He tried purring in an attempt to comfort you, but the death grip on your neck didn’t help in any way. You reached down to his thigh searching for anything to help you. He nuzzled your neck again licking at the wound like a corellian hound. 

You knew he kept another blade on his belt but you were struggling to find it. Then when you brushed up against his side, you noticed he still had his gun. In a flash you brandished his pistol pressing it into his side. He was still purring totally unaware when you made your move.

“I’m sorry.” You cried then pulled the trigger. 

He looked at you stunned for a moment before slumping back onto his heels and releasing you. You took a deep gasping breath then sobbed realizing what you did, but he fell back against the side of the ship letting you scurry up to your knees. You turned his weapon to stun and unloaded on him. You stared at his limp body shaking in fright that he’d get up again at any second.

“Y/N?” Tech’s alarmed face appeared in the entry. You fired a few stunning shots at him without thinking but he retreated in time. 

“We’re not infected!” He yelled putting his hands up. 

You lowered the gun and fell back against the leg of the table Hunter had wrangled you onto just moments earlier. You let Hunter’s gun clatter to the ground. 

Crosshair and Tech entered the ship looking alarmed at the scene. 

“I shot him.” You whispered. They turned to look at their stunned brother who had a plasma burn in his side a long with a fresh stream of blood oozing out. 

“You’re bleeding.” Crosshair ran to your side taking his helmet off and reaching for your collar. You flinched making him second guess his movements. He had no idea what Hunter had done to you, but from the blooming bruises around your neck and chest, he was starting to put som pieces together. 

Tech scanned Hunter and determined the shot not lethal. He helped Hunter onto his back and started removing his armor while Crosshair tried to clean your wound. 

“What did he do to you?” Crosshair asked with anger laced in his tone. 

You just whimpered feeling the exhaustion settle in after the adrenaline wore off, “H-he cut my…” You waved at the wound, “He was like an animal.” You pointed to the little pill shaped device lying in the pool of your blood on the floor. Crosshair saw it and turned back to you. You were shaking now as the horror of everything was starting to settle in. He got up and grabbed some supplies from your bins and came back to your side. He knew you weren’t a soldier, but it didn’t make your behavior any less disturbing.  Seeing an omega cry was like having Hunter's vibro blade shoved into his chest.

“We heard you when we got down the hill.” Tech said pressing a bacta pack to Hunter’s side, “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner.” He then hooked hunter up to a liquid IV in hopes to flush his system of the drug.

You just nodded resting your forehead against Crosshairs shoulder. He quickly cleaned your wound opting to forego gentleness he was just wanting to get you patched up. Luckily Hunter made a pretty clean cut and it isn’t deep. He applied the bacta and the bandages just like he’d seen you do a hundred times. He then grabbed the pain killer injection just like last night. He distributed the medicine and continued to hold you as your shakes subsided. 

Wrecker and the sedated scientist arrived shortly after. He just stood there looking at everything bewildered. He set the lady down on a pallet on the floor before returning to his brothers. 

“What happened here?” He asked taking off his helmet. 

“It seems the unrefined spice caused Hunter’s senses to go into overdrive. He reverted back to his more animalistic instincts and attacked Y/N. He was searching for an omega.” Tech took off his own helmet. Tech grabbed a pair of binders and attached one to Hunter and the other to the cargo hold. They had no idea what they were going to get when he woke up. 

Noticing your worry, Crosshair decided you’d had enough. He bent down and scooped up your knees up and carried you back to the bunks. You leaned your head against his chest wanting to just go to sleep.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly setting you down in your bunk. He sat across from you in Tech’s neatly made cot. 

You just sniffled feeling more tears surface. Hunter was one of the men you did feel safe with. It was just any omega’s worst nightmare having a trusted alpha turn on you like that. Even though you know it wasn’t really Hunter, it was still horrifying. He was so strong. It frightened you. 

“Oh Ad’ika.” Crosshair sighed standing up and rummaging through his things. He came back with one of his civvies shirts. It was black and massive. He knelt down at your side taking his time unlacing your boots and sliding them off. He then went for your shirt gently removing what was left of the ripped fabric. You just stared at the ceiling as he shimmied you into his shirt. You settled finally and he grabbed your favorite blanket before pulling it up to your chin. You were unaware the Alpha was capable of such gentleness. 

“Do you want me to stay?” He asked noticing your shaking again. 

“I’m okay.” You croaked, “Thank you Cross.”

He didn’t fight you, but everything in his body begged him to stay and to comfort the frightened omega. He stood up and left letting the door swoosh closed behind him. 

When you were finally alone you started to wail. You cried and cried until you couldn't physically produce any more tears. Never had you ever resolved on to crying while on the job, but then again, you’d never been in a situation such as this before. 

Some time later, Wrecker came tiptoeing into the room worried that you were asleep. When he realized you weren’t, he showed you his Lula. You sniffled and gave him a little smile as he tucked lula into your blankets with you.

“Thanks Wreck.” You cuddled lula letting her comfort you. 

“Anytime pip.” He retreated back to the galley. You noticed Crosshair perched against the wall in the galley keeping watch. You sighed knowing he was at least a bit protective. Knowing he was watching over you, you relaxed a bit. Then sleep came and consumed you quickly. 

~~~

“What the actual fuck happened.” Crosshair demanded looking around the entire ship. The images of your torn up bleeding body haunted him. He might get pissy with you for your little flirting with the regs but this was unacceptable. No one is allowed to hurt an omega like that, especially his brother. It was taking all his control to not kick the shit out of Hunter’s unconscious body. 

“We need to get back to a medical base. I’m afraid I didn’t get a proper explanation from the surviving scientist. She said it was unrefined spice mixed with something else and the others seemed to have died from prolonged exposure. I don’t know what will happen to Hunter if we can’t get him back to a hospital.” Tech sat back into his chair looking at the others. 

Echo had come back to consciousness at some point and needed an ice pack for the bump on his head. He looked to tech, “Get the Marauder up in the air and radio to any of the nearest Venador fleets. We can meet them half way.”

“Better yet, I’ll call Captain Rex.” Tech plugged his data pad into the console, “General Skywalker was supposed to be stationed in the Nabooian system near by.” 

“How do you know that?” Wrecker asked rubbing his eyes. 

“The drunk 501 boys last night mentioned it while they were alluding to the General’s fascination with the junior senator. They were refueling when we landed yesterday.” Tech replied sliding his goggles up. 

“Oh I like that senator.” Wrecker nodded, “She’s hot.” 

“I don’t care what we do.” Crosshair leaned against the galley hallway, “They both need immediate medical care.” His nose crinkled at the smell of Y/N’s blood still drying on their floor.

“Agreed.” Echo stared at Hunter’s limp body. He knew the Sargent was never going to forgive himself for this. Echo sighed, explaining this whole situation just got so much worse. Hunter was probably going to want to shoot himself when he comes to.

“Being their old medic, I’m positive they won’t have an issue treating her.” Tech began the take off process wanting to get off of this horrible planet. 

“Just get us off this forsaken planet.” Crosshair grumbled walking back to the bunk doorway. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Ahh okay, I think this story is going to be a little darker obviously, but it's for the plot! haha enjoy babes.

I'm also sitting here realizing I don't think Omega will be able to be written into this story given the obvious issue with her name lol so tbd on that.

[maislovebot]

I love everything you do

Bram Stoker x reader

Title is from training wheels by melanie martinez

Hello! I finally finished the Bram thing!! I actually finished it two days ago but I’ve been so busy with work and school I haven’t found time to proofread it till now:’)

Containing: S5 SPOILERS!!, afab reader, no pronouns, oral sex (afab receiving), riding, domestic fluff & smut, porn with plot, aftercare, premature ejaculation, bath sex, hand jobs, cum eating, clit stimulation, Bram wants to bite reader but can’t for obvious reasons, very brief groping, human/vamp relationship, post-vampirism arc

Bram officially had a body now. Everything with Dostoevsky and Ouchi had been solved, and there were many changes that Bram had to figure out how to deal with.

To start, Dostoevsky is now dead, and Gogol seems to be grieving with this fact. Ouchi is also dead, and now the nation is in a panic knowing that the war hero everyone looked up to was some sort of terrorist, even if all the people personally involved knew he meant well.

Including Bram Stoker.

Bram wasn’t entirely sure how to live now that Ouchi was dead, and he especially didn’t know how to live now that he had a full body again.

But this was certainly a good way to start.

“Alright, Bram. I know things are difficult, but do you really need me to explain this again? You don’t need that much shampoo.” You sighed, seeing Bram with at least seven pumps of shampoo in his hands.

“But if it keeps my hair clean, the more I use the longer it’ll be clean, no?” Bram deadpanned.

“That’s not how it works!” You ran your hands through Bram’s hair. You weren’t really annoyed with him, but you’d be lying if you said Bram’s lack of understanding wasn’t comedic.

“The one pump I told you to use works just fine.” You laughed at him lightheartedly.

Bram looked at your naked form up and down in confusion, your body slightly altered by the swishing of the water in the bath.

“But you used a different amount than I did.” Bram looked so genuinely confused, and it was honestly very cute.

“Yes, because our hair is different. Your hair is much more sensitive than mine because of how long it’s been without being washed properly. You need a different amount than I do.” You spoke to him gently, running your hands through his hair, much more successfully this time. When you met Bram for the first time, his hair was so matted it took hours to brush through. He was lucky he met you a few months ago. If he hadn’t, he’d probably still be living life without even washing his face.

“Once your hair is healthier I bet we can start using more shampoo, but for now this is all your hair can handle.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around him. Your naked form pressed up against his chest, and he let out a small whine, so you pulled away.

“Is everything alright?”

Bram nodded.

“Yes, it’s just..” Bram trailed off, and you soon realized what he meant once you looked down into the water at his crotch.

“Bram!” You jokingly flicked his arm. “You dog!”

Bram raised an eyebrow and looked away from you.

“It’s not like I can help it.. I haven’t had a body in so long it’s overly sensitive. My body isn’t used to it, I think.”

You smiled and looked at him right in the eyes.

“We’re gonna have to fix that soon. Not yet though. We still have to wash your hair.”

“Really? Why can’t you make an exception?”

You shook your head, and kissed Bram on the neck.

“You’re gonna love it once I clean you off. Trust me, it’ll make it more enjoyable.”

Bram sighed and nodded his head.

“Alright.”

You grabbed some of the shampoo left from his hands and let the rest trickle into the water, rubbing the shampoo into his hair, gently scratching his scalp. The shampoo that fell from his hands caused the bathwater to have small white bubbles scattered everywhere. Bram rested his head in the crook of your neck, getting your chin bubbly and wet. You slowly trailed it down to the tips of his hair that were recently trimmed, courtesy of you taking him to a hair stylist for the first time in who knows how long. His hair was still long, reaching far beyond his back, but the dead ends were gone. You took the shower head and turned the notch to make it spray a gentle stream of water and aimed it towards his head.

“Turn around and close your eyes,” you warned, “it stings your eyes.”

Bram nodded and turned, his back facing you. He tilted his head up to the ceiling and shut his eyes, the warm water running through his hair and down his back. His new skin was very soft, you couldn’t stop touching it. It felt brand new (although it technically was). The water ran down the front of his face, getting his eyelashes droopy with water droplets. He really looked ethereal. The shampoo was all washed out of his hair, so he turned around to face you and rested his face in the crook of your neck again.

“I’m gonna wash your body now. It’s unscented soap because I’m willing to bet your new skin is sensitive,” you kissed his shoulder, “ just letting you know.” You smiled into his newly washed hair.

“Are you going to use hair conditioner?” He asked.

“Not yet. I don’t think your hair can handle it yet.” You chuckled, grabbing a pastel loofah. You put the unscented soap on it, and ran it under water for a short amount of time, getting it all sudsy.

“Lift your arms!” You said, and he complied. He brought his arms up and washed along the undersides of them, trailing the loofah up and down, until both of his arms were covered with the soap. You slowly moved over to his chest and you began to rub it into his chest, covering his nipples and lower stomach, at least what wasn’t covered in bathwater. He whined a little at your touch and you chuckled.

“You’re awfully sensitive.”

“I haven’t been touched at all in hundreds of years,” Bram deadpanned, “I physically couldn’t have been touched.”

You gripped his chin with your sudsy hand and brought it to level with yourself.

“I love you, Bram.”

Bram let a small smile escape his lips, and he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, pleading, and generous. He closed his eyes once his lips made contact with yours, as did you. You two stayed like that for a while until Bram moved his hand to rest on your hip, and you began to gently play with his hair. You pulled away to breathe, and Bram gripped your shoulders and pulled you back into the kiss.

You could hear Bram mumble a “no..” under his breath, seemingly saying no to you pulling away from him. You stuck it out for as long as you could before you laid your hands on his chest and pushed him away gently, the soap covering it now running down and collecting at the rim of the water.

“Sorry, Bram. I don’t have the literally inhuman stamina you do.”

“Ah,” Bram responded, recognizing your reasoning. “I forget that I can hold my breath longer than the average human.”

You caught your breath, and Bram grabbed the loofah that was floating in the water to bring it to your naked body, rubbing it along your shoulders, collarbones and your chest. You appreciated the intimacy. He cupped water in his hands and dropped it along your shoulders, watching the soap drip down your body and land in the water, almost sizzling away once it made contact. You began to reciprocate, washing off what hadn’t fallen down his body already.

Eventually, you had both washed each other's hair and bodies completely, although it took longer than normal as you both took breaks in between many of your actions to kiss and caress each other. There was only one thing left, and Bram knew exactly what it was.

“Ah— dear, it’s sensitive..”

Bram whined, your movements causing a pleasurable buzz to be sent to his brain. You were currently jerking Bram off, bringing water up every now and then to wash it off.

“Now, you see, Bram, you aren’t supposed to use soap down there. It could irritate it.

“Alright, understood.” Bram barely got out. You liked this side of him. He was strangely submissive. Obedient, if you will.

Bram was so sensitive, it didn’t take very long for him to come all over your hand with a loud moan and shaking thighs.

“Now, look at the mess you made..” you trailed off, bringing your hand to Bram’s lips.

“Clean it up, Bram.” You demanded.

His movements stuttered, but he reluctantly opened his mouth and grabbed your wrist. He licked your hands clean, tasting himself on his tongue, and you kissed him to taste him too.

“You taste sweet.”

Bram looked away from you, so you grabbed his wrist, and he turned to see what you were doing. You brought his hand down into the water.

“Why don’t you help me out, too?” You questioned.

Bram smirked, then moved his hand away.

“I think I have a better way of going about that.” Bram said as he dove his head down, his head now underwater. You knew he had more stamina than you, but you were still worrisome, so you lifted his head up by his chin.

“I love the idea of that, but shouldn’t we do that outside of the bath? You might drown.”

“I can hold my breath for up to eleven minutes. I learned when some village folk attempted to drown me in 1897.”

You bursted out laughing.

“What’s funny?” Bram questioned, looking up at you from his position of resting on his elbows below you.

“Nothing, it’s just—you went from being a menacing vampire who overruled society to..this.”

Bram smiled up at you, then moved his hand to play with your clit, and you whined, gripping the railing of the tub.

“Are you convinced?”

“Well..” You trailed off.

Bram looked at you, awaiting an answer. Not moving an inch lower.

“Fine, but you better do a good job if you wanna be done before you run out of air.”

Bram nodded, and dove his head back down, his hair floating to the top of the bath. If there was one thing Bram was good with, it’s his tongue. After all, it was about all he could use for a very, very long time. He knew just how to touch you, and you tried to ignore how much practice he must’ve had to have gotten this good.

Your sounds were muffled from his point of view, but he could faintly see your mouth open from where he was, the glare of the bathroom lights reflecting against the water making it difficult to see. He moved his tongue to lap up the precum gripping onto your heat despite the water washing most of it off. It appears your slick is more dense than water, as small amounts of it was staying in place. He teased along your outer lips, then your inner lips, before finally moving along your hole, feeling it clench around nothing. He moved his tongue up to give small kitten licks to your clit, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. The touch he was giving you was gentle, but Bram was going feral from the way your thighs quickly clenched around his head, making him move his mouth around your clit to vigorously suck on it, and you bucked your hips into his mouth, gripping him to pull him closer to your heat, and he could faintly hear you moaning from above the water. He moved his hands up to circle your inner thighs, and moved his tongue down to your hole, tongue fucking you. The movements of his tongue were slow and calculated, as they always were. He gradually switched between sucking your clit and fucking you on his tongue, and whenever he switched he would move his hands to either finger you or rub circles on your thighs, depending on what he was doing.

The way you clenched your thighs around his head and pulled his hair made him bring a hand down to jerk himself off, desperate from the way your body language spoke to him. You finally came, and it only took him about four minutes.

He could faintly see your cum taint the water, so he moved his head up, breathing heavily as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, I thought you said you could hold your breath long enough..”

“I said I can, not that I should.” Bram kept breathing heavily.

“Bram..” you gently scratched his scalp to calm him down, and once he caught his breath again, he took the opportunity to kiss your collarbones and shoulders, refraining from biting you.

Oh, the things he would do if he was able to bite you without turning you into some mindless, bloodthirsty animal. He instead settled for grazing his teeth over your shoulders, but light enough for it to tickle more than anything, and definitely not drawing any blood. You whined at his movements, wrapping your legs around his hips, and he sat up, grabbing your hips so you’d go up with him, making you hover over him. He laid his back against the side of the tub, and you got the signal, so you jerked him off a few times before dipping yourself down slowly. This is the first time you two were doing anything past him giving you head, as at the time, that’s all he really could do.. and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. He’d had hundreds of years of experience, and you wondered how you could compare. But if anything, Bram was twice as nervous. He hadn’t had sex in so long he could guarantee he was extremely rusty, and sensitive. He knew he wouldn’t last long.

Regardless, you continued lowering yourself down until you were linked by the hilt, and you felt full. But you also felt so happy to be linked with him. You let out small whines, his size getting to you. Once you two get more practice with one another, you could figure out how much foreplay you’d need to not be in pain, but for now, the sting is tolerable.

“It’s shockingly clean.” you remarked, laughing.

“Well, it is brand new..” he replied, and you bursted out laughing, and Bram looked at you funny before chuckling along with you.

“I swear, you say the funniest things sometimes. But I am curious,” you looked down at where you two were linked, “does it look the same as it did before? Or is it like a new and improved situation?”

“I believe it looks the same, but I don’t remember exactly what it looked like.”

“Damn, I guess you were just born lucky.”

Bram lifted an eyebrow,

“What do you mean?”

You leaned down to kiss him, before lifting your hips up slowly.

“It’s very pretty. Just like you.”

Bram always melted at your praise, and you knew this. His grip on you tightened, before he pushed you down onto his length all the way again, and you let out a loud moan.

“O-oh, God, Bram—”

He kept his grip on your hips, pulling you up and down, before thrusting his hips to meet you halfway.

You slowly gained more control over your actions again, he was still pulling you up and down, but you wrapped your thighs around him tighter, going along with the actions, moving yourself up and down with him. He moved his face forward to kiss and lick your nipples, and you cried out. He used his dominant hand to help you keep your balance, and used his other hand to toy with your clit, and the overstimulation really got to you, making you almost cry a few times. Bram on the other hand, was actually crying. He was so overwhelmed, in the best way possible. He hadn’t felt this sort of touch in so long, and here you are, being his saving grace. It also simply felt very, very good. He could feel that he was close, and he sped up his actions inside of you, before cumming inside of you. His hips slowed, and he felt overstimulated, but he simply couldn’t leave you unsatisfied, so he took a deep breath and kept going at it. The overstimulating feeling made him cry out, his mouth no longer connected to your chest.

In total, he had managed to come two more times before you finally did. As he predicted, he wouldn’t last long. His cock had turned an angry shade of red of the overstimulation, but he didn’t care. He simply needed you to come. And once he finally did, he moved his hands away to grip the sides of the tub, breathing heavily. You two sat there for a short amount of time, before you lifted yourself off, mostly his, and a little of your cum dripped out of you and into the water and onto his stomach.

Your thighs gently shook, and before you could move any further, he gripped your shoulders and pulled you down to kiss him, and he moved his hand down to toy with your clit.

“I need.. I need you to come at least one more time.”

You wordlessly connected your lips to his, diving your tongue inside of his mouth, licking along his bottom lip every now and then. You gripped his arm tightly whenever he rubbed your clit in a particular way that made you go crazy, before he moved his fingers to tease your entrance, kissing you desperately. He placed two fingers inside of you, curling them and dragging along your walls, still playing with your clit with his thumb. You had come twice only a few minutes earlier, so it didn’t take you long to come with a silent scream. You grabbed his wrist, pulling it up so he couldn’t touch you anymore, the overstimulation getting to you. You wordlessly licked his fingers clean, and he watched you, the sight making him hard yet again. Once his fingers were clean, you intertwined your fingers with his, licking along his neck desperately, then kissing him again.

Needless to say, you two went at it even longer, and once you two were done you were both shaking and trembling in each other's hold, your breathing heavy.

“I love you, B-Bram—” you slurred your words, but Bram got the idea. You loved the way he tightly gripped your arms. By this point, his cock was a bright shade of red, desperate for him to give it a break, his body relieved to get what it needed. Your bodies were sweaty, in need of being washed all over again, so you simply turned around and dove under the water, letting the soapy water coat your entire body, washing off your sweat. You turned back around to kiss Bram, but he held you in place with your back facing him, and he kissed your shoulders, resisting the urge to nibble on your skin. You leaned back, allowing yourself to rest on Bram’s chest. His heart wasn’t beating. As it never was, but yours was, and rapidly at that.

Bram always found comfort in your heartbeat. Something about feeling or hearing it calmed him down, it’s similar to the way that ever since he’s gotten his body, he’s been resting his finger under your nose so he could see if you were still breathing. He did this any time you slept. His hands often gently touched your upper lips, waking you up, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it cute.

Bram rested his hand on your chest, partially just to grope you but also so he could feel your heartbeat against his hand.

You two simply sat there like that for some time, relishing in each other's presence. You had washed Bram off again, and he was petting your washed hair. Over time, you two began to talk to each other again, and the conversation managed to get to Bram talking about his past stories from his prime when he was a vampire who overpowered everyone, even royalty.

“I’ve met many people in the history books, and in my personal opinion, not many of them have as remarkable of a personality as the books make them out to be.” Bram commented, and you smirked, turning towards him.

“Do you know how long you’ll be alive for?”

Bram went silent. He tried to forget it, but he was commonly reminded of how in a short amount of time, he’d be gone again. You’d be long gone by the time Bram finally met his end.

“Bram?” You waved in front of his face.

“Apologies. Because my ability is genetic, I noticed that most of my family lives for about 300 years. I’ve been alive for 190 of it.”

“Really?” You looked bittersweet, but you quickly pushed the sad feelings back.

“Our relationship is anything but conventional, but I think we can make it work.”

Bram raised an eyebrow at you, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Well, we won’t have much time together, but we can enjoy what we will have.”

Bram sat silently, taking in your words.

“That’s a nice sentiment, but I doubt I could bring myself to live without you for that long. I’d go mental.”

You began to toy with Bram’s hair, before you turned around and kissed him deeply, the kiss was meaningful and loving, and Bram shamelessly gripped the back of your hair to keep you in place, before you pulled away.

You two were silent for some time again, but then Bram had an idea.

“Wait..wasn’t that Dostoevsky man after the page of that book?”

You nodded.

“Now the Armed Detective Agency has it. If they have any space left on that page, perhaps we could negotiate for them to write down that I’ll become human.”

You jolted up, and looked at Bram.

“Would that really work?”

“Most likely.”

You hugged Bram tightly, resting your face on his chest.

“If we did that..” Bram trailed off. He was embarrassed to say it, but he simply had to tell you his plans for if this worked out.

“If we did that, me, you, and Aya could all be like a family. A normal family.”

Your heart melted at his words. Despite everything, all he really wants is to be like a father to Aya, and a husband to you. You kissed his chest, before pulling away and wordlessly draining the bath, Bram looking at you confused.

“We might as well try to convince them now! No point in waiting.”

You stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around your body, Bram soon following and doing the same.

“You’re rather motivated.” Bram remarked.

You smiled and looked at Bram, his new body completely devoid of the many scars you were sure he had before his body was detached, because he had completely regenerated.

You sat down in your kitchen and wrote down your plans on how to convince the Armed Detective Agency, and Bram nodded and made remarks or criticisms every now and then, brainstorming your plan to perfection. Bram was so in love with you, even the way your hand drifted across the paper with the pencil so effortlessly. Even your handwriting was captivating.

He wasn’t sure if these plans were going to work out, but he was determined to figure something out.

He would figure something out.

He simply had to.

Wc - 3.9k

Hope you enjoyed:)

[vampkaashis-wife]

Osamu’s latest fidgety habit is twisting his wedding band around his finger - an expensive piece of jewelry he bought for himself alongside a matching piece for you. He still can’t believe it. The simple band of metal is a testament to a life he spent years building. While he would never call it perfect, he’s fairly certain that he would do it the same if he ever had the chance.

Even with the Olympics several years behind him, he sometimes thinks about what it would be like, playing on the global stage with Atsumu. He thinks about what it would be like if he had joined MSBY too, or if he’d joined the Adlers. He wonders if he’d choose to play with Sunarin or Aran instead. 

Today, though, he’s thinking about a different possibility. 

The possibility of you saying no to his marriage proposal and walking away entirely. 

It was a very near thing, he remembers. He remembers staring at the wall, day after day, the reflections of the ring scattered along the walls. Disappearing when he closed the box again. 

“Babe?” he calls into the kitchen where you’re doing dishes. The TV is on in the living room, and you glance up every now and then to keep up with the plot, yelling What happened? every time a commotion occurs and you missed it. He never knows why you do this. He said he could wait until all chores were done to start the movie, but you insist. 

“What? Did I miss something?” you call, both soapy hands busy with a pot. Your sleeves are slipping down your arms again, and Osamu pauses the movie. “Samu, no! Don’t pause it.”

He laughs. “Your sleeves,” he says simply, coming up behind you to pull them back up your arms. The motion is punctuated with a kiss to your cheek. “Are you happy?”

“You know I hate doing dishes.”

“And yet, you do them anyway.”

“Would you rather I create a beacon for the roaches? That’s unsanitary. I need to call whoever does the inspections at the shop; clearly, we’re all missing something here.”

The shop. You say it so simply, as if Onigiri Miya isn’t one of the biggest parts of your lives now and for the last few years. “You’re the roach,” he says. “Can’t get rid of you if I tried.”

“Don’t lie, Samu. You wouldn’t ever try to get rid of me, therefore, I cannot possibly be a roach.” After a pause, you add, “And Akaashi-san likes me, so I also can’t be a roach. He hates those. Now get off me, you’re in the way.”

He knows you’ve missed the question, but he’s sure he knows the answer all the same. A year ago, you shared a kitchen in tense silence, a fundamental unhappiness permeating the air. A year ago, you tried to throw all this away - through no fault of your own. It had been an awful time for you both as you transitioned out of student life and into the next thing, and yet…

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

In quick motions, you put up the final bowl you washed, rinsing around the sink before dangling your wet hands in it to keep the floor dry. You twist a little to look at the man next to you. “I know. I love you too.”

Before he can say anything even more pathetic and lovestruck, your phone rings. Shaking your hands off, you locate your phone. Samu watches you frown before drying your hands and picking it up. He knows who it is before you even say it. “Hey, Dad.” 

There it is, another one of the winds you always summon. They’re less of a hurricane than they used to be, though. More of a strong beach wind. He finishes cleaning up the kitchen while you’re on the phone, although there’s not much left to clean. 

He’s proud of you, he thinks. Proud of himself, too, but mostly of you. The first year of marriage isn’t easy, but after planning and executing such a large scale event with and emotionally drained you and your tense family, he thinks you’ll be alright. You smile more now, he realizes. You have more to say about, well, everything. 

Then his phone rings. Atsumu. “What do you want?” he calmly asks his phone. 

Atsumu immediately starts chattering into his phone. It’s hard to hear him over the crowd in the background. “Oi! Pick me up.”

“Where? Why?”

“Afterparty after we beat EJP. Sunarin forgot about me and went home first.”

“Shitty of him.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a shithead.” 

“Couldn’t you ask someone else?”

“Samu!” he whines in a truly atrocious voice. Osamu pinches the bridge of his nose as his twin keeps talking. “You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you.” Osamu sighs. “I’m not anywhere near Osaka, idiot. I wouldn’t be able to make it there for a few hours. I don’t want you to wait that long, not if you’re drunk enough to be calling for a ride home.”

A pause.

“Oh yeah. I meant to call Omi. I’m not drunk, by the way.”

“How do you make that mistake and not notice? You literally said my name.”

“I never claimed to be smart.”

“No one would believe you if you did.”

Another pause. 

“Fuck you!” 

“That’s the best thing you could come up with?” Osamu knows his brother can hear the raised eyebrows, even at this distance. “Call literally anyone else; I’m off duty.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that after dinner is Wife Time, and you’ve lost priority.”

“Piece of shit,” Atsumu mutters. Soon after though, he says in a voice too soft to be anything but loving, “Samu? I’m proud of you. You’re not making it easy for me to be the happier of us.”

For a moment, Osamu feels tears prickling behind his eyes. He blinks them away, instead watching you scribble something down, phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. Such a simple thing, but everything he’s ever wanted. “Thanks, Atsumu.”

[shegxox]

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."

[nametakensff]

Suggestible (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

The first fic of a few I have for these two because I am deeep into this shit now lol. Ended up at 4K!

H/arry, whilst working on the murder case in M/artinaise and ever so slowly piecing his identity together, notices an interesting reaction in K/im to his budding cold. I guess the first part of a series that will become increasingly NSFW, but for now mostly just alluding to it!

Based on an insane little piece of dialogue in the game where K/im suggests that other people sneezing makes him sneeze

~~~~~~

Content:

Future/hinted M/M, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a latent sneezing fetish that he doesn't remember having yet, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, slight elements of voyeurism but only because H/arry is a confused mess lmao

CW: lots of drug and alcohol mentions, lots of self-hatred

NB - I guess please don't read if you plan on playing the game and want to go in with no prior knowledge - it doesn't really have any plot heavy spoilers but takes place within the story

(also also - decided to write this in 2nd person narrative to somewhat resemble the style of game play - it's not perfect but it was fun to try haha)

Minors DNI please!

Lieutenant Kitsuragi trails behind you as you jog your way across the empty boardwalk and towards the fishing village. The air is piercing and bitterly cold – you are starting to feel the effects of it as the salty air whips against your face. It has been snowing on and off for hours, and you are woefully underdressed. This has not been a good day for you – few new leads, endless dead ends. And a hangover. The hangover to end all hangovers. Not even the frigid winter weather can distract you from the dull thud of a lingering headache, painful pulses beating in time with your heart. It feels as though your brain is too swollen – or your skull is too tight.

Suddenly, you feel it – the familiar, fluttering sensation of a building sneeze. You have been a little under the weather ever since you awoke in your hotel room several days earlier, having no recollection of who you are and woefully bereft of substances to abuse. You had put any subsequent discomfort down to just that – the miserable lack of alcohol, nicotine and narcotics in your system. This tickle, however – it is something all of its own. You stop dead in your tracks, practically skidding to a stop as it crests. You have no hope of holding back the encroaching sneeze. Your mouth hangs open, a great yawn of irritation, before – at last – release.

It comes out sounding more like a desperate shriek than anything else; a few startled seagulls scatter, flying away in a maelstrom of confusion and feathers. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but the cold air, the breeze, and now the beginning of a miserable cold – it all proves too much for you. You take in another shuddering gasp before you’ve even recovered from the previous explosion and do it all over again.

“HAAAEEEIISHHHHhhh!!!”

There are no seagulls left to scatter this time, but you hardly notice for the way this sneeze, even more violent than the one before it, sends you flying forward and staggering on your feet. You manage to catch yourself before you fall face down on the sandy ground, panting slightly in the aftermath. It practically tore itself out of you, leaving your throat more than a little hoarse. Perhaps a drink would be just the thing to remedy your misery…

You’re shaken out of your alcoholic deliberation by a familiar, soft voice. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is resting a gentle, gloved hand on your shoulder, hovering next to your crouched form. His voice is as placid as always, but you can’t help but notice a slight hint of concern. You right yourself immediately and snuffle at the mess that’s threatening to overflow from your nose, already a bright shade of red from years of alcohol abuse and the biting cold of the beach.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

The Lieutenant notices the thickness of the sound, a barely perceptible look of displeasure passing over his face. You see him reach into his pockets and pull out a large handkerchief – the very same you have seen him use before to cover his face as you performed a field autopsy together. He proffers it to you and you hesitate for just a moment - then your nose starts to run into your moustache. This prompts you to take it from him and snuffle into it apologetically. You realise this pathetic sniffling will do nothing to stem the flow – you surrender and blow your nose with as much conviction as you possibly can. The sound of it is devastatingly loud, almost as disruptive as the sneezes preceding it. You glance at Kim sheepishly from behind the material. If it’s as disgusting to Lieutenant Kitsuragi as it sounded to you, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

When you’re finished, you offer the soiled fabric back to him with an outstretched hand. He looks at it with mild dismay.

“You keep that, officer. I carry a spare with me at all times.”

Stupid. That was stupid of you. Why would you hand him a snot rag? You dismiss the thought before the negativity drags you down further into the already miserable grips of your hangover. But for whatever reason, you keep note of this new information regarding the handkerchiefs. It’s not as though this is out of the ordinary for Kim. He’s so organised and focused – a great cop. Not like you. Of course he would carry a spare. Moving on, you ask the lieutenant for his opinion of what you ought to do next.

“Hm…We should return to the Whirling-In-Rags. Try Klaasje again and see if she’s ready to discuss the murder in more detail.”

It sounds like a perfect idea to you. The wind is fiercely cold and you never did get round to buying a windbreaker. Your hangover is making it impossible to tell if the major discomfort you’re feeling is from the alcohol dissipating within your husk of a body, or the virus threatening to take hold of your sinuses. Either way, getting out of the cold is imperative.

You approach the vicinity of the Whirling-In-Rags Hostel – at last. Your chest burns. Normally, a brisk jog is nothing to you – if anything, it energises your ailing body after a particularly lengthy binge. But today, you feel miserably worn out. You pause for a moment, look towards the Lieutenant, and attempt to speak. You fail, nothing but a series of wheezing gasps issuing from between your lips, followed by an increasingly hacking cough. You buckle over your knees and continue to hack like the washed-up middle-aged man you know you are. Kim places a hand on your back - he seems worried.

“This isn’t good. You’re unwell, detective. Perhaps you should rest a while in your room?”

Something tells you this isn’t a suggestion exclusively for your own benefit. A perfunctory glance tells you that Lieutenant Kitsuragi is tired, and as miserably cold as you. He wouldn’t mind a break inside a warm building, thawing out over a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, you feel disappointment blooming in your chest. As if you weren’t already a pathetic excuse of a policeman - missing memory, decked head to toe in questionable clothes and with a penchant for drug and drink on the clock – you’re now so weak you can’t even handle a mild case of rhinovirus. Pathetic.

You stand upright in an attempt to signal that you are and always have been a perfect beacon of health. You tell the Lieutenant that time is of the essence; you’ve been working on this case for days and have no time for further setbacks. He acknowledges this with a small nod; he seems to appreciate this professional, business-like approach to the matter. He doesn’t say anything more but merely walks beside you as you stride towards the Whirling-In-Rags.

You barely manage to take a few steps before the tickle is upon you again. You tense your jaw and attempt to quell the sensation by taking in shallow, measured breaths, but no dice. In seconds, it tears its way out of you as before, echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. It is so loud that you wonder if the scabs protesting outside of the Union can hear it over the sounds of their own angry chants. Again, you stumble forward under the force of it, feeling light-headed.

The Lieutenant reaches out to grip your shoulder, steadying you just in time. You wait and sniffle miserably in preparation for the following sneeze, lingering in the depths of your sinuses, but it never comes. You straighten up, blinking tears of effort from your tired eyes, when you become aware of a certain sensation. Kim’s hand squeezes your shoulder with a sudden flex. Could this be a gesture of affection? Reassurance? This is not the Lieutenant’s regular style. He is far too cool for that kind of thing.

You look over your shoulder in curiosity as the Lieutenant continues his grip, despite your having collected yourself. You can see that behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused and heavy-lidded. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is holding a fist – expectantly? – before his face. The expression is…familiar. You’d seen it before, though not on Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

As you furrow your brow in deep consideration, reaching for an explanation that only just manages to elude you, slight movement from Kim pulls you out of your thoughts. You watch as his head tilts back, stays there for a just a moment before he’s jerking forward into his gloved fist, pressing it against his nose and mouth. His features contract severely, moulding his ordinarily placid face into a twisted, almost angry and unrecognisable countenance. You feel his fingers flex again. His entire body shudders, and as it does so, you hear him utter a tiny sound.

“-hHdt’!”

You blink, still not putting two and two together. Maybe this amnesia was worse than you had initially assumed it to be. Was he – seizing? No. Of course not. You continue to watch in confusion as he seems to uncrumple with a gentle exhalation. You think he might be done, but no. Just as quickly as one breath is exhaled, a replacement is sucked back in hurriedly. You watch as he repeats the action, ducking forward into his fist again, more forcefully this time. His shoulders jump with the effort and his hand squeezes substantially harder against you.

“h’Ngxt-!! hh…”

That strange sound again – this time followed by an uncharacteristically shaky exhale.  A moment later the Lieutenant straightens up and assumes his regular composure, releasing your shoulder as if nothing just happened. If you hadn’t watched this series of events unfold right in front of you, you’re sure you would have missed it altogether. He blinks several times as if to clear away tears. Still you have no idea what the fuck just happened – any remnants of the pained expression that cinched his features tight has vanished, leaving him to look as calm and collected as before. You stare at him, eyes roving over his face. This intrusive observation gives you the last bit of information you need to understand. His nostrils flare delicately as he indulges in a sniffle, moisture gathering around the irritated rims and glittering ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.

Had those been…sneezes? Those tiny little swallows of air?! You feel a grin spread across your face, any discomfort of your own forgotten for the moment. You bless him enthusiastically. Ignoring the inkling that tells you not to tease or cajole him, you also comment on how adorable the Lieutenant’s sneezes are. Like a kitten. A badass cop kitten.

He thanks you somewhat reluctantly, blatantly ignoring the kitten comment. He clearly wants you to move on from him and focus again on the case. You continue to make your way towards Whirling-In-Rags, but don’t miss out of the corner of your eye the sight of the Lieutenant covertly pinching his nostrils shut, before pulling down towards his septum. He is wiping the resultant moisture of those sneezes away with his gloved fingers. This realisation makes your heartbeat spike for just a moment. You choose to ignore this.

You walk into the establishment – the increasingly familiar sounds and sights greet you as you pass through the door. The Hardie boys are in their booths, an unwelcome fixture. You glance sidelong at them – Titus glares daggers back at you. You think you should puff up your chest and stare him down in a battle of warring machismo, but at last minute think otherwise. It would do nothing to repair your already abysmal lack of authority if you sneezed at him mid stand-off. You glance away. He smirks, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, clearly enjoying this silent display of dominance. You get an all-consuming urge to spin around and put him in his place – but you feel shitty. Much too shitty. It would probably end with his fist in your face.

You approach the staircase leading to the bedrooms when you feel that familiar, irritating tickle blossoming anew in your sinuses. Not again, not here! Not in a busy room full of so many people. You want to maintain your cool cop image – sneezing is not a cool thing to do. You briefly think to yourself that Kim is cool, even when he sneezes - but it is a foolish thought. You’re not him. You fight to suppress the gasp that fills your lungs, fumbling in your jacket pocket for the handkerchief the lieutenant had given you – but you’re too late. Two huge sneezes rocket out of you, sending veritable clouds of spray across the base of the staircase. They practically break the sound barrier, two near identical “IIIIEEEESHHHHhhtt!!!” screams of irritation. Kim doesn’t steady you this time – you reach out and do that yourself with the help of the banister.

Jeers erupt from the Hardie boys across the cafeteria floor – you only just manage to hold back an embarrassed blush from creeping over your weary face. You have finally managed to extract the handkerchief from your pocket. You decide a honking performance will do very little to remedy this utter humiliation, dabbing softly at your aching nose instead. You begin to climb the stairs; a sordid walk of shame.

“That’s just what this establishment needs, following the hanging, bloated corpse – a biohazardous drunk anointing his plague unto us all.”

That snark came from Garte – the bartender. No, the Cafeteria Manager.

“Just ignore him.” Kim mutters close to your ear. You proceed to flip the bird at Garte instead. As you make your way upstairs, you swear you can hear a tiny gasp from behind you. Without the sensation of a hand gripping your shoulder and signalling the completion of a sneeze, you have to strain your ears to even confirm they happen at all.

“’Ngxt’ch! h’ddt’! Hh’Ggkt!!”

Those are definitely sneezes. Slightly louder than before, enough that you can hear the Lieutenant’s own soft voice blending in with the strained sound of them. Your stomach is suddenly alive with butterflies. In your mind’s eye you can visualise the way his face crumples with each of them – nostrils flaring outwards as he valiantly bites down against them. You are sure if you try to do the same, your head will explode. Or at the very least, an aneurism is a surefire possibility. You shudder at the thought of it. You want to offer a blessing to the Lieutenant, but based on the previous reception it received, you decide against it. This could be the start of a beautiful partnership – Harry’n’Kim, Du Bois and Kitsuragi. Disco Cop and Cool Cop. You can always brainstorm on your trademark duo name at a later date. Either way, you decide to ignore the Lieutenant’s strangled outburst. A soft exhalation behind you signals that he is finished – for now.

You reach the top of the stairs. With great dismay, you realise that perhaps for the first time in your life, you are experiencing firsthand the effect of all those years of chain smoking. The wheezing gasps bend you over for a moment. Lieutenant Kitsuragi stands nearby, just short of nervously hovering, waiting for you to recover. You finally catch your breath and stride as confidently as you can towards Klaasje’s room. You extend a fist to knock on the door when you feel the soft touch of Kim’s hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks. This has to be a new record. He has touched you on four separate occasions – all in a span of under thirty minutes.

“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest after all, detective.” Kim offers. You sense by the firmness of his voice that this is less of a gentle suggestion and more of a request. He smiles wryly.

“You are not very likely to get her to open up to you if you deafen her with your sneezing.”

Your stomach flips at hearing that word come out of his mouth. It is confusing but not entirely unpleasant. Whilst he doesn’t laugh, you can see the amusement held in the subtle quirking of his lips. You think for a moment that you should tell him your sneezes are the pinnacle of masculinity – ladies dig a huge, manly sneeze. You choose instead to sigh, practically deflating as any will to remain poised upright seeps out of you. You know he’s right. The filthy sheets of your bed beckon to you.

You agree with him and turn heel to your own room. He looks pleased – perhaps a little relieved. How disastrous did he think the interaction would have gone, had you proceeded? He turns to face you as you stand outside your respective doors.

“Don’t worry, detective. I will wake you up in a couple of hours, and we can resume our investigation. There is no point in making yourself ill.”

You nod. You are both about to enter your rooms when you feel it again. The tickle. It is persistent and increasingly difficult to control. You feel a gasp inflating your chest, helpless to do anything other than let the sensation overpower you. There is no time to even lift the handkerchief to your face. You do manage to turn away from the Lieutenant as the sneeze rips through you, baptising your own door with a trembling “aaAAAAEEEEGSHHHHhh!!!” A cloud of spray settles on the wood, droplets of spray shimmering under the harsh lighting. Gross.

“Bless you.”

A blessing. You feel relieved – and slightly giddy. Your stomach flips again. It is likely out of politeness, but the Lieutenant has at least not run for the hills in response to your disgusting display. You start to thank him when – oh, sweet confusion - he interrupts you with another sneeze of his own. He isn’t fast enough to bring a fist to his face this time. You can see every minute twitch of his facial muscles as he suppresses the sneeze through sheer willpower alone.

“Hh’Gnxt!! Huh’NGxtt!!”

The second sneeze follows immediately – his head dips twice in quick succession. That look of desperation suits him just fine, you think. You decide to abandon the thought as quickly as it forms. You are only partially successful in doing so. His hand reaches into the pocket of his trousers – he succeeds in removing the handkerchief in the duration of that second sneeze, you notice in great appreciation. You would never have managed to pull that off.

You watch as he raises the handkerchief before his face for a final sneeze. This one looks more irritable than the ones prior – the expression plastered on his face is openly more agonised than before. He pauses for what is likely only a second longer before the tickle reaches its apex, but that is more than enough time for another thought to cross your mind – one of an entirely salacious nature. You think that the face he is making resembles the sweet agony of another kind of release. You try to unthink it, but it’s too late – you’re absolutely, undeniably thinking it. The second passes. At last, the lieutenant smothers his final sneeze into the waiting folds of the handkerchief. It is considerably louder than before, even with the assistance of the fabric covering.

“hHh’nNGgxtt!!..chu…”

The soft vocal exclamation that rounds off the sneeze sounds weary, like it took a lot out of him. He sniffles briefly into the handkerchief, rubbing at his nose before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Is it your imagination, or is said appendage starting to look a little reddened from the effort?

“Excuse me.” The Lieutenant mumbles, sounding uncomfortable. Embarrassed, perhaps?

You bless him before you remember to bite your tongue. Luckily, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you.” You watch as he removes his glasses and swipes at a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He replaces them just as quickly, giving you hardly any time to take in the sight of him without the thick frames. It is for a brief moment only, but the word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind.

It dawns on you quite suddenly that he must be sneezing because you have infected him with your disgusting, no good germs. You ask him if this is the case, unable to hold back the shaking guilt as you voice your question-cum-self-abasement. He waves it off immediately.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, detective, I assure you. I’m fine.” He pauses for a moment, looking hesitant to say more. You say nothing. This awkward silence seems to prompt him to continue.

“Sometimes the power of suggestion is too much for me. When somebody sneezes in my vicinity, I find my body often wanting to do the same. And your sneezes are particularly…” He trails off for a moment, in want of an appropriate term.

Masculine? Sexy? Bad-ass? You go with the first one. He shakes his head gently.

“…Suggestible.” He finishes. You’re not quite sure you catch his drift, but you do recall that he had mentioned something like this before. ‘Dancing makes you dance like sneezing makes you sneeze’. He had said that, in the church – he had been enthusiastic to interject, and then immediately changed the subject. You had had no idea what he had meant at the time – not once had you ever heard anyone say anything even remotely similar. It had been easily forgotten. Until now.

You smirk. You hope it isn’t akin to ‘the expression’, but is happening nonetheless. You cannot help it. This. Is. Gold.

You manage to hold back from laughing, but what you cannot help is calling him adorable. For the second time that day.

“I’m a 43 year old RCM policeman. I am far from adorable, officer.” He states firmly, almost as if he is chiding you. You do not miss, however, the softness in his eyes and the momentary twitching of his lips into a tiny smile. You do laugh at that. Bad idea. The laugh quickly morphs into a painful, wrenching cough. Whatever light-hearted moment you’d been sharing, you have ruined it. Your throat burns with the effort. God, but you want a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some speed. You finish at last, wiping spittle from your lips with the back of your sleeve.

“Please rest, Harry. I will check up on you soon.”

He casts a final worried glance your way before nodding curtly. You watch as the door clicks shut behind him. After a moment, you make your way into your own room, not even bothering to kick off your shoes as you collapse onto the pile of twisted sheets. Far too tired to think about the past that eludes you, about the case, about any of it, your eyes start to slip shut.

But it is back. The tickle. You have no means of fighting it, and you’re not sure you want to. You sneeze, smothering it into your sheets at the last second.

“HHHRRMMMPPPSHHHh!!!”

You peer cautiously at the sheets. You have left a considerably large damp patch on the section that covered your mouth and nose. Gross – that should be your middle name. You feel disgusting, but before you can begin another spiral of self-deprecation the exhaustion overwhelms you entirely. A final thought passes through your mind as you surrender to it. Did the Lieutenant hear you?

Next door, settling into the chair at his desk, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tenses at the sound of your sneeze. It was loud enough to be heard not only the next room over – indeed, anyone on the second floor may have been startled by it. His breath hitches, once, twice, before he is tipping forward into his gloved hands, steepled around his face. Depleted of energy from the prior onslaughts, he is unable to hold them back at all.

“-hh! Hck’tshuu! Hupt’Tshhht!! ‘TSCHH’uu!! hm...”

He glances in unmasked irritation at the damp speckling of moisture now adorning the palms of his gloves.

“Merde!” He grumbles under his breath. The Lieutenant pulls the gloves from his hands, pausing to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles for one indulgent moment, before resuming the paperwork he had failed to complete the night before. He hopes, for both your own sake and his, that once he wakes you your sneezing spell will have passed – due to a temporary chill and nothing more. Neither of you have the time for this absurdity. He sniffles once more and begins to write.

[total-drama-brainrot]

psycho!noah au, what do the aftermath cast think? conversely if they dont know/dont see the show (isnt it implied to be canon in wt that they watch the show or atleast can?), how do they react to newly eliminated cast members telling them?

and then, at whatever point he gets eliminated or just whenever the cast sees him again, how do they react with that new info?

The justification I have for Noah remaining stealthed under his "stoic cynic" persona pre-reveal in this AU is a little convoluted, but I do have one. Vaguely. Which I'll try to outline here for continuities' sake.

So, to clarify; Noah only competes in Island and World Tour, just like in canon. Most things happen just like canon, with the exception of Noah lasting a little longer in Island so he and Izzy have more time to be menaces (I have no idea how I'll shift the elimination order to justify keeping him around, though). Noah's still eliminated fairly early and ends up on the Playa, where the other elimination fodder welcome him with open arms, because in Island they're only given access to the raw camera footage instead of the final cut!

I imagine it'd be pretty hard for a Brand New Show to have the manpower of a full professional editing team that can plan and prosecute the final cut of a whole ~20 minute episode in only three days (in-universe), so to keep the losers as in the know as possible in real time, they're given access to the same live camera footage Chris and Chef have, just without the confessionals.

Since the confessionals are, uh. Toilets. And no one wants to have 24/7 access to toilet stall footage.

Noah only ever really drops his ruse in the confessional, or around Izzy, so none of the losers have gotten the opportunity to see the real him in action; even when he is visible on camera, it's only during the stolen moments he shares with Izzy outside of challenges, wherein the two plot and scheme together like Pinky and the Brain. Given that the majority of them don't even bother to watch the live footage unless there's a challenge actively happening (or something else otherwise noteworthy), his true nature goes undetected amongst them as well.

And then, in Action, the show's budget and workforce increases. Suddenly, the editing team is thrice the size of Island's, and they are capable of providing a final cut of each episode within the span of 24~72 hours, allowing the show to air quicker. Which has the added bonus of allowing everyone in the peanut gallery access to the yet-to-be-aired episodes (instead of the live footage), keeping them up to date with the competition whilst also giving them the same perspective as the audience itself. Including people's confessions.

It's a good thing Noah didn't compete in Action, then. His mask of indifference lives on.

Then there's a year-long break between seasons, wherein Noah works under Chris as his personal assistant. Yada yada yada, World Tour happens. He knows that the losers are going to see his confessions. So now Noah has to choose between maintaining his persona at the sake of losing out on toying with the greater audience, or carrying on as he did in Island at the cost of revealing his 'true colours' (which, in this case, still isn't the real Noah so much as an exaggeration of his more deranged tendencies, since Noah's still essentially performing for the cameras; just with a different role).

Of course he goes with option two. He's primarily motivated by his own amusement- that was the reason for his whole charade in the first place.

(Alright, clarification over, time to actually answer the question.)

So the peanut gallery and steadily increasing number of World Tour Rejects are horrified when, in Noah's scattering of confessions- as he doesn't confess very often, so when he does it's a treat to himself and the audience- he mostly waxes poetic about how exciting each near-death experience the cast go through is, and all of the different ways he so wanted to cause the others harm (either in general, or themed around the challenges), being so much more expressive than anyone's ever seen him (concerningly so, to the point of it breaching the uncanny valley) and giddy over the prospect of performing Acts Of Incredible Violence against his castmates.

They're living in that same fearful anticipation the wider audience experienced through his tenure in Island; waiting for Noah to Drop The Act and fulfil his promises of brutal sabotage, if only to finally put an end to the constant looming threat of his self control snapping. They're horrified bystanders of a car crash waiting to happen (at least, they think they are. Noah's not actually gonna do any of the things he's suggesting, probably, but keeping the audience on their toes is one of his favourite games!) and each episode he features in is a test of both their patience and their own sanity.

Because, could you imagine watching your friends interact and be friendly with someone who (you think) is out for their blood, entirely unaware of the danger? that's literally what they're experiencing.

And Noah, because he's a little shit who thinks he's funny (he is), sometimes goes so far as to fake-out the audience by rearing up attacks against his castmates during challenges, only to shoot the nearest camera a wry wink and a sly smile as he carries on with the actual task at hand, the others none-the-wiser.

It becomes so concerning, in fact, that every new arrival is immediately checked over for any signs of injuries or Noah's Influence and hastily given the rundown on The Situation. Which is, more often than not, met with the same incredulity as Sierra's claims- until they're shown various clips of Noah's confessions, or the fake-outs and otherwise unhinged looks he teases the cameras with.

-

For the second question; I have no idea. I'm still workshopping how people will react to Noah, and how Noah in turn will react to them. Post-reveal p!Noah will, eventually, disclose the fact that he's not as bloodthirsty as he portrays himself as, but until then it's anyone's guess as to how far he'll take the bit- and who could/will get hurt in the process.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

Alright, here's the oneshot I promised! Sorry if it isn't up to your standards- my motivation was running low on this series. This might be the "Grand finale" to end it all- I don't think I'll be able to provide another part after this. I'm sorry, everyone.

Key Information: This will be in Reader's POV. The Reader has made it to the Abyss, and found out more information about themselves. They almost know who they are, but something is missing. Something big, something major.

Before they could discover what it was, though, they were captured by the Imposter's puppets after they had left the abyss, with no chance of escaping. They are being escorted to the Palace under the (literal) watch of the Imposter themself, through the character's eyes.

And the Reader sees just how much of a tyrant and evil doer this imposter of theirs truly is. And what seems to be the aftermath of Nahida and Venti's punishment.

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Warnings: Bad Grammar, Spelling Mistakes, Not Beta Read, OOC Characters, Violence, Rushed Plot & Mind Control/Mind Manipulation.

Read if you are okay with these terms. Please also let me know if I missed a warning!

I was so close. So close, yet so far.

I remember so much, yet it seems it meant nothing. It probably would mean nothing now, now that I'm caught and everything.

Just great. I'm probably going to be tortured and killed painfully. My mind is probably going to break under that imposter's will or something.

Now that I think about it, is Nahida and Venti alright? They were the two that helped me not get caught during the earlier days. I hope they're alright—but judging how this imposter is, I doubt they are.

Even more "great," I suppose. I am not ready to see how they are.

That son of a...nevermind, actually. I need to think of a plan to escape. I have all of the elements of Teyvat: Abyss, Anemo, Geo, Dendro, Hydro, Cryo, Pyro, and Electro. Mostly undetected.

Yes, surprisingly, I had managed to enter into Inazuma even though it's probably in some sort of lock down with me running loose around Teyvat. But I still got to the statue and that's all I care about.

I nearly jump when I hear the sounds of gates opening. Crap. We were here. I am literally here...at the Imposter's Palace.

Holy crap, doomsday has suddenly started to feel more deadly with each passing breath I took. It felt suffocating with each step that it took to be brought near that Palace's front doors.

Holy crap, I really might just get die today. Holy crap...

I could barely focus on anything else going outside of my moveable prison, as I try to put together my scattered thoughts to form some sort of escape plan.

Perhaps I could create an illusion of myself and quickly leave? Or maybe I can manipulate time and find a way to break through this ridiculously elemental-proof cage. Maybe I can create some form of structure to get myself out of the situation. Or maybe I can use my hydro and pyro abilities together to make a clone of myself and trick them!

I couldn't think of anything more, because, before I knew it, I was pulled out of my thoughts. I was dumped out onto the grime floor of the place I dreaded to be for all my time here in Teyvat. I catch myself, my hands stabilizing my fall under me as my knees bang on the floor.

Gosh...I'm really here. In the most ugliest palace I've ever seen, even with the colors going well with each other.

Because of that one person sitting on that damn throne as I look up. My Imposter. The one that caused everything from the beginning.

"My, my, what do we have here..." They chuckle, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent as their sinister smirk turns into a monstrous grin. "My Imposter, finally caught before me, after a good 8 months of searching. Well done, People of Mondstadt and Sumeru. You certainly don't disappoint." The Imposter's voice was off, but it was clear that they were just simply talking through the other people's voices, their voice being the more dominant one.

And besides, I doubt the People of Mondstadt and Sumeru would've been praised like that if Venti and Nahida hadn't been punished. Whatever the Imposter did to them, it must've also affected their nations as well. And they were going to pay for that.

This world didn't see any blessings, it only gained more curses. Not even the world they stood upon knew that. Not the people, not the world...nobody knew they were in a endless scam.

Not wasting any time, I direct my glare at the Imposter. I don't care if they're going to be all mock-y about it—this is the least they deserved.

If only I could remember...that last missing piece of myself...

"Getting upset already?" The Imposter chuckles. "Such a shame. We haven't even begun your punishment. Not even a second in, and you already think you're better than me, huh?" Their grin widens.

"Such a shame. I guess I'll put use to the Anemo and Dendro Archon to punish you...as a 'Round One,' of course." My eyes widen in shock. Their eyes gleam with amusement.

The audacity of this....this below-grime idiot!

I didn't even get a word in as I see two familiar figures walk my way. I don't need the Imposter to talk to know that they were under the control of the Imposter themselves. It was all too obvious by the way they walk.

It was all too obvious by that grin that doesn't suit them a single bit.

But what shocked me the most was how many bleeding scars they have. Like Xiao in the Perilous Archon Quest, Venti and Nahida bled in the colors of their elements they were dominant in. And it seems like these scars were never meant to heal—the blood was seeping onto the clothes they wore, which were slightly tattered.

It looked like they were victims that had just came out of a war zone. Holy cow.

"What the hell..." I mutter under my breath. I glare back up to the Imposter. "What the hell did you do?!"

"Hm? Oh, you're wondering about their scars?" Their smirk turns more dangerous, more forced. "I made certain...adjustments to their behaviors. After all...to help you certainly meant I had to step in."

"They're traitors!" someone said, and I feel my blood boil. "They should be blessed that the All-Seeing Creator has given them mercy—to be forever blessed under the Creator's presence and guidance!"

"No!" I exclaim. I can't help it—I couldn't take it anymore. "This—this isn't a blessing!" I gesture towards the controlled archons, who were still slowly approaching. "This is the opposite of benevolent! This is the work of a tyrant!"

"You no nothing about the Creator!" someone else exclaims in the throne room. "You dare to spread lies with your face, flinging dirt on their ever graceful image—and now you dare to question their judgement? The audacity!"

The Imposter chuckles. "See? Your efforts are futile." They smile down at me, as if they won. As if they had everything they could ever have, once I'm dead. "Now get them!" They point a finger at me, and that was all the warning I get before Venti shot an arrow towards me.

I use my anemo abilities to fling it elsewhere just in time, but Nahida was already sending dendro towards me without warning. They push me back, as I try my best to use geo to form some sort of shield.

Well crap. I guess I have no choice but to hurt them. With a heavy heart, I summoned the all the power of Anemo, stopping time so that I could knock them out.

When I let time continue, the crowd that was in the Throne Room gasped. The Imposter glared down at me with suspicion...and a hint of jealousy. Hah, loser.

"Hm. Pathetic," they mutter under their breath. "I suppose I'll just finish you myself...with a special little weapon of mine." They summon a black gadget in their hands. Turning it one with a button on the side, it glows. The Imposter smirks as they look down at my shocked expression.

No. Absolute freaking. Way.

How the HELL did they get my freaking phone?!

"How did you—" I interrupt myself, fuming. "You took my phone!" The Imposter laughs.

"Really?" They said, amused. Their eyebrows were quirked up, mockingly. "More like you were the one who doesn't know how to keep their hands to themselves. You stole what was rightfully mine, and I just got it back."

"And I'm going to make sure you regret ever trying to tarnish my reputation—my work."

— — —

The battle was longer than anyone had anticipated, but alas. The "Creator" won, standing over a beaten "imposter." Everyone was cheering. Cheering for a fricking tyrant.

Cheering for the fact that I was about to be killed. Tch, fine then. If I die, I hope they all suffer for their audacity. If I die, I hope this "Creator" dies of a panic attack trying to fix their world. If I die, I hope they realize how big of a mistake they made, taking the position that which doesn't—never—belonged to them.

If I die, I hope this world burns in hell.

"Creator..." Hm? Who said that? Probably someone from the crowd—who else would it be? My imagination? How cliché, even for this manipulated world—

"Creator...get up..." The same voice speaks, and this time, I can hear it better. It's echo-y. It's calm, yet angry. It's blank, but filled with emotion. I look up, and I see a spirit made of light.

But the most fascinating part? The spirit looked like me. The Spirit looks like it came out of my phone.

It smiles down at me. "You see me," it muses. "Good. Come on, get back up."

"I...I can't." My meek voice comes out. It gets covered by all the cheering and all the praises for the Imposter, who stands atop of me, smugly.

"Yes, you can."

"I can't."

"This world needs you."

"This world already betrayed me."

"And are you willing to give up so easily? Knowing that you'd let your..." The spirit looks at the Imposter, who was blissfully unaware of its presence, with distaste. "...your false image of you ruin your creation?"

"I don't even know who I am," I insisted, making sure my voice was but a mere whisper. I don't want the Imposter to notice me. "How can I fight for a world I barely know?"

"You do know it," the spirit muses. "Just from a different perspective. You know it because you became a 'player' of this world. You see it with fresh eyes, but with a body so ancient it knows everything like the back of your hand."

"Why...why do you mention all of this?" I question. "How will this be relevant to the fact that I can't even protect a world I came to cherish—to love with 'new eyes'?" The spirit smiles.

"You want to know where your last piece is," it says. "Yet, you have been staring at it for the past moment." It reaches its hand out towards me. "Tell me, what do you see in me, that makes me special—makes me divine?"

"You aura..." I mutter, too in trance to realize I spoke louder than I intended. The Imposter looks down at me, evil triumph heavy in their eyes.

"Finally tasting my power, huh?" They say, smirking, but I could care less. My eyes were still staring at the spirit. It's still staring at me, smiling at me with a brightness so radiant it could rival the gentle days that were peppered by the sun's golden rays. It sounded so poetic, but I could care less.

"Metaphorically, I am but a mere illusion of the sun—the moon," it says. "But only until the sun has found themself, can the world recognize their true star." They give me their hand.

"If you wish to continue to fight, let us be one, and let the world sing you songs for all civilizations to recognize." I stare at the spirit, awe-struck.

There was no way that my power—the final piece, was being handed over to me on a silver platter. There's no way.

Yet, the very existence of this spirit was proof enough. It was...almost too cliché for me to believe, but it was the truth. Holy cow, I really am the Main Character.

With a quick motion, I place my hand on top of theirs. "I will let the world hear me, once and for all," I say, my voice firm and loud. The Imposter sneers down at me, distaste evident in their features.

"What are you on about this time, you slimy little—" They never got to finish their sentence, for I felt the spirit finally intertwine with me.

All the memories I've collected in this long, hard journey come flashing through my mind, as the power that felt oh-so familiar runs through my veins yet again.

"Happy Birthday, Mx. Y/N!" I hear the voice of a young child.

"Thank you, for lending us the knowledge to repel those awful demons, All-Seer," the voice of an elder Priest spoke.

"Please, Mx.! You mustn't overexert yourself for this!" a proud, yet nervous soldier, warning me as I stood firm against the dangers of the time the world first fell into disaster. "Please—let me take you to safety!"

I owe all those people I knew back then their mercy. Mercy for their descendants. And once I'm done with this stupid Imposter, I'll rebuild this world from dust and up if I have to.

The last thing anyone saw, was my form turning into a supernova. I hear the world singing, recognizing me. I hear it hum as it starts to tear and crumble the palace of the Imposter.

With a quick wave of my hand, I let the light of the supernova fade, but trapped the Imposter in a cage. I let all control they had over everyone disappear.

My intense, sharp gaze is what everyone sees, as my form is now cleaner, more graceful. The Imposter cowards, paling as they realize how much of the real deal I am. Haha, the sweet taste of revenge. Of Karma. This is what I longed for, and it's finally at my grasp.

"Since you love playing the 'Creator,'" I mock, sneering down at the Imposter's petite figure. "Why don't we place your little skills to the test, hm?"

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒅.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: FINALLY, PART 3 IS OUT! I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING 30 YEARS ON THIS OMG—Y'ALL PROBABLY FORGOT THIS EXISTED DIDN'T YOU 💀💀💀 MY BAD I AM SO SORRY.

Also! It is entirely up to you of what punishment the Imposter gets! Tell me what you think best suits them :) Perhaps I might write a sequel? 👀 No promises on that, but something I can promise on is that Venti and Nahida are now forever being pampered with affection and gifts! <3

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[love-anddeepression]

Chapter One- Partnership Deed.

Summary: the very beginning. how he came to be in the same house as you.

Author's notes: it's a small chapter, i'm sorry but more to come!

Fic playlist

Chapter One|Chapter Two|Masterlist

No one tells you about how horrible this feeling is. This aloneness that consumes you. That empty that comes after everyone has left and you’re sitting there in the living room all alone. A hurried dinner you’re too tired to eat left on the table.

*Ring*

You’re jolted out of your depressive pity party at the sound of your phone ringing. Muting David Attenborough’s soothing voice and looking at your phone.

Unknown Number.

You pick it up and put it on speaker, sitting up straight, “Hello?”

The man who responds asks if you’re the one who put that advertisement for a roommate. You say yes, and he asks if he can come by to check the apartment out and you nod to no one, replying that yes, of course can, whenever he’s free.

“You mind if I come by now? I’m returning from the campus library actually.”

Because the only calls you’ve gotten till now were sleazy asshole who weren’t students, you’re surprised that guy is actually in your university.

“....Hello?”

“Yeah! Sorry!” you know you should say no, it’s nine in the night, you have work to do, a chapter to write, a business model to research, you should tell him to boot and that yes, you did mind if he came now, “Sure, you can stop by, I’ve got nothing to do. Can I get your name though, wouldn’t want a total stranger to enter my house, y’know.” you awkwardly chuckle and introduce yourself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

It’s a miracle you don’t drop the phone.

After what you can only describe as a painfully awkward goodbye, you rush to clean your apartment. Cursing the post-it’s scattered all around the house. They’re plot ideas, written in blue, purple, pink, all over the kitchen. The stray black ink used for definitions for costs and tendency curves and fuck if you remember what they mean and another fuck because this is Miguel O’Hara. The lead guitarist of that one band that always plays during uni fests. The tall fucking literal bull of a guy who captures everyone attention without meaning to. You both haven’t ever spoken to each other, never crossed paths because he’s a STEM student and though technically business is considered STEM for..whatever reason, it’s not the same and it’s in a different building. But you know who he is.  You’ve seen him from a distance, your friends teasing you for looking at someone like a blushing little girl, but you’re playing safe. 

You’ve just managed to make the place presentable when the intercom buzzes. In your haste to reach it, your toe catches on one of the dining chairs and you resist the urge to just say screw this and curl up in a ball and cry, instead hobbling over to the machine, cursing under your breath as you press the button, “Come on in!” you muster the cheeriest voice you can imagine. Granting him access into the building and immediately letting out a not so cheery expletive once your finger leaves the contraption. If this is all for naught you swear you’ll stay single till college is over, you can just live in fantasy, because god this guy is an idiot who thinks he can come up whenever he thinks he can. He’s probably one of those asshole dudes who thinks they’re better than everyone else.

But your dumbass is to blame. Your stupid constant to please people gee thanks for that mom

You rush to open the door as soon as you hear the knock, bracing yourself for an arrogant dude smirking at you-

Yes, that is Miguel O’Hara at your doorstep, but he’s shyly? Scratching the back of his neck, looking almost apologetic.

“I am so sorry for just barging in this late.” is the first thing he says,wincing as your eyebrows raise, “it’s just-

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. It’s alright.” you smile and open the door wider, inviting him in.

Jesus, what was in the water he drank as a child? He towers over you as he steps in. You look up to his face as he scans the living room, almost smiling at the organized chaos around the house.

“Uh, over here is the bedroom you’ll be taking, if you’re moving in that is.” you walk past him, sleeve brushing his, pointing to the open bedroom he walks into, nodding approvingly. It’s decent for the money he’d pay as rent, there’s actually no reason for him to refuse. He can stay here-

“It’s a beautiful place.” he finally looks down at you, “Yeah, I think, if there’s no one else at the moment, I’ll be happy to accomodate the room.”

And that’s the story of how Miguel O’Hara became your roommate.

You wish you could say you lived happily ever after.

“Miguel!” you bang on his door, “Wash the fucking dishes, today’s your turn!”

You get a hum in return, and you know the dishes will get done really late or he’ll probably fall asleep at his desk. You wish you could ignore it, you really do. But again, thank the instilled doctrine that if you’re lazy to do anything you’re pathetic and don’t deserve to breathe air. With a swear on your breath, you storm to the kitchen, making sure to bang the dinner dishes as loud as you can. It’s been a week since he moved in. A week.

He had helped with dinner. Vegetable Gravy with turmeric and chillies and roti’s. Guy liked trying different cuisines and your penchant for cooking came in handy. One thing your mother taught you that helped. And he said he’d wash, that you worked too hard and he didn’t like seeing you all stressed out like a little mouse.

“You’re like a little mouse, always moving here and there.” He chuckles, his fingers wiggling to mimic a scampering rodent and sticks it in front of your face. 

You slap it away, “Oye, watch the gravy.” you point at the curry with your rolling pin.

 He dips a finger and brings it to his mouth to taste, looking at you as he licks it.

“Hmm, muy delicioso .”

“Thanks.”

In a partnership, to specify the deals of the relationship, a partnership deed is drawn up for specifics. Percentage of profit, ratio of distribution, shit like that. Roles for each partner. That’s precisely what this asshole needs, a real live list for him to see. You wonder if he needs sock puppets and Cheerios as well.

It takes ten minutes to draw up a good contract, with clear rules laid out for the both of you, he’ll probably come out in a few minutes.

—----

You wake up in a start, the lights are off, and there’s a blanket on top of you. The tv that was switched on was now switched off. 

That ass had finally come out, and he’d covered your sleeping form and switched the TV off. The metal glint of a pen catches your attention. Blinking, you scramble for the deed, looking over it, and on the bottom, right where you’d written out his name was his signature. And a little drawing of a flower with a sad face saying sorry in bubble speech.

Idiot. You smile, clicking the pen and signing above your name. 

He better make breakfast tomorrow.

[firewalkzwit]

in the mood for love // neil lewis x reader

To accept that life is not David Lynch's magnificent "Blue Velvet", or much less Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity", was not an easy thing for a man like Neil Lewis, who adored nothing more than to vicariously live through the screen time of the 50's Hollywood heartthrobs that starred as his favourite characters.

So, in the event that a Rohmerian woman whose quirk could even be seen through her yellow lens Godard-ish sunglasses, Neil found it to be an offer he couldn't refuse.

Word count: 2.8k

Cross-posted on AO3

A.N: i actually never finished watching the detectives bc i was honestly not a fan of the plot so bare with me lol, i was only too in love w cill and lucy liu's characters but the movie itself kinda disappointed me

also, yes i made them fans of MY favorite movies, arrest me.

The sound of intense tapping of nails on the counter, crowded by a disastrous attempt at organising countless VHS tapes scattered all over it, caused the plastic of the films to rattle as the table vibrated. Neil's tired eyes rolled upwards to catch a glimpse of the face before him, a slight frown drawn between her eyebrows and an intensely inquisitive stare which hardly helped him to decipher what exactly she wanted that actually merited bothering him.

The harsh placement of the VHS on his desk caused him to grit his teeth, it felt almost imperative, and it ached him to see his most prized possessions be mistreated. His eyes drifted back up to her, the yellow-tinted lens of her sunglasses still didn't stop him from finding them oddly familiar. Scanning to the rest of her clothes as if he wanted to glimpse her personality based on her looks, he felt like a detective. The black minidress on her body was rather loose, and the sleeves ended close to the start of her wrists, as if it was too short for her arms. It seemed like an intentional fashion choice, despite how unflattering it looked to him. The dress hugged her waist in the centre, with a peculiar silver belt he'd only see in the outfit of a woman in a nouvelle vague film. In fact, her entire style seemed to be the one of a sixties Parisian flâneur, as if she was ruthlessly trying to imitate Anna Karina. Over the turtleneck that culminated her dress, a thin, long golden chain that went as low as her belt had a large and round golden pendant hanging from it.

But as soon as she spoke he was disappointed to find no thick, sexy french accent, but rather an ordinary speech, almost too friendly and passive to be attractive. His eyes drifted down to the VHS on his desk; while he expected Vivre Sa Vie, le Bonheur or Pierrot le Fou, there was no La Collectionneuse on his desk, but rather the most unexpected of outcomes.

Jane Birkin would never rent a chick-flick, Neil thought.

The membership she handed did not belong to her, it was that of a man's, an old one too, judging by his name.

"Alright, that will be eight dollars."

"Jeez, eight?"

"Eight."

"You do know the other rental charges only five, right?"

"I was not aware, thank you." Not only was she of poor taste, but also quite irritating. Even though he refrained from explaining how being a smaller business practically obliged him to charge more to make an actual profit, it was before he could begin to explain the late fees that she snatched the VHS from his hand.

"I'm actually going to keep looking." And just like that, she turned and began to walk slightly bent over, looking at the orange labels that hung on the shelves. Curiosity consumed him, and he also felt it his duty as the owner of the videoclub to assist his customers in making a choice.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Well... What do you have with Robert De Niro?" Neil's eyes suddenly lit up, as if her personality had a chance at salvation the moment those words came out of her mouth.

"Most of his works, there's his classics like Goodfellas, Taxi Driver... I even have Heat if you're looking for something more thrilling."

"Heat?"

"Heat is one of the most critically acclaimed nineties crime dramas. It also stars Al Pacino, it's this kinda' cop and criminal trope but so realistically achieved, even the sound of firearms is claimed to be one of the most realistic in the history of film-"

"I'll just take that one." The tip of her finger slowly grazed his as she gently took the Heat VHS from his hands, a friendly awkward grin displaying discomfort. "It's just for my dad."

"Oh... Sixteen Candles' for you I guess." A soft nasal laugh left her body as her head tilted down, shaking in denial.

"No, that's for my dad too." Ok, weird, but by then she had undeniably picked his curiosity.

"Nothing for you then?"

"I prefer a cheaper rental, this is my dad's membership." As if he couldn't see for himself that such a name would never belong to her, it could only be that of an old geezer who he still struggled to recognise even though he was a member. And even though she intended to make a subtle comment, it did not come off that way.

"Oh yeah? And what do you rent in the cheaper club?" Media Giant could have a wider offer and lower prices, but Neil assumed it wasn't a real loss if the clientele consisted of girls like her.

"I like French movies, Harmony Korine, seventies giallos... Why, you want me to rent them from you instead?" While her first pick was particularly predictable, Italian giallos were a genre he was interested in exploring, and of which he hardly had any in his extensive collection. Neil shrugged almost dramatically, trying to incite her to take yet another pick.

"It wouldn't hurt your dad. Except for the giallo part, ‘can't help you there."

"You mean you have no giallos here?" His face deformed into an awkward pout, as if he'd been defeated in his own ground. "You look like the type of guy to own them on Criterion."

"I don't think so, no." By that point, the humiliation of her light cackle upsetted and confused him even further, returning her change as she piled up the tapes.

"If you ever want to watch a good Dario Argento movie, you let me know when I return you these." And marking her goodbye with a soft grin that slightly lifted the sunglasses that rested above her cheeks, Neil was taken aback beyond speech. Was it a date? Was she joking? He couldn't quite understand, and so couldn't come up with a proper response.

But seven days passed before she returned, and he would have to charge her the late fees that added to the sixteen dollars. However, in the course of those five days Neil hardly remembered her, briefly making a comment about it to his friends. Neil was not the type of man to stress easily, and he was exercising his peace that particular afternoon as he watched the director's cut of Psycho, to him a movie that truly never got old. He snacked on the couch in a slobby posture, his limbs spread over it without a care about presentation. It was not the type of day for him to expect too many customers, and it was too hot to go outside anyway. Hardly did he ever struggle to find an excuse to stay in anyway, so when he heard the doorknob pushed down his expression shifted into a displeased grimace. His eyes peered over the backrest, displeased to find that someone had indeed come in.

As he got up and stretched, mindfully appearing to be homeless, he caught a glimpse of her again. Her head was tilted and on her hands were the two tapes she had borrowed. He was surprised to have even forgotten that he'd rented her the films, usually being more attentive about what went in and out of his club. Probably the bizarre interaction had caused him to forget. That time she wore a tiny pair of black shorts with black stockings up the knees and also black, sharp-pointed flats. The usual thick, high-waisted belt accompanied a loose sage blouse, which was accessorised with elongated collars of various unique beads, and the peculiar yellow-tinted shades. Not that Neil cared at all about fashion, nor did he understand it, but he assumed she was going for chic.

"Sorry for not coming by sooner, hope you didn't miss these." She placed the tapes on the counter and quickly began looking through her pockets for the money she assumed she'd have to pay for being two days late. Before he could tell her how much extra she owed, she placed the four dollars on top of the movies.

"How'd you know how much..." Neil's finger drew a circle above the tapes and the money, as if she was some sort of genie or simply gambling with how much he'd charge compared to his prime competitor.

"My dad." She quickly interrupted, offering him her usual small grin of politeness before making her way out. Yet by that point Neil wasn't oblivious to her previous invitation, overwhelmed by the curiosity her strange looks provoked him.

"Is... the offer for that Dario Argento still up?" He could tell she was smiling through the way her cheeks lifted, visible from behind, and the way her voice sounded. When people smile and talk, their voice accommodates to the wider lips and sound friendlier.

"Glad you asked."

It was by that point that the old-Hollywood mystery enthusiast Neil and the French new-wave, foreign murder-thriller enjoyer Y/N frequented each other in what consisted of visits to the Gumshoe Video and her place. In contrast to his original impression of her, she was quite the film collector, owning a perfect shrine that ranged from art house Kino Lorber films to a wide range of classics on Criterion. She was truly well stocked. The only thing obvious to him from the start was that she was a great enthusiast of foreign films, something she even gave away in the unique way she dressed.

She was also an occasional actress, kindly starring in the indie projects of some of her film geek friends, many who shockingly knew Neil as well. It was natural for them to have so many people in common, especially because people with mutual interests were bound to come across each other in such a small town, however he was surprised to not have seen her previously roaming around or in any of his friends' films. She had a look that just gave away she'd be into acting, the role of a muse seemed to fit her character perfectly.

Because of this, as soon as Neil began to grow an interest in impressing her, she was surprised to hear he wanted to try and film an experimental short, try his luck at producing something beyond an advertising trailer for his videoclub, something more artistic.

Obviously he invited her to star in it, and even though he'd expected her to jump in his arms in excitement, never did she show herself to be shocked or taken aback by any of the bizarre propositions he had in mind. Neil wasn't very knowledgeable or even interested in the world that existed beneath experimental indie films, but she seemed to be willing to comply with the various shots of strange ideas he sketched frantically in strangely-drawn frames.

When it was finally time to shoot, it was clear that the whole tape would be very rudimentary, using the 35mm film gauge she had offered to lend him, demanding that he treat her camera with extreme care.

Despite Neil's attempts of disclosing what exactly he had in mind, rough sketches were clearly not enough, as the minute they began to shoot and the scenes began to come to life, it became too clear to her that Neil just wanted to see her naked, behaving like a conceited filmographer in poor attempts of masking his amateurism. It was hard to imagine senior film-makers like Jean-Luc Godard, especially the favourites of Y/N, and the thousands of breast and butt-naked women takes they had witnessed being filmed in their lifetime. Neil found it hard to imagine them behaving with naturality, but then again he assumed it was the only way to behave if they were actually in search of pristine shots.

"You don't seem to be taking this too seriously." She finally scolded, her forearm hugging her chest to cover her breasts once Neil cut the cameras.

"What do you mean? I'm directing here."

"You're wasting film in countless shots of my tits, what message are you trying to convey?" Interrogation was not on his plans, especially because Neil expected artistic and abstract film to not be questioned, but rather merely interpreted.

"It's about... the beauty of the raw human body." His tone didn't project confidence, and Y/N could tell he was feeding her bull-shit.

"Okay, then I'll film you too."

"Sorry, what?"

"It's not the human body if you also don't see the male." He didn't seem too convinced, obviously it was far more amusing to simply watch than to have to partake. "You and all these film-makers are so open minded when it comes to seeing women, but there's still a taboo for the male body." Neil couldn't find in him the interest to follow her idea. Obviously she had a valid point, but he was never the type to pay attention to the underlying message behind highly interpretable films, rather driven to puzzling movies where connecting the dots until the end was the reason to get his brain working.

However, how could he disagree? By that point it couldn't get more intimate than that, and a sudden high of confidence invaded him and prompted him to begin to undress himself. He began by his shirt, clumsily taking it off and visibly embarrassed. As he begins to rid himself from his pants and underwear, feeling the lens of the camera stare at him probingly, the desire to turn back strikes him to his core. He finally stands there, exposed and naked. He tries to look defiant and confident, but he's achingly vulnerable.

The camera is delighted with his expressions, and his body is posed like he wants to bend inwards and disappear into the air, but just when the filming of his most exposed self seems to never end, the camera lowers and his eyes meet with hers, and her own naked body too.

The naturality with which she accepted being in the spotlight seemed to indicate it was not the first time she filmed something of the sort, and Neil began to wonder who exactly had been gifted with pioneering in such a scene. He, on the other hand, was awkward and hardly artistic, his skinny body and shaky blue eyes screaming how out of place he felt.

"Do you think that's good enough?"

"Yes, I can't keep lending you more film anyway."

"That was... something." As she sat on the floor naked, her back arched sideways and her legs to her left as her arm supported the body, displaying total relaxation. Meanwhile, he couldn't wait for her permission to get back dressed, staring at her clothes as he waited for her to pick them up and imply she could do the same.

"It's a great thing when you realise you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about."

"American Beauty?"

"Yes." In a way, the scene did share odd similarities to the American classic. The filming of odd, regular things and their naked bodies, Neil was bound to expect what would come next would follow as in the movie. He slowly crouched and sat before her, the two sharing brief stares that felt like a lifetime. Her gaze was soft and mellow, contagiously transmitting her tranquillity to his own as he pondered on whether to make a move or not.

By that point it was obvious they were not going to leave that room without something happening before, but the decision of who would initiate the contact seemed to be difficult as the longest minute of their lives passed by them.

So when she finally accommodated her posture and began to lean closer to him, he crawled her way progressing from soft and careful movements to pounding her against the floor. The sound of bone against the wooden floor caused them both to wince, her face wrinkling in a frown of pain. It was before she could hold her head to stroke herself that his own hand slid down from her temple to the back of her head, holding her up to finally kiss her.

The kiss was long, and the sound of their lips engaging in humid contact as their tongues went in and out of each other's mouth echoed across the empty room, Neil's free hand travelling from her navel to her breast as her arms wrapped around his slender body. Her legs followed the motion, soon making her look like she hung from him, clinged to his back as he arched to reach closer to her. Her gaze ogled from the corner of her eye in search of the camera as her arm reached out, finally being released from his grip to set up and continue to film themselves, a prime example of human beauty in its most raw expression.

Needless to say that beyond physical pleasure, it was an intellectual disappointment for the two that despite their love for film, they still couldn't make sex look and feel like a scene from Body Heat, sexiness was greatly rehearsed after all.

this sucks ass i just wanted to write filmbro cillian murphy and yap about my favorite movies tbhngl

[flame-cat]

Part 1 / Part 2 (you are here) / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Phil is actually doing alright, this time.

No, really.

That breakdown earlier? To be expected. He's been through a lot recently. Of course he's going to have a bit of a cry, maybe a nightmare or two. That's normal. Earned, even. But that was because he was sitting still. He forgot the most important part of maintaining mental health- movement. Activity.

This time, Phil is pacing.

He's careful not to get too mindless about it. If he slips into lethargy, lets time pass and pass and pass while he lays catatonic, he's going to break. That can't happen. He counts his steps, counts the birds, pays attention to his surroundings. He checks every corner for secret elevators or unprotected blocks. He clears away the foliage. He organizes his inventory. Once. Twice. Fiddles with his things.

(Avoids the chest and the hat and the duckie.)

Phil is doing better now. He got it all out of his system, and now he's focused. He's planning. He's plotting.

That fucking bear. That fucking bear. He's going to kill it. He's going to raze this island into nothingness. He's going to rain hellfire down on anyone that stands between him and his kids. He's going to get out of here and kill and rage and they will suffer him.

He's going to find his kids. He is. He is.

(He's failed them too much already.)

He doesn't have his photo album with him. If he did, he would be looking through it, flipping through page after page of precious memories. As it stands, he can only rely on his mind's eye for it.

(How long until he can't anymore, until the faces of his loved ones become smudged beyond recognition from time and isolation?)

He was going about it all wrong earlier. Waiting. Listening. Laying helpless and cathartic, pliant, malleable. Sitting pretty like the caged bird they want him to be, waiting for someone to come rescue him.

Phil is no damsel.

All aside, he knew when he came here it might be a trap, that something might happen to him. He was prepared for this. It's no surprise, no great loss that he's trapped now. The only downside is that he can't look for his kids right now.

But he'll get out. Hopefully on his own.

The game, he realized some time ago, isn't just to break him. That could be achieved in other ways, of course, and the federation is much too clever not to go for two birds in one stone. No, they're also trying to distract.

Just like with Forever, if everyone is preoccupied with looking for him, trying to save him, they won't be looking for the eggs. It's all smoke and mirrors.

Phil won't allow that.

If they do come for him, what will they do? The blocks are protected, the door locked with no key. It'll take ages to get him out. Time better spent looking for their children. Phil can get out on his own, and he will tell them as much- that they must leave him to his own devices and find their kids first.

(Phil is no help. Has been no help. He's already failed them. He can't be another burden, another weight on the scales balancing their fate so percariously.)

In here, Phil is safe, though bored and distraught. The kids are in danger, who knows where, terrified out of their minds and alone. The more time passes, the more likely that...

(Why is their stuff here, why is it here, why did they put it here, why why why-)

So no, should they come for him, Phil will not accept their help.

Phil is pacing.

It's impossible to tell how long he's been here. He already lost time with his breakdown earlier. Fucking scuffed. Washed, even. It could've been hours or days, he has no idea.

He has no idea how to get out.

He's tried hitting things, obviously, that's basically all he did for the first couple hours or so. Punching, kicking, ramming his body into things, tearing at the hanging plants. There are neat piles of plant matter in his inventory now. He has taken a few leaves out and torn them apart, methodically, bit by bit, and scattered them at the birds.

The birds. Will they survive in here? Will he need to kill them and eat them to live? It probably won't come to that, not for a long while, but it's worth considering that they seem to have no source of food in here.

Maybe he should feed them.

What, his gapples? Birds can't eat gapples. Phil is an exception. The only thing he will achieve is killing them faster.

The plant matter he has may help, a little. There have to be some seeds in there. He hopes that's enough.

Having a problem to solve, one with a solution at hand, is critical to maintaining his composure. The birds will keep him occupied. He rummages through his inventory, sifting carefully through the leaves and vines he has accumulated, picking apart tiny flowers in search of anything a bird might be able to eat.

They've mostly left him alone so far. At first they scattered to the corners of the room, perching in rafters and eyeing him warily with warning chirps at the others. He feels a little bad that his tantrum earlier had caused them such distress. It seems now enough time has passed that they regard him as another part of their home. Just lazily flitting by, perching on his hat or pecking at his feet. Curious and carefree.

(Still trapped. Poor things.)

Phil has not found any seeds.

He throws the little pile of greenery onto the ground and keeps pacing.

[seeminglydeathlessredshirt]

Ramblings on Bioshock Infinite

So, I've decided to start writing down how I feel about what I'm playing here rather than wait for my friends to be online so I can infodump at them.

Anyway, Bioshock: Infinite. The original was pretty alright. I didn't get all the way through it because I was getting a bit tired of Rapture and some other little annoyances, but it was a perfectly decent experience. Skipped past 2 because once again, not in the mood for spending a dozen more hours underwater, and went right to the one that people fuss about all the time to see what the fuss is all about.

I shouldn't have gone out of my way to see what all the fuss is about.

Spoilers for an 11-year old game will follow, but I do not recommend going out and checking this out yourself.

To its credit, the game does have a very strong opening. The welcome centre/church you arrive in offers absolutely gorgeous visuals and a strange yet interesting blend of Christian motifs and the weird sort of reverence built up around the founders of America. "Gee," I thought, "maybe this will be a game that finally tackles religion in an interesting and nuanced way that doesn't just feel like it was written by a 14-year old who just discovered Reddit." Unfortunately, it doesn't(if anyone knows a game that does, please let me know.) After a level where you walk around and take in the sights of Columbia(an experience that feels like walking into a veritable wasp nest. Either one, take your pick), you're thrust into your standard action game plot shenanigans. Kill a bunch of guys while someone rants at you over an intercom, go through various setpieces, all that good stuff.

Is the killing actually all that fun? For a certain stretch of the game, yes. You have some okay abilities, a good selection of weapons to choose from, and takedowns are pretty cool as well. The skyrails scattered around some maps are gimmicky, though a welcome addition(the irony of a game like this leaning heavily on what are basically rollercoasters is not lost on me.) But somewhere past the halfway point, it takes a steep nosedive. The weapon list gets bloated to hell and back, and a combination of the carry limit of two plus the tendency to only ever give ammo for everything you don't want to use drags it down. Enemies also seem to get substantially spongier and more numerous, which makes fights incredibly unsatisfying. Bioshock was already firmly in that grey area between immersive sim and combat sandbox, and Infinite is neither of those. Everything feels so much less versatile, there's no thinking outside the box to be done here.

As for the rest of the story, you may have heard about how centrist it gets, and I am sad to report that everything they said was true. What really gets me is how it's already setting up the "both sides are the exact same thing" even before the characters would have any reason to think that. They're literally basing this entire viewpoint off of "oh, the workers are being violent about overthrowing their oppressors, that's super bad, right????" This game also does try to tackle things like racism but I don't exactly have a good eye for whether or not something tackles that matter maturely, so all I'll say is that it feels very surface-level and inconsequential. "Inconsequential" can sum up everything else in this paragraph too because it's all eventually abandoned for !!Dimensional Shenanigans!! This is what the last few levels are taken up by entirely and all it accomplishes is covering over a weak attempt at social themes with an even weaker attempt at sci-fi themes. The ending is certainly a bit more batshit than you'd expect for your standard seventh-generation slop, but it can't salvage this. The fanservice just reminded me of a somewhat better game. I would make a joke about this game only having two characters, but then it goes out of its way to say "yes, there really are only two characters."

I am not playing the fucking DLCs.

[beezlub]

Daffodils & Dragons || Draco M. x F! H! Reader

synopsis; studying for the NEWTs, time had caught you and you had completely forgotten about the yule ball. finding yourself at a gryffindor party a few days before, your short friendship with draco starts to unravel, leading you to a side of him you’ve never seen.

a/n; teehee. this is. long. it was a very self indulgent fic, as a plus size reader/writer who has a very soft spot for draco, i just wanted to write for him 🫶 also this is my first time writing smut, please be nice

story notes; SMUT (MINORS DNI), plot with porn, alcohol, p in v (wrap it before you tap it, PLEASE), mattheo is kinda an asshole and does mean things to (y/n), self-conscious thoughts abt self, romance, angst at the end BUT THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING

tw; sexual assault, potion misuse, alcohol spiking. please lmk if there’s something i’m missing!!

wc; 13.2k. i got carried away whoopsies

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The NEWTs were known to be the worst exams you could ever take at Hogwarts, hence their full name; nastily exhausting wizarding tests. For the first half of the year, it had been filled with studying, attending tutoring sessions by my professors, and more studying. Exhausting, truly. I knew I didn’t need to push myself so hard, but I was trying so hard to follow in my parents footsteps, to become a potioneer.

I'd grown up around them explaining and showing me the processes of potion making, and it occupied a good portion of my mind for most of my childhood. A NEWT in the subject would mean the world to me, and hence the studying was needed.

“(Y/n), dearie, you need to get your head out of that book and get some air,” a voice said from behind me, and I noticed it was hannah.

“I’m quite alright, thank you though Han,” I said, quietly resuming the notes I'd been taking. I still had a few hours left until dinner, and I was keen on studying until then.

“(Y/n), please love. Take a break. You’ve been in your notes all semester. It’s a wonder how you aren’t burnt out yet," Hannah said, sliding into the chair next to me as she grabbed my hand, pulling my attention away again. “Join me tonight; there’s a party I want to go to, and I know you aren’t keen on them, but I think it’ll do you good. You haven’t been to a party since your fourth year. You need to relax,” she begged, her eyes silently pleading for me to go.

“Hannah, you? A party? What happened to miss prefect,” I said, giggling as I shut the book in front of me.

“I know, I know. It’s just…” she trailed off, her cheeks gaining a pink hue to them, and I immediately knew what she was getting at.

“I get it. Longbottom will be there, won’t he?” I teased, enjoying the way her cheeks flared, her eyes avoiding mine as she nodded. I let out a laugh, gathering the notes and pens I had scattered around the table. “Fine, I'll be your wingwoman. But for this, you owe me a butterbeer next time we go to Hogsmeade!” I mused, putting the materials in a neat pile as I heard Hannah cheer.

“Oh, thank you (Y/n)! Thank you! C’mon, we’ve got to get you out of these robes, and I need to do my hair!” She said, happiness apparent in her voice as she pulled me from my chair and out of the library, my books in my arms as she dragged me all the way to the Hufflepuff dorms, ignoring the stares we received, and into our shared room.

Placing my books on my desk, I took off my robe and draped it over the bed, leaving me in my uniform. Undoing my hair from the loosened braid, I let it fall over my shoulders as I sat on my bed, watching Hannah dig through the trunk at the end of hers.

“I don’t even know what to wear. I didn’t think this far ahead. I'm so nervous (Y/n), what if he doesn’t even notice me!” Hannah said, picking out a few dresses she had stored and throwing them over her bed. A dark red one caught my eye, and I quirked an eyebrow.

“Han, that one,” I pointed to the red one, watching as her face darkened again.

“(Y/n/n), that one…it’s too revealing!” She squeaked, getting off her knees as she picked it up, holding it to her frame. “It’d show…everything!”

“Isn’t that what you want? Neville will definitely notice you then,” I smirked, watching as her eyes widened with realization.

“Merlin, (Y/n). Find something and change, I'll be right back,” she said, skipping into the bathroom with the red dress as I let out a giggle. “Oh, Hannah,” I said, shaking my head as I left the plush surface of my bed and dug through my own trunk. Throwing out a few options, I sighed, wondering if I even had a dress that would be good enough for a Gryffindor party, though I thought it was odd they were throwing one on a Thursday.

“Hannah, can I rummage through your trunk?” I shouted, hoping she could hear me through the door.

“Do you not have a dress, (Y/n)? I thought you had that sparkly green one?” She shouted back, and I turned my eyes back to my trunk, digging through it until I found what she was talking about. It was a dress I had bought a few years ago to attend a Slytherin party, but never ended up wearing or even attending, due to not wanting to be tormented by Draco or his goons. Standing up, I held the dress to my body, watching as the dark green fabric sparkled in the dormitory light. Shrugging, I figured this was as good as it was going to get, and stripped off my uniform and tights before unclasping my bra and pulling the dress over my head. My figure had definitely filled out since I had bought the dress; it bunched up around my hips, and the low chest line left little to imagine as it pushed my chest up slightly. The dress ended mid thigh, and the sleeves were a sheer dark green that fell off my shoulders. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t feel sexy in this dress, and I ran my hands over myself, feeling the pudginess of my tummy. Turning around, I eyed the low cut in the back, wary of how it almost showed off my ass, but other than that it was perfect. Running a hand through my hair, I enjoyed the waves in the length from the hairstyle it had been in all day.

“Han, can I borrow some of your makeup?” I asked, looking at her as she exited the bathroom. The red dress hugged her figure tight, accentuating her hips and showed off more of her thighs than I could ever think of. “Wow…Han…you look stunning,” I said, shaking myself from my best friend's beauty as she laughed.

“I could say the same about you, dearie. You look hot!” She grabbed my hand and spun me, a laugh ripping its way from my throat. “I'll do your makeup, sit on my bed!”

Listening to her, I took place on her bed, sure to not let the material around my thighs ride up as I heard her murmur a spell, her wand directly in my face as I felt a cool breeze against it. “All done!” She sang, hopping up from the bed to slip on some black kitten heels and I rolled my eyes.

“I thought you were against using magic for makeup?” I asked, making my way back over to the mirror to see what she had done.

“I am, for the most part, but tonight calls for a special occasion.”

Looking in the mirror, I brought a hand up to my face, careful to not smudge the makeup on my face. The blemishes on my face were covered, the blush on my face making me look flushed constantly. There was a shimmery eyeshadow on my lids, along with a fine flick of eyeliner and mascara. Tinted gloss was on my lips, and I felt prettier than ever. “Thank you, I look so pretty!” I beamed, turning around at Hannah who had a smile on her face.

“You always look pretty, now grab some shoes! The party has already started!”

"What?!"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The music boomed in my ears as Hannah dragged me into the Gryffindor common room. I could already smell the booze in the air, and everybody was tightly together. My eyes wandered, and I saw a pair of hands on a girl's hips, dragging her ass into the male's crotch, and I inwardly cringed. If I had known this was how the party was going to be, I would've contemplated a bit more on coming, or wearing something different.

"I'm going to go get something to drink, Han. go find Neville," I said, removing my hand from hers as she nodded, and in an instant, her body was lost in the sea of seventh years. Shaking my head, I maneuvered to the side of the room, my eyes landing on a bottle of sherry and my heart eased its panic. Grabbing a cup, I poured the liquid in, but just as I was about to grab a mixer for it, a pair of hands slithered onto my hips.

"(Y/n), you look stunning tonight," the voice whispered in my ear, barely audible over the music, and the smell of firewhiskey invaded my senses. Turning around, I was met with Mattheo, a fellow seventh year who I had a few classes with over the last few years.

"Hi to you too, Mattheo," I said, giving him a polite smile as I tried to turn my attention back to the alcohol in my hands.

"Whadda shame," he slurred, his hand gripping my hips even tighter as he leaned in closer, "I woulda loved to take you out, now that I know what would be under that dress of yours," his hands ran up and down my sides, an unwelcome shiver running down my spine. Mattheo was far past drunk, and while I couldn't excuse his actions, the better part of me knew I needed to get him away from the alcohol.

"Matt, c'mon," I said, placing my cup down on the table behind me as I grabbed his sleeve, tugging him towards an empty loveseat in the corner. His frame towered above me as we made our way over, the music growing quieter as we moved away from the speakers. Gesturing for him to sit down, I ran a hand over the butt of my dress before sitting, cursing the way it slid up anyways.

"Y'so pretty, y'know that (Y/n/n)? I always thought you were pretty." He said after a few moments, his head lifting up from where it was resting against the back of the couch. I blushed at his words, hoping it wasn't visible in the dim lights.

"You're drunk, mattheo, you don't mean that." I said, pulling my gaze away from his face and scanning the crowd. I could see Hannah grinding against Neville, a drink in both their hands as they laughed, and my heart felt heavy again. Hannah was so pretty, her hair falling over her shoulders as she danced with neville. Her dress hugged her in all the right spots, the red complimenting her skin. If she hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff, Gryffindor would've been my next guess, solely because of the color with her skin. The thoughts gnawed at my mind for a few more songs, constantly comparing myself with the other girls I knew, and how drastically different I looked than them.

As the next song played, a warm and calloused hand gripped the bare skin on my thigh, slowly working its way up. I didn't need to turn to know who it was; Mattheo. My skin froze, and I could hear my heart in my ears.

"Bet if I reached up a little more, I could feel how wet you are, baby," he slurred in my ear, his other hand coming to grip my face as he slammed his lips against mine. A muffled yelp escaped my lips from the contact, and I could feel his fingers against my pantyline. Panic flooded my system, and I pushed myself away from him, attempting to get up from the couch before he pulled me into his lap.

"No, no, (Y/n). I know you want me just as much as I want you, baby." Mattheo's hand clawed at my chest, groping one of my breasts as the other one kneaded my ass. It wasn't pleasurable; it was the opposite. I hated it, I wanted his hands off me, I wanted to burn this dress and my skin.

“Hey, mate. What's the big idea?” A voice said from behind me, and it was that moment that I realized I had been crying. Cedric stood behind me, his arms crossed against his chest before reaching out for me, pulling me up from Mattheo.

“Cedric,” I whimpered softly, feeling one of his hands rub my arm as he continued to glare at Mattheo, who had thrown his arms up in defense, and the smirk on his face made me want to puke.

“She wanted it, man. I could feel how wet she was under that slutty dress," Mattheo started before he was met with a punch to his face. The people around us had started to stare, and I could feel myself shrinking into Cedric's arm, trying to hide from them.

“Don’t ever say that about her, or another girl for that matter, Riddle,” Cedric spat, turning us around to make way to the other side of the room. “Are you okay, love?” He asked, his hand rubbing my arm once more as I pulled my dress down more. I couldn’t do anything but nod, trying to stop the tears falling from my eyes as we sat down with some other Hufflepuffs who had taken residence at one of the tables.

“(Y/n)? oh my god, love. what happened?” I heard Hannah behind me, and I turned around to face her, watching as she left Neville's arm and rushed over to me, cupping my face in her hands as she brushed stray tears away from my face.

“Riddle is what happened. I saw his hand up her dress when I went to get another drink, so I went to get her. Ended up decking the fucker in the face,” Cedric said, rubbing his knuckles as Hannah continued to comfort me.

“I-I think I might just go back to our dorm, Han.” I said quietly, holding one of her hands as she nodded. “I'll come and walk you back,” she got up, and I shook my head. “I don’t want to ruin your night, you stay here with Nev and the others. I'll be fine,” I said, lifting myself out of the chair.

“(Y/n), I’m not comfortable with you walking around the school after this. Somebody needs to walk with you,” she stated before a cough behind us distracted us.

“I'll walk her; I'm leaving anyway,” Draco said, his eyes shifting between the two of us. His sleeves of his black dress shirt were pushed to his elbows, his usually neat hair tousled as his eyes landed on mine. He looked like he had been in a fight too, but then I noticed his knuckles were bright red, just like Cedric's, confirming my suspicion. I wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to do something, on tonight of all nights too.

“Fine, but if I hear one thing from her, your ass is mine, got that Malfoy?” Hannah said, her hands resting on her hips as he nodded. “Noted; let’s get you back to your dorm, (Y/n),” Draco said, moving out of the way so I could leave the table. A shiver ran down my spine from him calling me by my first name; usually it was (L/n), or mudblood. First name basis was reserved for people close to him.

The walk to the Hufflepuff entrance was quiet, not many students to be seen. It was well past midnight at this point, and I cursed myself inwardly for letting time slip so fast. Thank Godric there were no prefects out at the moment though.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, breaking the silence as he fell into step beside me. Looking up at him, I could see the concern written on his face, but he didn’t dare touch me.

“I think I'm alright. I’ll be fine, anyhow,” I started, unsure of what else to say as I wrapped my arms around myself, the late fall air cold, even inside the building.

“Here,” Draco held out a jacket, one I was unaware he was even holding, and I shook my head.

“It wouldn't fit, but thank you anyways,” I gave him a sad smile, brushing some stray strands of hair out of my face.

“Merlin, you’re stubborn,” Draco groaned before setting the jacket over my shoulders. It was warm from being in his arms, and smelled like musk and apples.

“I…thank you,” I muttered, grasping the edges of it gently as it fell quiet again. Soon enough, we reached the Hufflepuff entrance; its giant oak doors were daunting to me as I tried not to let the events of the last few hours crash down on me in front of Draco.

“Do you need me to go in with you?” He asked, noticing the worry on my face as his hands shifted a bit, almost as if he did want to help me.

“Oh-um. No, thank you,” I squeaked out, embarrassed that he saw the worry on my face, “here, thank you again,” I said, shuffling off the jacket as I placed it back into his arms, the brush of my fingers against his arms electrifying.

“Of course. i’ll see you in potions tomorrow,” he said, turning around, leaving me in the hall with a pale blush on my face, not one caused by makeup.

��₊✧──────✧₊∘

The blaring of my alarm woke me up with a jolt, and I couldn’t help but groan, throwing a pillow over my head as I tried to drown the noise out. Just because I was in the sweetest house of them all didn’t mean I couldn’t be a bitch without sleep.

“Godric's sake, (Y/n) turn that blasted thing off. I have a bad enough headache as it is," Hannah groaned, throwing one of her pillows at me as I reached for the alarm on my bedside table, smacking around a bit until I hit the button, silence once again obtained. Pushing myself up, I blinked a few times, trying to figure out the mess that was on the floor. Clothes were scattered everywhere, a wand on top of everything. Shoes weren’t neatly put away under the beds, and a pile of clothing I didn’t recognise was on top of Hannah's trunk. The green dress I had on last night was draped neatly around one of the posters on my bed, and it took a few moments for a few things to click. One was that Neville was sleeping soundly on the other side of Hannah, hence the pile of clothes I didn’t recognise. Two, was that Draco was oddly nice to me last night after everything that had happened, and that if my speculations were right, he also got a few punches in at Mattheo.

“Hannah, c’mon. you’ve got to get up,” I said, throwing off the warm blankets as my feet met the cold stone on the ground.

“Not going to classes…Too hungover…” she moaned from under her blankets, and I stifled a laugh as I stripped out of my sleepwear and into my uniform.

“Snape will be mad at you, you know that right?” I asked, tightening the tie around my neck before leaning over to place the school loafers on my feet.

“Don’t care,” she replied before a heavy snore echoed through the room. Oh Neville.

“I'll miss you; make sure you use a condom,” I snickered as I grabbed my bag and robe, leaving the room before another object could be thrown at my head.

Settling down at the Hufflepuff table, I grabbed the notes out of my bag before filling my plate with the breakfast goods. I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head, but I opted to ignore it as I smiled at Cedric, who had just joined the table as well.

“Morning, (Y/n). how’d you sleep?” He laughed, ruffling my hair as I scoffed, threading a few fingers through my hair to undo the mess he had just made.

“Just fine, thank you.” I mumbled, rolling my eyes with a smile as I flipped open the notebook in front of me, ignoring that Cedric had stolen a sausage link off my plate. “Any more of you got laid last night?” I asked, enjoying the uproar of laughter that echoed out.

“Cedric got close with Cho, if I recall correctly,” Abby said, nudging him in the side as Ethan tossed a crumpled up straw wrapper at him from across the table.

“I probably would’ve, if you two hadn’t interrupted the game!” He laughed, which made me look up from my notes.

“There was a game?” I asked, looking around at my friends.

“Yeah, Ron started a game of spin the bottle, the one muggle game, but Pansy added on seven minutes in heaven. It was wonderfully funny.” Ethan cackled before shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“Oh…sounds lovely.” I mused, shaking my head as I turned back towards my notes.

“Malfoy wouldn’t play after he returned though. He looked seriously shaken yet deeply in love," Abby commented, Cedric nodding in agreement as he continued to eat off my plate.

“Wait…Draco came back? He said he was going to his dorm after he walked me back.” The confusion must’ve been written clearly across my face, as everyone fell silent.

“He..he did come back. But didn’t do anything but pour a cup or five of firewhiskey for himself,” Ethan shrugged, looking around the group. “What? She asked, and I told. Pansy threw a nasty fit when her spin landed on him, and he refused to kiss her for the bare minimum.”

“It's fine, guys, I swear. I just didn’t know, that’s all,” I said, shutting my notebook and giving a fake smile before I took a sip of the orange juice in front of me. The bell rang a few moments later, and we all said our goodbyes as we headed our separate ways. I usually had Hannah alongside me while we made our way to potions, but because of her ‘hangover’, she wasn’t here, and I felt extremely anxious. Another set of feet were following close behind me, and it made my pace pick up as I clutched my bag tighter in my arms, but their pace increased too. The anxiety inside me was skyrocketing as I reached the door of the potions room, and I flung it open, rushing to my usual seat. I didn’t want to see who was behind me, I didn’t want to know if it was some poor student trying to catch up to me, or if it was Mattheo trying to make another move. Settling down, I took a few deep breaths to try and calm down as other students filled the room. Hearing the chair scrape on the floor next to me, I pulled my gaze from my lap to see Draco sitting next to me, an irritated look on his face as he slouched back, his gaze on the board at the front of the class. I guess he noticed me looking at him, and he turned to me with a scoff.

“What? Something on my face, (Y/n)?” He asked, his word choice not matching up with his tone. “You’re a bloody fast walker, by the way. Practically running down the hall, you git.”

I blushed, turning away from him as I dug my notes out of my bag, watching as Snape scribbled something on the board. “I didn’t know it was you following me. I thought it was…” I trailed off, not wanting to recall the memories from last night.

“He won't be bothering you, love,” Draco said before shutting up. Besides being one of Snape's top students, it didn’t stop the glares from the professor to get him to shut up.

“If the class would like to start, we will be going over Amortentia today. You will be expected to make a decent potion of it by the end of class and have a three page essay over its components and your results by next Monday,” Snape said, my eyes drifting over the ingredients laid out on the table in front of us. I could hear the groans emitting from the students around me; an essay over the weekend wasn’t something anyone wanted.

“You will be partnered up with your desk mate today; given the…amount of students missing,” Snape continued, my head snapping up. Oh Godric. Hannah was usually my desk mate, the spot now taken by Draco. Not that he was a bad potions partner per se, probably the best in the class actually, give or take me. But we walked a line I didn’t know existed until a few months ago, when the term started. Always on the receiving end of his taunts, the boy’s words stopped carrying the sting they did from the first few years of school. Now, they stopped all together, and he was…friendly. In a Draco way. It was confusing, especially after yesterday’s events.

“Right, I muttered to myself, following the instructions I had written down in my notes, distracting myself from my previous thoughts as I poured my attention into the cauldron in front of me. I didn’t notice the way Draco was watching me, his gaze scanning my face, noticing the way my brows furrowed in concentration and how I stuck out my tongue as I bruised the peppermint heads with the mortar and sprinkled them into the potion, then dropped the whole leaves in. He continued to watch as I dropped in the powdered moonstone, stirring three times and seeing the way my eyes sparkled over the golden cauldron.

Scribbling down notes quickly for the essay, I turned to look at Draco, quirking a brow at his unlit cauldron.

“Aren’t you going to start?” I asked, dropping a handful of rose thorns into the pot before I covered the top with a silk cloth.

“We’re partners, if you didn’t hear Snape correctly. We were supposed to be doing this together,” his eyes glanced over the covered cloth, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, shit,” I clamped a hand over my mouth, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I'm so sorry, Draco. I got carried away,” I moaned, hiding my face behind my hands as I rested my elbows on the table. He laughed from beside me, a delightful sound to my ears as I peeked between my fingers.

“S’alright, (Y/n). Less work for me. I guess to pay you back for doing the hard work, I'll tackle the essay for you.” A hand found its way to my shoulder, and I jumped in surprise before it retracted immediately. “Sorry,” Draco mumbled, and I removed my hands from my face, watching him stare at his own notes with a slight pink tinge to both our cheeks.

“S’okay, Dray,” I said, the nickname rolling off my tongue as I lifted the silk. “Looks like it’s done, yeah?” I asked, looking at the pearlescent color swirling around.

“It does. Let me take a whiff," Draco said, grabbing the other side of the silk as he lifted it off. I watched as his head went closer to the pot, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent.

“What does it smell like?” I asked as he pulled away, watching as he took his sweet time to exhale the breath he was holding.

“It smells like..amber and vanilla. and a hint of cinnamon,” he finally said, and I scribbled it down. My chest felt heavy at the description, but for what, I couldn’t pin. Was I upset that draco didn’t smell me? Was I happy that he didn’t? I didn’t know.

“Your turn,” Draco said to me as he finished writing his findings, and I gave a curt nod, brushing back a strand of hair so it didn’t dip in the potion as I leaned forward. My senses were flooded with the smell of apples, sandalwood, musk, and a hint of peppermint.

“What does it smell like?” Draco asked as I removed my face from the potion, pulling my hand down to let my hair fall back down.

“It smells like apples, sandalwood, and peppermint,” I said, grabbing my quill again as the bell rang for class change. I missed the raging blush on Draco's face as I put away my things, making sure the leftover ingredients were left on the edge of the desk.

“I'll help you with cleanup, professor,” a voice said over the chatter of students. I noticed it was Mattheo, and I groaned, anxiety settling in my bones once again. I hadn’t even realized he made it to class, surprisingly, but at least this meant I didn’t have to deal with him in the halls.

“Start with the back row; dump the cauldrons into the sink and wash your hands after everyone,” Snape's voice called out, and as I made my way out of the room behind Draco, I noticed Mattheo sending me a sly smile, making my skin crawl as I exited the room.

“What's your next class?” Draco asked, his long strides growing shorter as his steps fell into sync with mine.

“I have a free period next; I'll probably spend it studying in the library. The potions NEWTs are next week, and I want to be as prepared as I can,” I replied, my voice getting lost in the sea of students as they chatted and moved out of the way for us. Seems Draco still held his reputation around school.

“Ah, well, good luck with studying. I'm sure you’re going to ace the NEWTs next week, even without studying. You’re top of our class, (Y/n).” He said as we both unconsciously made our way to the library.

“You’re too kind to me now, Draco. What happened to your comments?” I asked, leaving no room for a response as I opened and closed the library door behind me, leaving Draco in the hall.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I had taken up residence at my usual table in the library, books and notes once again scattered around me as I pounded information into my weary brain. I'd very much had skipped my classes for the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon; it wouldn’t hurt to lose a point or two off some assignments that were going to be turned in late in lieu of studying. Dropping my quill, I stretched back, my arms above my head as I heard my back crack. A low moan left my lips from the pop, and I slouched back down, pulling my skirt back down from its shifting upward.

“Merlin, (Y/n), have you been here all day?” A voice said, and I looked over to its owner.

“Hi, ‘mione. nice to see you too,” I laughed, watching as she set a tray down in front of me.

“You missed dinner, so I brought you some. I figured you’d be in here since you weren’t in defense or herbology.” She said as I eyed the potatoes on the tray, and she pushed it closer, rolling her eyes with a laugh as I said a quick thanks and scarfed the food down. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, having been too engrossed in the books to realize my bodily needs.

“If you weren’t so kind, you definitely would be in Ravenclaw,” Hermione shook her head as I gave her a shy smile.

“Just trying to be my best, that’s all.” I said, placing the fork down on the empty plate.

“Oh, by the way, someone asked me to give you this. Not a clue what it is though, so be wary,” she said, handing me a small box with a note tied to it. “Looks like you have an admirer, (Y/n/n),” she teased, a blush coming to my cheeks as I opened the note.

“Be my date to the yule ball?” It read. No name attached either. Handing the note to Hermione, I opened the box, surprised to see little heart shaped chocolates in them.

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hermione chirped as I popped one of the chocolates in my mouth, feeling it melt on my tongue as it left a tingly feeling throughout my body.

“I had totally forgotten about the yule ball, to be honest. But there’s no sender, so why would I go with them?” I quipped, my body growing hot as I swallowed the chocolate. I'd never had a secret admirer before, and the thought of it made me blush, but not knowing who it was was nerve wracking. “Plus, it’s tomorrow. Why would they ask so late?” I continued, popping another chocolate into my mouth, the same tingly feeling exploding throughout my body as I closed the box, munching on the melting chocolate.

“Who knows? But you are going, aren’t you? I'd love to see how pretty you are in your dress!” Hermione smiled, grasping my hands from across the table as I nodded.

“Yes, I do plan on going. I might just tag along with you lot. I was supposed to go with Hannah, but she snagged Longbottom and I don’t really want to third wheel,” I laughed as she nodded.

“I'd love to have you there, (Y/n). Now c’mon, pack up sweets. You need your beauty rest for some dancing tomorrow. Studying can resume on Sunday.” Laughing, I nodded as I cleaned up my space and slung my robes and bag on, holding the chocolates and note in my hand as I walked back to the Hufflepuff dorms.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next morning had come and gone; most of it was spent soaking in one of the dormitory tubs. I couldn’t get myself to get out of the always-warm water and the bubbles that never popped. It was relaxing, but I knew I needed to get out soon. Hannah would be looking for me soon if she wasn’t already. She was keen on doing my hair and makeup again, saying she knew the perfect look for me to suit my dress. Letting out a groan, I unplugged the tub stopper, immediately missing the warmth as I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself and patted myself dry as I picked up my clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket. Never in my years here did I question how they always knew what clothes belonged to who, but I was thankful for it.

Walking down the hall, I could hear the excitement emitting from the dorms and it brought a smile to my face as I entered my dorm, seeing Hannah on her bed, a mirror up to her face as she perfected her makeup.

“Oh, there you are! I was beginning to think you drowned yourself,” she laughed, setting down the eye pencil and mirror in her hand as she watched me plop down on my bed, a sigh escaping my lips as I stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I had pushed on the angled room at the beginning of the term.

“What's wrong love? Something got you down?” Hannah asked, moving from her bed to mine as she grasped my hand, making me look at her and give a soft smile.

“I don’t know, Han. I don’t feel as excited for this as everyone else,” I admitted, sitting up, her hand still holding mine.

“Is it because you didn’t get asked? Merlin, (Y/n), if that’s the case, that’s an awful reason to not feel excited. I thought you’d be one of the first girls to be asked out, with how kind and pretty you are. Not to mention you’re an amazing dancer," Hannah said, moving a hand to stroke the side of my face as I nuzzled her palm softly.

“No, it’s not that. I did get asked out, but I don’t know by whom.” I admitted once more, letting out a small laugh at her gasp.

“You got asked out anonymously? What a twat!” She exclaimed, her hand holding mine tighter as I let out a giggle.

“It’s fine, Han. If I had to place it on someone, it would be Riddle. I don’t know how much more he can make it obvious that he likes me, especially since he slid his hand up my dress Thursday.” I shrugged, getting up from my bed to grab some underwear to slip into.

“That git…I swear if I see him tonight, I’m going to hex him. I don’t care if it costs me my prefect title, what he did was awful and I can’t believe the professors or headmaster aren’t doing anything about it!” She mumbled, falling on my bed like I had done a few moments ago.

“It wasn’t an open party, hon. If the professors knew, we’d all be in detention right now.” I laughed, shimmying on a pair of black underwear. “Do I wear a bra? My dress doesn’t have sleeves, but I feel like I’d need the support,” I asked, turning back to Hannah as I tossed my towel on my trunk.

“Just wear a bandeau. You’ll get the support, but no straps”

“Right,” I muttered, grabbing a nude one out of the dresser and slipping it over my head, adjusting my breasts so they sat right in the bra before I sat on Hannah’s bed. “Doll me up; do your worst,” I smirked, watching her face light up as she sprang from my bed, giggling as she made her way over to me.

An hour and a half later, I couldn’t recognise myself once more, but in the best way possible. Hannah had truly worked her magic. My hair was curled, a few pieces pinned back with a white carnation pin, and tickled my bare back. My makeup was perfect. Blemishes and imperfections covered once again, a pale blush scattered across my cheeks. She had done a shimmery eyeshadow over my lids once again, and a dainty line of dark eyeshadow to mimic eyeliner, but she had buffed a dark brown under my eyes, topped off with filling my brows and a luscious layer of mascara to make my eyes pop.

“You look more beautiful than ever, (Y/n),” Hannah smiled softly at me, kissing my cheek softly as I beamed up at her. If this was the wizarding equivalent of a muggle prom, I felt like the prom queen, even without my dress on.

“Thank you Han, now go get your man,” I winked at her, shooing her away as she laughed, picking up the bottom of her once again dark red dress, the layers falling behind her as she made her way out of the dorm. Smiling, I could finally feel the excitement creeping up on me as I looked at my dress hanging on the side of my wardrobe. I reached out, feeling the tulle between my fingers before I got up, taking it off its hanger and slipping into it. It was a beautiful daffodil color, a sweetheart neckline that had flowing layers that ended at my heel, with an intricate floral lace on the bodice that trickled down onto the skirt. Spinning around, I enjoyed the way it ballooned out before falling against my legs once again. It was like a princess dress, in my eyes. Hearing the 7 o’clock bell ring out, I grabbed a pair of teardrop pearls and put them on, then a matching necklace before slipping into the nude flats I had gotten in Hogsmeade earlier in the semester before leaving.

I could hear the music being played from inside the Great Hall, and all of a sudden, I was swarmed with anxiety. I’d be entering alone, the music was so loud, what if Mattheo was there? I struggled to find my breath, placing a hand over my chest to try and even out my breathing as I sat on the stone steps outside the entrance to the hall. I could see my friends inside, watching as they danced and laughed together, while I was holding myself together with pieces of tape. Feeling beautiful moments before didn’t help me, and I struggled to not let any unwanted thoughts in my brain, but they came crashing down anyways. Was I not good enough? Was it because of how big I was? Was I just some checkbox for the boys here to flick with their quill; to try and get into my pants to say they fucked the fat girl? Was I even pretty enough? Were my friends just my friends because they pitied me and couldn’t dump me after the first year?

The thoughts swirled in my brain, and tears brimmed at my waterline as I curled into myself, clutching my head as I rocked back and forth, a pitiful attempt to try and calm myself down before I fully broke down. I didn’t notice Mattheo standing above me until it was too late.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?” He asked, sitting down next to me as I bit my lip, his presence making my anxiety worse.

“Go away Mattheo; I don’t want to see you,” I quivered, turning my body away from his as I rubbed my arms, the feeling of his hands on me from Thursday ghosting over my skin, even though he wasn’t touching me now.

“I wanted to apologize, (Y/n). It was wrong of me to force myself on you, and I deeply regret my actions. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, badger,” he spoke, his words whispers on my ears. “But I did mean it when I called you pretty all those times; I truly think you’re one of the prettiest girls at this school, if not the most,” he continued, and I brought my watery gaze to his, already finding his eyes on me. “Please, if not your forgiveness, can I at least ask a dance of you? And perhaps a drink, too?” He pleaded with me, sincerity glazing over his eyes for a moment, and I nodded, not finding the words to speak as he offered me a hand, pulling me up from the steps as I sniffled, rubbing gently at my undereye to not smear the makeup. “Thank you, darling. Now, shall we?” He asked, extending his arm to me, and I slowly linked with him, guiding me through the grand oak doors and down the steps. I could see my friends turn to the late entrance, their focus on me and the man who had me wrapped around his arm. I could see Draco in the back, standing by Pansy and Theo, a faint blush on his cheeks, but a scowl on his face as he saw who I was with. If a grand entrance was what I was hoping for, this was the closest thing to it.

I could feel my dress swooshing behind me and the magic in the air as Mattheo guided me to the dance floor, spinning me gently to face him before he rested a gentle hand on my hip, his firm fingers digging into the fat of my hips before he took my other hand and started dancing. I followed his movements, swaying to the beat of the slow song as other pairs started dancing around us. Looking up, I could see the candles had stayed, floating in the air but accompanied by little stars and constellations. The whole room was magical, quite literally and aesthetically. It was like we were planted in the middle of the woods, looking at the starry sky. Flowers and vines crawled across the floor and walls, an echo of a creek played behind the classical music, and it smelled like fresh rain, along with the cologne Mattheo had put on. I hadn’t realized I was resting my head on his chest until the song ended, and I stepped away with a blush.

“Sorry,” I murmured, hearing him chuckle.

“It’s okay, (Y/n). Why don’t you go mingle with your friends, and I’ll find us something to drink. I did promise a drink, afterall,” he said, shooing me away with a soft smile, and I glanced back while making my way over to Hermione, seeing Mattheo still standing there, a wonderstruck look on his face before he turned to the assortment of drinks and goods by the stairs.

“You danced with Mattheo!” Hemione said, grasping my shoulders as she shook me, a confused look on her face as Cedric and Cho stood there, interlocked in each other’s arms, the same look of confusion on their faces.

“He asked me to dance, and he also apologized. I agreed; I didn’t want to make him feel bad, ‘Mione,” I stated, stepping back as I shrugged.

“Did you accept his apology? After what he did to you?” Cedric spoke up after a moment, his brows furrowing and I shook my head.

“No, at least not verbally. He apologized, and then said ‘if not your forgiveness, at least a dance and a drink after,’ if I recall properly,” I said, sitting at the empty table behind us, seeing Draco make his way over.

“(Y/n), Sherry, right?” Mattheo said, turning my attention back to the curly-haired male. Nodding, I accepted the glass from him with a smile.

“Thank you, Mattheo.”

“No worries. I’ll be right back; they’re refilling the firewhiskey as we speak, so I’m going to go grab a glass for myself,” he responded, sending me a wink before disappearing into the crowd once again.

“He tries to be all goody and nice, I can’t believe the audacity of that man,” Hannah said, scaring me as I whipped around.

“Han! When did you get here?” I asked, bringing the bubbly drink up to my lips, taking a sip. It burned more than normal, and an overwhelming sensation flooded my system, making my head spin as I took another sip, thinking I was just parched.

“When Riddle was giving googly eyes at you,” she rolled her eyes, resting her elbows on the table as she scanned me over. “You don’t look too good, (Y/n). Are you okay?” She asked, reaching over the table to feel my forehead. “Merlin, you’re burning up!”

“I-I’m fine, I swear. It must be the mix of alcohol and dancing. I’ll be alright, Han,” I said, my words slurring together as I felt my face flush again.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Draco’s voice called from behind me, and I turned around again, my vision blurring from the too-sudden movement.

“Dra-Draco.” I greeted, biting my lower lip as I looked up at him, my vision dancing with stars as I tried to focus on him. I heard the chair next to me scrape back, and I could hear Mattheo’s voice. It was muffled though, as if I was underwater.

“I think…I think I’m going to go get some air outside, guys. I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, swaying as I got up from the seat, gripping onto Draco’s bicep as I steadied myself for a moment before making my way outside.

“Too much alcohol for her? I mixed it with the lemon-lime soda she likes,” Mattheo commented, watching as I ascended the staircase and out of everyone’s view.

“Hm…I don’t think it’s that, Riddle. She’s handed much more alcohol than that before,” Cedric chimed in, sending a glare at Mattheo, who threw his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear. You can ask Ginny; she was at the refreshments with me,” he said, his eyes widening before a loud cough echoed through the speakers.

“Excuse me, students,” McGonagall’s voice spoke through the mic. “It has come to my attention that while we do allow alcoholic beverages here during the yule ball, one of the punch bowls was tainted with. It didn’t seem like too many students took a cup of it, but if you or one of your friends had a cup of Sherry and ingested it, please report to Madame Pomfrey immediately. We do not know what was put in the bowl, but it is urgent that whoever needs it, seeks the antidote right away,” McGonagall finished, and murmurs floated throughout the crowd.

“Oh, fuck,” Mattheo whispered, running a hand through his curls as he leaned back, panic on his face.

“Where’s Draco? Did he have some of the Sherry too?” Hannah asked, glancing over the group. She didn’t know that once Sherry was mentioned by McGonagall, he took off, looking for your whereabouts.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I don’t know how, but I had found myself in the dungeons, taking solace in its chilly temperature as my body burned. The Sherry tonight was much more potent than usual, and I wanted more after I cooled off. Running my hands along the cool stone walls, my mind flooded with thoughts of Draco. How nice he had been to me, walking me back to my dorm the other night, how lovely his hair always looked. I imagined his lips on mine; how they would feel as his fingers wove into my hair as he peppered my neck with kisses. A small whimper escaped my throat from the thought, and I used the wall to hold myself up, my knees growing weak from the flooding of indecent thoughts about the boy I had known since I was twelve.

“Fuck..” I muttered, sliding against the wall onto the floor, my breath coming out in small pants. Placing my hand over my heart, I could feel it beating a million miles an hour, and my brain was so foggy. The thoughts flooded my mind, and a burning sensation lit in my abdomen, only fueling my thoughts about Draco. What would he be like in bed? Would he treat me good? Does he know what he’s doing, unlike me? Godric, I was horny for this man. I could feel it in my panties, the way they were sticking to me was a sign, but I couldn’t do anything about it, not with this dress on at least.

“Fuck, (Y/n), you feel so good,” his voice echoed in my brain as I tried to steady myself against the wall, a rush of slick pooling in my panties as I let out a choked sob. I could feel the fabric of my bra and bodice brush against my breasts, the friction burning in the most pleasurable way possible. If I didn’t get out of here soon, someone would see me in this pathetic, alcohol-induced state of horniness.

“Be a good girl for me, yeah darling? That’s it,” the voice continued in my head as I staggered along the wall, my shoes scuffing along the floor as I slowly made my way down the hall, my chest heaving with every breath as sweat started to bead on my hairline.

“(Y/n)? Merlin, there you are,” I heard Draco hall from me, and I cursed silently under my breath as I heard him start to run up to me.

“N-No..Draco, don’t come any closer,” I whispered, trying not to let a choked moan escape my throat, the heat between my thighs burning with every step I took. I held out a wavering hand in front of me, a fruitless effort to get him to stop, to leave me alone so there wasn’t another reason to be embarrassed. Feeling his hands on my shoulders, a loud moan ripped from my throat as I collapsed against him, my brain too foggy to care anymore as his hands sent electricity down my spine.

“We..We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey, right now,” Draco said, ignoring the blush on his cheeks and the way his pants tightened from the moan I had let out. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, helping me steady myself, the blush on my cheeks darker than ever as I gripped the sleeve of his suit, cursing how I wished how I knew he looked under it.

“N..No…I can’t let anyone see me like this!” I exclaimed with all my strength, looking up at him with watery eyes, hoping he could see my plea behind them. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head.

“Fine. I’ll bring you to my dorm, then I’ll get Madame Pomfrey to come see you,” Draco guided you to the Slytherin door, whispering “Pure-Blood.” I watched as the serpent decoration moved, revealing the door to the common room. I let Draco guide me to his room, goosebumps littering my skin as his grip on me tightened. We soon entered his room, and he guided me to his bed. I let out a soft whimper as his hands left my bare skin, letting me sit down on the bed. I relaxed into the soft bedding, only to feel Draco gently brush up the material of my gown, his hands grasping one of my ankles softly.

“Draco..” I whimpered, feeling his slender fingers slide down, slipping my shoe off and placing it by the foot of his bed, repeating the process for the other one.

“It’s gonna be okay, (Y/n),” he whispered, getting up from his crouched position to brush a stray curl behind my ears before he traced a finger along my jawline, sending another jolt of electricity down my spine. “I’m going to go get Madame Pomfrey; stay here, please,” he said, locking his eyes with mine as I nodded, my lips parting slightly. I saw his gaze graze over them, licking his own before he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door gently. I could hear the echoes of his shoes running down the hall, clicking until he was too far. I let myself fall back on the bed, resting my hand over my eye. I was so confused, the alcohol wasn’t helping my confusion, and I was so fucking horny. Everything stacked on top of each other wasn’t making sense, with Draco, the ball. The only thing I could do was sigh, making the dress shift on me once more, another soft moan leaving my lips.

After a bit, Draco returned, but without Madame Pomfrey. I noticed the shirt in his hands, and a pink blush on his pale cheeks.

“Ma-Madame Pomfrey? Where is she?” I asked, adjusting myself so I could sit on the bed, clenching my thighs as I felt another rush of slick come out of me. I swear my brain was being fried, with how hot I was at this point.

“She’s…she’s occupied, with other students right now,” he coughed, turning his head away as he tossed me the shirt in his hands. “I went to your room too, by the way. Figured you’d want something better to change into while we figure out what to do.”

“Oh, thank you,” I murmured, feeling the soft fabric beneath my fingers. It was an old shirt I had stolen from my dad years ago, I forgot I even owned it. Where Draco found it is beyond me. “You said she’s occupied with other students? Did something happen at the ball?” I asked, reaching around to fiddle with the dress’s zipper, feeling it slide beneath my fingers as I grunted from the loss. “Can you help me?”

“Er, yes,” Draco whispered. His actions were concerning me, to the point where they were fighting against the horniness my brain was screaming release from. “Somebody spiked the Sherry at the ball…she’s trying to help the few other students recover from it,” He mumbled, dragging his fingers along my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but shudder from his ministrations. Hearing the zipper fall, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, the dress constricting more than what I thought, and it felt like I had just taken the first actual breath of air in hours.

“Thank you,” I got up off the bed, shimmying out of the dress as it pooled around my feet. The cool air of his room hit the wetness in my panties, and I let out a small whimper, pulling the oversized shirt over my head. I missed the way Draco’s eyes glazed over me, his eyes stopping at my underwear and his eyes locking in on how dark they had become, and the slick that had dripped onto my thighs, glimmering in the low light. “What…what do we do about…” I asked, shyly gesturing a hand to me as I met his eyes. There was no way I could leave his room, looking like this, but Madame Pomfrey was busy, and it could be hours before she could come here.

“I…er…” Draco coughed, his head turning away from me with a dark blush, sending another bolt of electricity down my spine. I bit my lip to stifle the moan threatening to spill from my lips as I waited for him to continue. “She…she said we could wait, or…” He trailed off again, and I noticed he was fidgeting with his hands. I could only watch as he gathered the strength to say what he was trying to say. “Or we could. Um. They figured out what the potion was. It was a lust potion, and well, the obvious answer is to fuck it out of the person, or wait for it to run its course, which could be hours or even days, depending on how potent it was. Professor Snape and McGonagall are working on an antidote right now,” he rushed out, his hands moving to the front of his trousers, trying to hide the obvious erection he had at the moment. It took a moment for the words to sink into my skin, and another bright blush coated my face, burning so hard I could feel it on my ears.

“O-Oh.” Was all I could squeak out, my hands trembling at my sides as I sat back down on the bed, trying my hardest to ignore the friction the sheets provided against my mostly bare ass.

“I…I could help you,” Draco said, and my head shot up, his light grey eyes locking with my eyes. “I don’t want to see you in pain, (Y/n),” he spoke again, taking a few strides to stand in front of me, and his hand was on the side of my face. If possible, my blush grew hotter as I watched him, feeling his thumb stroke the side of my face gently and I let out a small pant. I felt like a dog in heat, and as much as I wanted to get rid of this potion in my bloodstream, how could I let Draco do this? We’d barely been friends for the term, and now he was offering to help me with this problem?

“Draco- I…I don’t know. We’ve barely been friends for the term; I don’t understand at all,” I started to confess, and the words just kept tumbling out. “You were so mean to me up until this year, and now you’re standing up for me against Riddle, your best friend. You’re walking me to classes and being nice to me, bloody hell, you aren’t sneering at me in potions for doing all the work, even offering to do the paper we have due,” and then it hit me. I had smelt Draco in the Amortentia potion. How could I have not noticed until now? His fragrance hit me again, apples, sandalwood, and peppermint filling my senses once more as he leaned down between my parted thighs, and tears pricked at my waterline again. “Fuck, I’m so stupid,” I mumbled, wiping away at the tears that threatened to spill as his large hands moved to my thighs, continuing to rub them in small, gentle circles.

“You aren’t stupid, (Y/n). If anyone is stupid, I am. I was mean to you because I didn’t know how to process the feelings I had for you when I was younger. Fuck, I still don’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore this year; I made that decision over the summer while studying potions. I had recreated the Amortentia potion to practice for the NEWTs as well, and I had smelled you; the smell of honeysuckle in your conditioner, the ever-staying smell of vanilla from the Hufflepuff dorms, even the scent of marshmallows,” Draco said, his eyes locking with mine as a hand moved back to my face, gripping it gently. “I realized I was in love with you, (Y/n). I love you a lot more than my pitiful heart can process, and I never want to hurt you again. I regret my actions from the past, more than I can convey, and I want to make it up to you from here on out. I don’t want to take advantage of you, so if you don’t want to, just say the word. I just want to help you,” his words turned quiet as he finished, and there was a twinge in my heart, hearing him say he was in love with me. A few moments passed, letting the quiet around us settle back in before I nodded, grasping his hand that was on my thigh.

“I want you to help me, please,” I said, my heart beating faster with every word I said. I didn’t even realize it sounded like I was begging until after, but I pushed the thought away as he stood up in front of me, a soft smile on his face as he stripped his suit jacket, tossing it across the chair by his desk.

“I’ll help you as best I can, (Y/n). Just lay back for me now,” he whispered, and I obeyed, leaning back on the soft sheets as he settled between my thighs, pushing them a bit farther open as he leaned in over my face. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He asked, a hand resting against my cheek as I nodded, and that’s all it took for his lips to be on mine. It felt like a million fireworks had gone off in my body as he moved his lips gently against mine, unspoken words behind every movement. Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him closer as I kissed him with more fevor. Feeling him shift, I could feel his hips grind against my clothed pussy, eliciting a loud moan from my throat as I pulled away, resting my forehead against his as he let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re so pretty, (Y/n),” he whispered against my lips before kissing me once there, then moving down to my jaw, then neck, leaving wet, opened mouth kisses along the tender skin. Whimpering, I released my arms from around his neck, letting him continue his ministrations, until he was met with the collar of my shirt. “Can I take this off, love?” He asked gently, watching as I nodded, trying to catch my breath. I could feel his cool fingers sliding under my shirt, another whimper leaving me as his hands bunched up the fabric before bringing it off my arms and over my head. “Godric, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, kissing along my collarbone, nipping at a few spots, making me mewl.

“Draco, please,” I moaned, feeling one of his hands come up to cup my breast, kneading it softly through the thin material of my bra. His thumb grazed over my perked nipple, obvious through the fabric before he dipped down, licking over it, a strangled moan escaping me. “Merlin, that feels good,” I managed to get out before he stood back, wiping a hand over his wet mouth.

“Take off your bra,” he demanded, no harshness behind his voice as he started to unbutton his dress shirt, and I complied, digging my fingers under the band as I lifted it over my head, feeling my breasts jiggle as they came back down. Draco’s eyes never left my chest as he finished with his shirt, throwing it off into the room somewhere as he kicked off his shoes before he sat down on the bed. “Come here,” he said, grabbing my hips as he lifted me onto his lap, a soft squeal coming from me as I sat down, feeling his dick poke into my wet panties.

“O-Oh,” I moaned out before his lips crashed back down on mine, his hands sliding down my hips to grab my ass, making me moan before he started grinding me down on him. His fingers dug into the fat of my ass, dragging me across his clothed cock as a moan escaped both of us, my head falling onto his shoulder as he continued the action, low groans flowing into my ear.

“I want you so bad, (Y/n), please,” he begged into my ear, and I nodded into the crevice of his neck, nipping at it gently as I felt his hand slip under me, his slender fingers dragging along my soaked panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he commented, digging his finger between my folds, enjoying the wetness that collected on his fingers before he drew small circles around my clit, a high pitched moan leaving my lips as my hips buckled into his hand, desprate for more friction.

“Draco, please,” I moaned into his ear, grasping his wrist, bringing it closer to my core. Understanding what I wanted, he moved my underwear to the side, dragging a finger along my wet folds before slowly inserting it into me, another moan rippling through me as he pumped it in and out of me, the wet squelching noises lost between my moans. “F-Fuck, it feels-” I shuddered out, tossing my head back before his lips attached to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, nipping at it as he slid another finger in with ease, curling them up into the spot inside me that had me seeing stars. “Draco!” I gasped out, feeling him abuse the gummy spot as I rutted my hips against his hand, his palm catching on my clit. His other hand continued to knead my ass, spurring me closer and closer to the edge. “I-I’m close,” I whimpered out, threading my fingers into his hair and giving a sharp tug right as his fingers pushed me over the edge, my vision spotting as I came on his fingers with a broken moan of his name. Stilling his motions, he left his fingers inside me, using his other hand to grab my chin, smashing his lips on mine. Kissing me, he slipped his fingers out of me, making me whimper at the loss before he flipped us over so he was on top, his lips never leaving mine as he pulled his pants down, taking his underwear with it. I could feel the tip of his cock hit my stomach, and I reached down, grasping it in my hand before I gave him a small pump, a shaky moan leaving his lips.

“Don’t,” Draco murmured against my lips, bringing one of his hands down to stop my hand, and I looked at him with teary eyes.

“I wanna-I wanna make you feel good too, Dray,” I whispered, watching him shake his head in protest.

“No, you come first,” he said against my lips, pulling my hand back up before he tapped my hips. Lifting them, I felt his fingers slide under the band of my panties before slowly taking them off, shuffling a bit so he could take them off my legs. They got thrown over his shoulder somewhere, landing on the floor before his lips landed back on mine. Running his tongue over my lip, I parted them, allowing his tongue to enter, entangling with mine as he gripped my hips, dragging me to the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I know I’m supposed to be helping you, but I want you so bad (Y/n). I can’t wait to feel you,” Draco whispered against my lips, grasping his cock with one hand, dipping it in the slick on my pussy. The action sent a shudder through my body, followed by a moan as he gently pushed in, the fat tip of his cock stretching me farther than I thought it would. Pushing a hand against his chest, I let out some soft pants, feeling the pain melt into pleasure.

“Dray, I’m..I’ve never done this before,” I admitted, watching as he nodded.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” was all he said before he slowly pushed into me, a guttural moan leaving my lips. Everything burned with desire; Draco was making shallow thrusts, his hands gripping my hips tightly, as though he’d lose me in this act. Shifting my hips a bit, his shallow thrusts hit the same spot that made me see stars with his fingers, and I moaned, biting my lip as I kept moving them in sync with his thrusts.

“More, I need more,” I begged, gripping onto his biceps. I’m sure I left little crescent marks in them from my nails, but that was the least of my worried as Draco started going faster; his shallow thrusts started turning into longer ones, his cock almost leaving my pussy entirely before it would slam back it, making me moan over and over. All of a sudden, it felt like a too tight coil was placed inside me, threatening to snap with each of his thrusts, and my whimpers came out broken, shifting my legs further apart so he could be closer to me. “Dr-Draco!” I let out a loud moan, the coil inside me snapping as my vision saw stars again, and I could make out the grunts coming from him above me, his dick shuddering inside me as my walls clamped around him.

“Fuck, (Y/n), you feel so good,” Draco leaned down, capturing my lips in another kiss as I felt him shudder above, his hips stilling for a moment until it felt hot inside me. He came inside me, and he seemed to realize that as he pulled out slowly, a whimper left me from the sensitivity. “Shit, I didn’t mean to-” He stammered, a hand on his creamy cock as I sat up, my brain feeling less fuzzy than before.

“S’okay, Dray,” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes. “I’m on the pill; I’ll be okay,” I said with a soft smile, a hand running over his abs, enjoying how they felt under my fingertips.

“Fuck, every word that comes out of your mouth just gets hotter, princess,” he chuckled, making my clench my thighs from the pet name. It didn’t go unnoticed by Draco though, who just let out another chuckle. “You like that, don’t you princess?” He purred, grasping my chin to make me look at him. I could only nod, seeing a smirk come across his face. “Good, because I’m far from done with you. Need to make sure every drop of that potion is fucked out of that little brain of yours, darling,” he said before grasping my thighs and flipping me over, my ass in the air for him to see. His hand met the squishy fat, and a sharp slap echoed through the room, making me moan from the contact. “You’re such a dirty girl, (Y/n). Even though you just got fucked for the first time, I can see you want more,” Draco murmured, and I could feel his hot breath against my pussy, making me shudder.

“Draco, not there, it’s…it’s gross,” I said, a blush coming across my cheeks as I turned around, only seeing his bare shoulders and his platinum hair behind my ass.

“Oh, love, I want to though,” was all he said before licking a stripe up my lips, a strangled moan coming out of me as his tongue dipped into my pussy, sucking and licking everywhere until my legs were shaking and I had come again from his tongue. I was so sensitive, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing, and a soft laugh sent vibrations through me, goosebumps littering my skin as Draco removed his face from my pussy, all evidence of his cum and mine gone, only leaving his saliva and new waves of slick on me.

“It’s going to be a long night, princess, I hope you’re ready,” Draco said, shifting behind me as he gripped my hips before filling me up with one long and hard thrust, sending me forwards onto his bed.

Oh Merlin.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I woke up to sunlight streaming on the bed, warming my thighs, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. All I cared about was cuddling back into Draco’s chest, ignoring the world around us.

Wait.

Draco.

I was in his bed, in a t-shirt and no underwear.

Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair, untangling the knots that had formed, and my back ached. Looking around, I saw Draco asleep, right next to where I just was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and from the looks of it, only boxers, which made my cheeks light up as I hid my face in my hands. Memories of last night came flooding into my brain; the Sherry being spiked with a lust potion, Draco finding me by the Slytherin commons, him offering to help me because he didn’t want to see me in pain, and mostly, him fucking me brainless on almost every surface in his room. His bed, his desk, against his dresser. I don’t remember if there was a spot where his dick wasn’t inside me. Feeling him shift next to me, I looked down to see his grey eyes looking at me, messy hair covering his forehead, and I felt my heart flutter a bit.

“G’morning, love,” he said, his voice husky with sleep as he sat up next to me, a soft smile coming to both our faces. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Ah, yes, I did. Um…thank you, Draco,” I said, peeling my eyes away from his as I looked at my lap, clutching my hands together. It was probably a one night stand; he probably pitied how pathetic I was last night, and wanted to get some points with Crabbe and Goyle. The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I sniffled a bit, remembering how I smelled him in the Amortentia. There was no doubt that I liked him, but he probably didn’t like me back, so what was the point in staying around? Shifting, I let my legs dangle over the edge of the bed before I pushed myself up, my knees buckling underneath me and in one swift motion, Draco was by the edge of the bed, holding me up by my hips.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice soft.

I gulped, unsure of if I should tell him the truth. “I…I’m leaving. You can tell Crabbe and Goyle you bedded me, and get the bet money. I can be another checkmark on your list of boxes, I just can’t be here anymore,” I whispered out, my voice cracking as I tried to ignore the way his hands gripped my hips tighter as I spoke.

“Bet money? (Y/n), what are you talking about, love?”

“I-I know you were just trying to help me, but I know I’m just another game to you. Fuck the fat girl, get the money. I know how it goes, Draco,” I spoke, my voice quivering as I fought back the tears that threatened to fall as I looked at him. He looked...heartbroken, and confused, which only fueled my confusion as his mouth opened to talk.

“(Y/n), darling. There was no bet, for Merlin’s sake. I helped you because I wanted to, not because you were a box for me to check off. I love you, have I not made that clear enough?” He asked, guiding me back onto the bed and onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I..I thought you didn’t mean it last night. Godric’s sake, look at me Draco. I’m nothing like Pansy, or Hermione, or Cho, or any of the other girls here. You could have so much better than…than me,” I said quietly, the tears finally falling. I knew my worth, and in comparison to the other girls here, I was close to the bottom of the list, if not at the very bottom.

“(Y/n), look at me, please,” Draco asked, placing a hand on my jaw, his thumb rubbing small circles on my cheek as he guided me to look at him. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and the frown that was on his face. “Yes, those other girls are pretty, but they hold no light next to you. You are the brightest light in my life, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You’re so smart, witty, hardworking, I could go on and on for hours about the things I love about you. You are all I’ve ever wanted, and more. If anything, I don’t deserve you,” he spoke, and I could hear the sincerity lacing every one of his words as he wiped the tears from my face. “I meant it when I said I loved you. I love you more than words could ever describe, and I’m so glad it was you I smelled in the Amortentia over the summer, and even in class. It hurt my heart to say it wasn’t you I smelled, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know how much more I can say or even do to make you believe I love you, but I will keep trying and saying and doing things until you believe me, love.”

Nodding, a soft smile came back onto my face. “Maybe another kiss will make me believe you,” I whispered, causing Draco to laugh.

“If that’s what it’ll take, then I’ll kiss you til the day I die,” he said before pressing his lips against mine, weaving his hand that was on my jaw into my hair as our lips moved in sync for a few moments. Pulling away, I let out a small giggle, pressing my forehead against his before another thought came into my mind.

“Dray?” I asked, pulling away a bit to see his face.

“Yes, love?”

“Does this mean..we’re like..together?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Well, you never asked me, so…”

“Merlin, (Y/n). You’re going to be the death of me,” he laughed, grasping my hand as his other one untangled itself from my hair, going back to its place on my jaw. “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/n) (L/n), the most beautiful Hufflepuff and woman to ever walk the face of this earth,” he asked, making me laugh.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I said, smiling as I leaned in for another kiss before pulling away again, making Draco groan. “You still have to do the essay today, love,” I reminded him, a cheeky smile coming to my face as I saw him roll his eyes before he leaned back down, taking me with him with a squeal.

“Let me have this moment with my girlfriend, (Y/n). Then we can talk academics.”