#that’s probably the wrong word for it; but all of them stand differently when there’s dialogue

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: girl bye this whole part is just screaming n crying omg be prepared

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

authors note: wanted to make a little unexpected visit at the end given his character but yk 😋 let me know if u arent on the tag list yet !! interact w me thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

long story short, the group collectively agree to postpone this dinner night because of what happened. just as you left the restroom, drew was gone and were instead met by leila who told you they were leaving to eat at the pearl some other time.

you feel terrible that they had to witness what they did, and you assume they must’ve seen you and drew talking in the hallway for them to make this decision. they know something’s wrong between you two, and you almost break on the spot. it’s like the whole plan is crashing down and you don’t know what to do, how to move forward.

you and drew travel in different cars on the way home but to end off the night, the group splits up. some dress down and head back to explore the town at night or there are others who choose to stay home, just keep a respectful distance.

you rid of your clothes and step into the shower to collect your thoughts, and it takes everything in you not to cry from frustration. the steam curls around you, the hot water beating down your back like it’s trying to wash the weight of everything away—but it doesn’t.

no amount of heat or scrubbing can erase the guilt, regret, and shame that engulf you.

when you finally step out, your skin is red from the heat, and you wipe a hand over the fogged mirror, catching a glimpse of your own tired reflection. your new clothes cling to your still-damp skin, and your hair hangs heavy and wet down your back.

when you step out of the bathroom, the cool air bites at your skin, but that’s not what makes you freeze. you see him—drew—walking toward your shared room. he’s freshly showered, his hair slightly wet, and you realize he must’ve used the bathroom across the hall that gia and roman share.

for a split second, your eyes meet, and you have to bite down on your emotions, hard, before you can speak. before you can let it all flood out.

you get to the door first, quietly letting yourself in, then leaving it open so he comes in too. the air between you feels heavy—like there are words unsaid. you can hear the faint sound of music downstairs, theo’s voice talking low, maybe to leila, but it’s distant. they must be trying to let you talk without feeling like you need to worry.

you step into the room, moving toward the dresser on your side of the room. your hand rests on top of it, gripping the edge for balance, as if the solid wood can keep you grounded. your back is to him, but you can hear him enter. he stands there for a moment, probably watching you, probably waiting for you to say something.

the silence is unbearable.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

your voice comes out quietly, almost too low for him to hear. you don’t turn around, your eyes focused on the lamp in the corner of the room, as if looking anywhere but at him will keep you from falling apart. your hand tightens on the dresser as you wait for him to answer.

you hear him shuffle behind you, his breath catching like he didn’t expect you to speak first. “i . . . i don’t know,” he says, his voice just as quiet as yours. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

you swallow hard, blinking rapidly as the familiar burn of tears threatens again. you know he’s trying to be honest, but that answer—it’s not enough. it doesn’t fix anything.

“you didn’t want to hurt me?” your voice wavers, and you finally turn, facing him. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you like he doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made. “this wasn’t even just a few days either. this has been weeks—weeks of us talking, planning, pretending . . . and the whole time, you were lying.”

as you walk over to him, he opens his mouth to respond, but you can see the guilt weighing him down, making it impossible for him to speak right away.

“not only were you lying to them,” you gesture loosely, meaning the others, everyone, “but you were lying to me.” you point to your chest as your voice cracks, weak and filled with betrayal.

his face tilts slightly to the side, and though he’s staring at you, his eyes are glossing over. you can see the weight of what he’s done finally sinking in, and it’s tearing him apart. he swallows hard, his throat tight.

“i didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his voice trembling now. “i never wanted—”

but he stops, his words catching in his throat, and you can see the tears threatening to spill. his jaw tightens as he forces himself to keep looking at you, even though it’s breaking him inside.

“no, but you did,” you tell him. “you made this decision. you created this plan when you had mila back home, drew.”

he winces at her name. you can see it. but you don’t stop.

every day, every conversation, every moment you’ve spent together, he knew. and he said nothing.

your words slow down though, and the weight of them sinks in deeper. “i had finally gotten to a point after we broke up where i felt like i was free of us,” you say, voice quieter now, but raw. “i didn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. i was finally done with us.”

drew’s lips part like he’s about to say something, but he can’t, and you don’t give him the chance. “but here i am.” you let out a short, breathless laugh, as though even you can’t believe the mess you're in. “i mean, i didn’t think agreeing to this plan was going to work out perfectly, but—”

you stop, searching for the words, your throat tight with emotion. it takes everything in you to keep from crying. you look away from him, your voice going numb, the exhaustion seeping through. “but i didn’t think i’d end up feeling like this. like none of it ever really ended.”

you stand there for a moment, letting the weight of everything hang between you two. you wipe at the corner of your eye, then shake your head slightly, more in disbelief than anything else.

“so why?” you ask, “why didn’t you just tell me? why didn’t you say something from the beginning, when we started this whole thing?"

he looks at you, his jaw clenching, but his eyes are filled with guilt. he takes a deep breath, his face turned slightly to the side like he's trying to hold himself together.

“i fell in love with you,” he says, and you scoff. oh, he’s just now fallen in love? he realizes his mistake and gets up when you start to walk away, but he grabs you by the arms, “no, no, no, y/n please, i fell in love with this life—being with you again. i didn’t want to lose that. i’m still in love with you. i always have been. i just realized it too late.”

you can’t believe him. “but you did lose it, drew.” your voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “you lost it the moment you decided to lie. you didn’t just ruin this plan, this stupid fake relationship.”

you shrug him off of you.

“i thought,” your voice cracks, “i thought telling our friends the truth would make everything worse. i was so scared they’d feel like they had to walk on eggshells around us, like it’d be awkward if they knew what happened. but you know what? i wish i’d just told them. instead of this. instead of . . . all of this.”

“and it’s not just about mila,” you say, “even when you’re supposed to be my fake boyfriend, you’re still making decisions for me. you speak for me, like you always know better, like i can’t speak for myself.” you can feel your frustration bubbling to the surface, the heat rising in your chest as you push forward. “it’s like . . . no matter what happens, you still feel like you need to control everything.”

drew’s mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to respond, but you can’t stop now. the words tumble out, each one hitting you harder than the last.

“i mean, do you know how exhausting that is?” your voice rises, and you can feel your emotions slipping, coming out faster than you can stop them. “you made up the plan, you pulled back the moment i was getting comfortable again, even our breakup was your decision.”

his expression hardens, and you can see the conflict raging behind his eyes. “i thought we agreed there wasn’t any point in keeping up something that was barely there,” he says. “we were hardly talking or communicating, y/n. i mean, trying to keep up a relationship for us that wasn’t even really there? was it . . . do you think it would’ve been better if we didn’t break up? i mean—”

“yes! yes, it was worth it! i didn’t care if we weren’t always together!” you blink, caught off guard for just a second, but the fire inside you flares back to life. “and you said there wasn’t any point; not me. we’re busy people, drew, lives like ours don’t get spent every day how these two weeks are supposed to be. you have to know that. so i’m sorry that you felt enough was enough for us but you shouldn’t have had to decide what you thought was best for both of us and make that decision on your own without telling me!”

as you speak, you notice the way his face shifts, confusion and regret flickering in his eyes.

you exhale, shutting your eyes. “trust me, i spent nights worrying about us when we were together, replaying every moment, every doubt.” your voice lowers, becoming more vulnerable, almost a whisper. “and i told myself, ‘okay, that’s normal. that’s normal maybe. so you didn’t get a fairytale relationship; grow up.’”

“but i understood that . . . no matter what, i wouldn’t have left you because i loved you,” you cry, “i stayed because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

drew’s face crumbles at your words, and his gaze drops to the floor. you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you meet his gaze again. “look, i’m not going to say anything to anyone about mila,” you say. “but you need to figure this out, how we move on from here, and whether you’re going to tell her about this plan because i’m not gonna keep doing it if she’s not comfortable with it.”

drew nods slowly. he’s quiet, visibly processing everything. “i’ll do it,” he says, almost to himself, but you nod anyway. he takes a shuddering breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally speaks. “i didn’t mean to lose you,” he says, staring at the ground. “but i did. i know that now.”

you watch him for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you, before you turn away. your hand reaches for the door, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah, you did,” you whisper, voice broken as you open the door and hurry through, leave him standing there alone. “you did.”

drew stands there, frozen in place as the silence settles around him. he watches when you walk away until the laughter from outside fades into a distant echo, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his body heavy with regret.

“—fucking—” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. he leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs, and cradles his head in his hands while tears spill from his eyes. in that moment, he’s completely alone, engulfed by the realization that he pushed away the one person who mattered most.

“i’m gonna be back, okay?” libby tells you. you’re sitting in her bed, her and leila feeling like it’s only reasonable for her to step up, and she would’ve no matter what.

“hey,” you say before she goes, your fingers reaching her arm. she halts, looking at you again as she settles back down on the edge of the bed. “thank you for letting me sleep here tonight.”

she gives you a knowing look. “there’s no need y/n. my job is to make sure you’re comfortable and okay. your job is to get under my covers and drool on my pillows ‘til morning.”

“shut up,” you murmur and consider whacking her in the face with one of said pillows, but she leans forward to give you a hug. it’s gentle at first, and you’re relieved to feel a warmth from someone at a time like this. you feel like you can stay there forever, but she pulls away to leave the room.

there’s a knock at the door that startles you a bit, and you wait anxiously for who’s behind it. they open it quietly and peek their head in—roman?

he lets himself inside with cautious steps, and before you can speak he shushes you.

“keep it down, stupid,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. he takes maybe two steps forward and then stops there. “i just wanted to say sorry for not saying anything before at the peel.”

“the pearl.” you nod, your lips pursed. “thanks.”

he deadpans at you. “i don’t do this very often so i’d appreciate more than just a thanks, you kn—” he pauses to rephrase his words, and you can see the gears shift in his head. he sighs. “i fully saw that you were upset and i didn’t do anything. part of it was because i didn’t know if i should’ve but the other was that the food was just really good—”

“roman,” you try to tell him to get out, but he persists.

“no,” he tells you. he tries to search for the right words before continuing, “i’m just sorry. i don’t want to make it seem like i don’t care or that you don’t have anybody to talk to. and i’m not gonna jump the gun or be all enthusiastic the next time this happens but . . . i just won’t be quiet anymore.”

you’re taken aback by roman’s unexpected display of concern. you can’t tell if you’re imagining this. this has to be the first time you’ve probably ever known him that he’s being like this. but you nod slowly, absorbing his words. “thank you, roman,” you say softly, appreciating the effort he’s making. “it means a lot that you care.”

he shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory but pressing on anyway. “good,” he replies, his voice a little firmer. “because i might not always show it, but i do care. just . . . don’t think you have to go through stuff alone, alright? we’re friends, i guess, even if i don’t always act like it.”

you smile faintly, still surprised that he’s even still standing there. “i get it. i appreciate you saying something.”

“goodnight, y/n,” he says. just as he’s about to leave, he glances back, a knowing look in his eyes. “and just so you know, i get that things are complicated with starkey, but it’s pretty obvious you two aren’t really together. you don’t have to pretend around me.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a rush of vulnerability. how much does he really know? but before you can question him further, he’s already slipping out the door.

at the same time, libby slides past him with mugs of hot cocoa, “ew, what are you doing here?” she says to roman, avoiding him like he’s her brother. “get out of here.”

she kicks the door closed behind her, and her mood switches to a smile. “what was all that about? oh my god— did he hurt you? did he infect you?” she asks, feigning concern as she plops down next to you and handing you a mug. you take the mug and just shake your head with a grin.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull

[pendarling]

Curly & Dark

Hero lightly brushed their fingers against the tight curls and looked at their reflection.

"Oh, didn't you know? Villain likes looser and longer hair so..."

They were in shambles, and they hated to admit it. They didn't like their enemy, no, only offended that anyone could assume that at all. Especially their friend; why did they say that? Nothing was wrong with their curls, at least nothing they could think of. Who cares if Villain likes lighter skin and eyes?

That had nothing to do with them, and who told their friend what Villain preferred? They could be lying. Villain always lied.

Not to them, of course, or at least Hero hoped so. Villain was very careful with their words when they whispered sweet poems in their ear when they got too close for comfort in their hand-to-hand combats. Villain's eyes didn't lie when they stared longingly back at Hero; their body gave away their feelings. Hero knew it all too well and was confident that Villain couldn't care less about their dumb curls or their skin.

It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. It's a stupid claim, but it still hurts.

Hero's breathing quickened as they frowned deeply at themselves through the mirror with fingers caught up in the strands of hair and oh...

Hero thought, 'What a strange appearance. None of my peers look the way I do.' They huffed and walked slowly out of the bathroom, 'That should be a good thing. I stand out.'

It didn't feel good, however. Their head replayed the scene from earlier again.

Hero stood in front of their friend, and their friend smiled at them when they said it, trying to let them know kindly of the situation. They cared and didn't want Hero's heart to be broken when it would be revealed that Villain was just bullying them afterall.

"They have bad intentions; we all know Villain doesn't like curly hair, so it doesn't make sense... you're suit... yeah, that's probably why they said all that. If you wore something else, it would've been different."

Hero's suit now lay on their bed; they've worn it for years and never thought it played a part in their world. Was it too revealing? Inappropriate? Hero liked it; it was created to accommodate Hero's powers. They didn't think of it as anything else, but assuming it was attracting the wrong kind of attention, Hero was willing to wear something new.

They couldn't stop thinking all night after earlier. The next time they saw Villain, they should start ignoring them. Whatever Villain was up to was too cruel. If they hated someone that looked like them, then they should stop interacting completely.

At least that's what they told themselves to do, but still, Hero found themselves taking up another job that would require them to see Villain again.

They sat waiting on the ledge of their usual meeting spot on the roof of a building far from home. Any second now, they'd hear Villain's voice call their name with a ring in it that made their heart skip.

"There you are."

Hero sat up straighter and turned around. "Hi." Hero shyly spoke. It was less confident than they anticipated. Their hands immediately went to touch their hair again; the messy thing always got in the way, and they had taken the time to flat-iron it that morning before showing up. They couldn't remember the last time they straightened their hair; it's been a while, and they accidentally burned their ear with the hot rod in their haste to get it done as quickly as possible as if the curls were a disease.

"You look different," Villain noted, widely smiling as they set their gaze on them.

They swallowed their nervousness and stood up. "Uhm.. yeah, thought I could use a change."

"Looks good."

Hero wanted to ask if it was true. Still, something forced their tongue down even when silence fell into their conversation, where they'd usually idly chat for a good few more minutes before getting into their usual spar.

Villain's hand reached for their belt and pulled out the hilt of their sword. "May I have this dance?" They stepped closer and aimed at them, waiting for a response.

"Try to keep up this time." Hero's hand glowed a shallow colour, just enough to get them riled up.

They fought bravely as usual, each blow heavier than the last, quicker and matching Villain's attacks.

Their smile persisted throughout the entire duration. Hero dodged Villain's sword and slashed at the air with a sharp flick of their wrist. A thin line of energy burst from their hands, and the Villain deflected it with their sword.

Hero took another step back, catching the blade with their hand and twisting it away from their body, unaware that they'd run out of places to move as they felt their back pressed against a wall.

"So quick to lose," Villain smirked as they panted hard from their chest and out. Hero could feel their body buzzing with excitement; although some doubts still lingered, it was all irrelevant at this moment. "Or did you want me to corner you like this?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Hero breathed heavily, all too happy for their liking. They could feel the heat on their face, hotter than it was supposed to be after hardly fighting.

When Villain stepped closer, Hero felt their smile falter a bit. An unreasonable fear consumed their head as they repressed the feeling of touching their hair again. "Ever wonder," Villain began, "What it would be like outside the mask?" Their head tilted slightly with that same crooked smile they'd grown so used to.

"No..." Hero whispered, "There's nothing interesting."

Villain laughed lightly, "Not even yourself?" They leaned down closer, their fingers tapping at the hilt of their sword while Hero's sweating palms rubbed the rough brick behind them, memorizing every crevice.

"Not even myself." Their eyes flickered downward, then back up again, "And you?"

"I have lots to offer." They casually answered.

Hero rolled their eyes, "Sure you do."

They heard them huff and mock a shocked expression. "You're questioning me?" Villain placed a hand on their chest. "I have what you could only dream of-- what you couldn't comprehend."

"Like what?" Hero pressed.

The criminal shrugged and crossed their arms, "Nice try, but I'm selective about who I choose to tell."

'Selective.' Hero reiterated in their head and licked their lips; the feeling that tormented them the other night returned. Itching up their throat and successfully stopping Hero from pursuing the conversation any further.

"You're awfully quiet," Villain remarked and moved back from them slowly, their eyes analyzing the way Hero stood almost slumped up against the wall. "Usually, you're so much more hot-headed."

"You like hot-headed?" Hero quickly snapped. It came out more disgruntled than they wanted. Hero didn't know what overcame them; what was supposed to be a good sensation had burned into a simmering hatred for this strange relationship they had. Hero took a deep breath, their brows furrowed as they stared at their shoes and tried to stop themselves before it was too late.

"Relax." Villain's voice cut through their head. "I just wanted you to know that you're acting out of character."

Hero didn't even bother this time and felt their hands grasping at the air before they could understand. Each fist went flying at Villain, aiming to hit as hard as possible.

Villain played defence, avoiding each one of their punches with swift movements and slight turns. "What's the matter, Hero? I think you've gotten--"

"Shut up!" Their first, burning a bright array of white and yellow, shoved into the metal frame of a nearby door; the ground cracked beneath them upon impact, and Villain stumbled as they went behind Hero with that same obnoxious laughter.

Villain's brows raised, impressed as they whistled at the scene, "Careful, that could break your hand."

"I said stop talking to me!" Hero went to hit them again, throwing enough of their energy to tear Villain's sword away from their hands when they went to deflect again.

Hero never got Villain's weapon away from them before. It surprised them how much they could do, and the surprise made them nearly trip if Villain hadn't caught them just in time. Their powers faded slowly as Hero's emotions dropped back down again. Something about being held so closely has thrown them out of focus.

"I said be careful didn't I?" They softly uttered. Hero's heartbeat fell back into its strange rhythm as usual, a different kind of beat that played a romantic song in their head and repeated itself for weeks. It was then that they grew keenly aware where Villain's hand were placed, so neatly on each side of their waist and so gentle with them. Hero's eyes blinked with confusion until they buried their head into Villain's chest.

"Sorry." They muffled the apology, still holding tears back.

"It's okay." Villain's hands grasped at their suit, slightly tugging at its edges.

They shook their head, "No, it's not." Their lips trembled, and a few drops of tears escaped them as their mind muddled in the confusion of being torn between truth and agonizing desperation. They couldn't stop themselves from saying what they hoped they could hide, "Do you like curly?" Hero heard themselves whisper, wishing they had more control over what they said when Villain didn't respond right away.

Villain's fingers paused. "What? Your hair?"

Hero could only nod, too afraid that the next time they spoke, they would start sobbing uncontrollably.

"I like curly." They murmured. "I like curly... and I like dark." Villain moved one hand to their back, rotating up and down. "Is that what's bothering you?"

Hero sniffled, feeling silly more than ever. "It isn't just teasing then." They said, more to themselves than to their enemy. They smiled under them, their knuckles still stung from the last hit, but that was behind Hero now.

They briefly stood in silence until Villain questioned them again. "Who told you I didn't like it?"

Hero cleared their throat. "A friend."

"Friend?" They stretched the word, sounding more startled as Villain worked through a list of names they'd seen Hero with before. "Which one?"

"The one with blond hair." They answered slowly.

"Hero." They called.

They lifted their head, eyes still foggy. "Yeah?"

"Do me a favour," Villain's thumb came to wipe their tear, "and don't listen to them."

~~~

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[archivalofsins]

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm )- It was brought to my attention by a concerned friend inquiring if something had happened yesterday that this post can come off as complaining about a fandom issue of some sort. Because of how often "Don't be like x" (in particularly Futa) has been used in regards to ongoing Milgram fandom incidents.

It was not my intention to invoke those sort of alarming past experiences for anyone that may have come across this post. My intentions when writing this were to interrogate the prevalence of that phrasing when it came to Futa as a character while including the prisoner paired with him known for bullying as well.

To put it in a plain and jovial way- These are my feelings in regards to this topic in a meme format,

Since I have now been informed of how emotionally disruptive this phrasing can be given the things it's been associated with in the past at least within the tumblr Milgram community I will be putting it under a cut with one more addendum further down that uses the same phrasing.

Once again saying to not be like Mu.

It's easy for individuals to understand why they shouldn't be like Futa. In a lot of ways, not many people would see their actions as being similar to his even when they are. This is why I stress not to be like Mu either.

Because it seems to me that a lot of people are comfortable with being bullies as long as they convince themselves they were the victim first.

A trait that's present throughout both Futa and Mu's narratives. Even if not many people recognize how emotionally manipulative, insidious, and abusive this sort of behavior is socially.

Because just like with these two, some will convince themselves it's the other parties fault for doing something wrong first.

That the person who did something wrong should just,

"You apologize if you do something wrong, you learn that even before words, don't you?"

Q.09 Do you want to apologise to the person you killed?

Mu: I think the person who did something wrong first should apologise first.

These two are simply not as different as some fans like to tell themselves. They are both reactionary bullies. Just because one goes on offense (attacks) and the other defense (cries/deflects) doesn't make one any better than the other. That's why they both got into codependent relationships with another prisoner over the first trial intermission.

Both Amane and Haruka provide them with something. Giving Futa and Mu hope and help in a difficult situation. Along with something to do with themselves to prove their own worth. They also both took on a naturing and protective role in Amane and Haruka's lives. Making the other their main priorities as of the second trial.

23/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Futa: Oi, you. Is he ok? He’s not even left his room lately.

Mu: You mean Haruka-kun? Hmm. Yeah, probably. I’ve been bringing all his meals to him so he should be fine. Isn’t that great of me?

Futa: Hah? Who the hell says that sort of thing about themself. ……ah, no, well, right now I understand a bit. When you’re feeling down, it’s nice to have someone who relies on you and accepts you. The rest of us can’t really understand you from where we’re standing. But well, if you’re Haruka’s “salvation” then I guess it really is great.

Mu: Salvation……? I don’t know what you mean. Futa-kun, you don’t sound like yourself. Did you hit your head or something? Oh, wait, you actually did, didn’t you. Ahaha. Ah, putting that aside though, did you know it’s my birthday today?

Q.02 What do you think of Haruka?

Futa: I can’t afford to be worrying about other people at the moment. Anyway, he’s not a little kid.

This is also why one of my first posts discussed them together. They were both even abandoned by their groups,

"Everyone else was having fun, weren't they? What about them?! Why is it just me?!"

Q.18 Do you regret anything?

Mu: I think maybe I should have chosen my friends a bit more carefully.

Q.11 Who do you want to see right now?

Mu: I miss my friends too. But most of all, Papa and Mama.

Yeah, don't be like either of them, actually.

This is not a healthy thing to strive for. The only difference between them is that Futa takes the orders, and Mu gives them. Aptly portrayed in the relationships they've formed over the course of Milgram.

Also, a bully is a bully regardless of if they cry about it. Women have been weaponizing crying for decades. Stop pretending like this is a brand new undiscovered form of manipulation it's not.

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm ) continued: Also it was not intent to specifically call to attention Mu's characters flaws or take any digs at people who relate to her. Saying things like don't be like x character can be inconsiderate towards individuals who relate to that character a lot especially if it's something done on a consistent enough basis.

These are once again my feelings on that in meme format.

[pamwritessometimes]

What he doesn’t know

Sam Winchester x witch!reader

Summary: You’re hiding two dangerous secrets from Sam. Little did you know, he’s just uncovered one, but it’s not the one you think.

Warnings: none?

The night was heavy, the air thick with anticipation. You sat at the edge of the motel bed, fingers nervously twisting an emerald green ring on your hand. It had been months now, months of this dance with Sam Winchester.

You met him and his older brother while they tried to take down a vengeful spirit in the library you were working at the time. Once they found out you were more than aware of the supernatural—what’s more, a hunter of evil yourself— they decided to invite you to join them on occasional hunts. What they didn’t know was that you weren’t just a regular hunter, but something else…something they and you should be hunting.

It was over a week ago when Sam called you for help on a certain ghoul hunt. When you arrived at the motel you agreed to meeting at, you were surprised to see the classic Impala of the Winchester’s nowhere in sight. It was unusual. You had went on numerous hunting trips with the boys; the Impala, Dean’s Baby was always a pivotal part of the journey. When you knocked on the door of the room Sam said he’d rented, you were surprised to see Sam, and Sam only, in the room. Turns out Dean ditched this one time.

Doing a hunt with Sam was hard. The stolen glances, the lingering touches. It was driving you insane, not knowing what he thought, not knowing how long your secret could stay hidden. You weren’t just another hunter passing through his life. You were a witch. A born-hunter, but life played the cruelest joke on you possible. It was a secret you’d kept buried since the moment you met him. It was a dangerous game, falling for someone who, by all rights, would probably see you as the enemy if he ever found out. But you couldn’t help it. Sam was different; kind, strong, thoughtful in a way that made your chest tighten every time he was near.

Tonight, though, something felt off. The hunt was over and you two decided to stay just one more night to take a well-deserved rest. He had been watching you all day, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece something together. Every time you caught his eye, your stomach twisted with dread. What if he knew?

You heard the door creak open, and Sam stepped inside, his tall frame filling the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, eyes locked on you like he could see right through your skin.

“Sam” you started, your voice unsteady. He seemed so tense and so confused, you wondered what could’ve Dean told him when he went out to inform him about the success of the ghoul story. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crossed the room slowly, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor until he was standing right in front of you. His gaze was piercing and unreadable, which made your heart race in your chest. “You’ve been acting different lately.”

Your pulse quickened. You tried to keep your expression calm, but panic clawed at you. Had he found out? Had he somehow figured out the magic that simmered just beneath the surface?

“I—” You struggled for words, anything that might explain away the tension between you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, so close now you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His voice dropped to a low, husky murmur. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitched as the panic bubbled up. This was it. He knew. Somehow he must have figured it out. And there was no going back. “Sam, I…”

But he didn’t let you finish. His hand came up, his fingers brushing gently against your red cheek and the touch made your heart skip a beat. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that intensity that always left you breathless.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was something raw in his tone, something that made you ache.

You blinked, your mind racing a million miles per hour. Did he already know? Was he waiting for you to confess? You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the fear. “I… I didn’t know how.”

His eyes searched yours like he was trying to read your soul. “You didn’t have to be scared” he said softly, his thumb now tracing the line of your jaw.

Your chest tightened painfully. He was still touching you, still standing so close, and it made your head spin. His presence always had this effect on you. But why was he being so gentle? Why wasn’t he angry? “Sam, I—”

“I already know” he said, cutting you off again, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart plummeted. He knew. How long had he known? Weeks? Months? And he still stood here, looking at you like—

Wait. He wasn’t looking at you with anger or betrayal. He was looking at you with something else entirely. Something… softer.

Your stomach flipped. “You know?”

Sam nodded, his hand still cupping your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “Dean told me.”

You blinked, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Wait… what are we talking about?” you asked. You are certain you would remember if you had told Dean that you were a witch. But you kept this secret from everyone around you, especially the Winchesters.

Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused. “You’re in love with me, right?” he asked sheepishly, now contemplating whether Dean fucked him up or not.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Your mouth fell open slightly as the realization hit you. He didn’t know you were a witch. He thought you were hiding something else entirely.

“I—what?” You asked, your mind desperately trying to keep up. And then you remembered. It all came back in a blur. Sam, Dean and you were celebrating a successful hunt a couple of weeks ago at a rundown bar. You decided to clear the rum supply as a celebratory activity and in a blurry, dizzy moment of yours you managed to spill your feelings towards Sam to Dean. That bastard. He set up you two to come and do this hunt alone. It all was his genius idea.

Sam pulled back slightly, a cautious, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, I wasn’t sure at first… but you’ve been acting so different. And Dean told me that you— I thought maybe you were avoiding me because of… you know, how you feel.” he stammered, mentally contemplating how to murder Dean for making him look like a fool in front of you.

You stared at him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He thought the secret you were hiding was your feelings for him. The irony of it almost made you laugh. But instead, you just stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say.

“I—Sam, it’s not…” You started, but your voice faltered under the weight of his hopeful gaze. There was hope in his eyes to which you couldn’t say no to.

He took a deep breath and he stepped closer again, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest gently, almost hesitantly on your waist. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” he said softly, though you could hear the disappointment in his voice,“I just… I needed you to know that I—”

Your mind was spinning, torn between the truth you had been hiding and the one Sam thought he had discovered. You opened your mouth to tell him the truth—the other truth—but the words wouldn’t come. You weren’t ready.

You let out a shaky breath. “Sam…” you said and cut him off.

His eyes flickered with hope again, and this time, you didn’t stop yourself. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant. But the moment Sam responded, pulling you closer, it deepened, and all the tension, all the fear melted away. Momentarily, though.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his and both of you were breathing hard. You felt his hand tighten gently around your waist, keeping you close.

“You do feel the same” he murmured, a genuine smile almost audible in his voice as he spoke.

You nodded, closing your eyes, not ready to speak the whole truth just yet. For now, it didn’t matter. For now, the only truth that mattered was the one that made your heart grow fonder.

Thanks for reading. 🤍

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

[holyblankbatman]

i love jason’s anxious little idle animation, so timid, so polite

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[pathologicalreid]

hi! i was wondering if i could request a spencer x fem kindergarten teacher! reader who has to be interviewed by the team when something happens to one of her students (they find him) and spencer sees her and is just like in love immediately. thank you so so much!

kindergarten crush | S.R.

when one of your students goes missing, the BAU sends the A-team to ask you some questions

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to child abuse/endangerment but nothing detailed, kindergarten teacher!reader, spencer is smitten, emily is such an older sister, average cm case stuff word count: 1.86k a/n: ugh if you know how much i love teachers then you know how much i loved writing this!!!! tysm for requesting!

“Don’t teachers leave school when it ends?” Emily asked, following the secretary through the elementary school hallways.

The secretary glanced behind her to make sure Spencer was still following, “Contract hours end at four in the afternoon, which is about twenty minutes after the last bell,” she responded. “Some teachers are in charge of after-school clubs or they’ll stay to grade or plan for the next day, but the rest head home at the end of the day,” she continued.

Emily nodded in understanding, “And when does Ms. Y/L/N usually leave for the day?”

For a moment, the secretary’s resigned expression faltered to one of concern, “Once all of her students leave for the day.”

“Is that usually at a different time every day?” Spencer asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as they turned another corner, the walls were coated in colorful flowers with the names of what he could only assume were the kindergarteners scrawled on them.

There was nothing but a sigh from the secretary as she considered her answers, “That might just be a better question for you to ask her.” She continued leading the way until she stopped in front of a door that was being held open by a doorstop, knocking on the door, she peeked her head in, “Y/N?”

From where he was standing, Spencer could see your head peek out from beneath a desk, but once you recognized that you had unexpected guests, you stood up straight, “Oh, hi,” you greeted, hastily walking around the clusters of tables as you made your way to the door.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Emily asked, pulling her credentials out when you confirmed your name, Spencer followed suit, “We’re Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid with the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit, do you have the time to answer a few questions about a case we’re working on?”

The bright smile that had initially been on your face quickly fell as you eyed the FBI credentials in front of you, “Oh, Cody,” you murmured. Stepping to the side, you gave the two federal agents space to enter your classroom.

Prentiss thanked the secretary before stepping into your space, “Oh, it’s colorful in here,” she said.

“It’s a kindergarten classroom,” Spencer responded quickly, “Studies show that there’s a link between bright colors and brain development, so these colors are probably conducive to a productive learning environment.”

He went over to the side of your classroom, watching you as you nervously wrapped your arms around yourself, “Thank you?” You said quizzically, not sure if you should take what he was saying as a compliment, “You are here about Cody, right? Cody Jenkins?”

Spencer nodded, “We are, you knew immediately, though.”

You moved your hand to cover your heart as if it was racing, “I was worried when he wasn’t here yesterday, but I knew when I didn’t see him today that something was wrong.” Your eyes flickered between Emily and himself, waiting for either one of them to say something, “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Why were you so worried when Cody didn’t come to school for two days?” Emily asked, tilting her head to the side, raven black hair catching in the fluorescent school lighting.

Sitting down at your desk, you sighed, “Cody loves school. He’d never miss a day unless it was absolutely necessary – I’m the one who brought the first concern to the administration that there might be problems at home, but…”

Raising her dark eyebrows in curiosity, Emily shared a look with Spencer, “But what?”

Watching you, Spencer noticed the way you nervously fiddled with a beaded bracelet on your wrist, although he couldn’t quite make out what the lettered beads spelled, he was able to deduce that the bracelet was important to you. “What’s on your bracelet?” He asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, he craned his head to try and read it on his own.

“Oh,” you said, looking down at the bracelet as if you needed reassurance that it was still there, “A student made it for me a long time ago. When I was still a student teacher,” you looked at the beaded creation fondly, “The mascot was the dolphins, so it just says ‘dolphin’. Spelled with an F, of course, because she was four.”

Once he knew what the bracelet said, he was able to make out the words, even noting the dolphin charm at the end of the word, “You care a lot about your students,” he said, stating the obvious, but the words seemed to put you at ease. “What do you know about Cody’s home life?”

Your eyes widened as you looked back up at Spencer and he tried to make himself seem as friendly as possible. “I know his parents have had some trouble – his dad has a bad history, as I’m sure you know, but his mom is a good person,” you said, reaching your hand up and scratching the back of your neck.

“But she never left Cody’s father,” Emily said questioningly, seeking confirmation more than anything else.

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you shrugged, “I’ve never been in that situation before, I don’t get to speak on the difficulty of leaving, but I can tell you that she’s a good person – she loves her son.”

“You care a lot about your students,” Spencer noted aloud, he looked around at the clusters of tables – each table was stocked with the same supplies. You even had a snack station at the back of your classroom.

Quickly, you nodded, “I don’t believe in kids getting a lesser education just because they don’t have the money or the support system at home. I do what I can,” you admitted. “Do you… do you think Cody’s dad did something to him?”

Sadly, Emily affirmed your question, “He’s a person of interest in the case.”

Pressing your lips in a thin, white line, you slouched back into your office chair, “Sometimes I wonder if there’s more to do. The state requires me to teach these kids about stranger danger, but last year a majority of AMBER Alerts that went out were for family abduction.”

“I’m sorry that you know that, Ms. Y/L/N,” Spencer told you.

You brushed off his apology, “For eight hours a day, five days a week, it’s my job to keep these kids safe – even if that means knowing things that I don’t like.”

Both Spencer and Emily accepted this, and they continued to ask you a few questions about what you knew about Cody. From your point of view, he was just a kid trapped in a bad situation, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it ever hurt you to send him home at the end of the day.

As the two of them left the elementary school, he shook his head in disbelief, “She made three reports on the father, and none of them were taken seriously by the school.”

“I know, Reid,” Emily commiserated, “So, the teacher?”

Her question came when the two of them piled into the SUV, giving her a bewildered look, Spencer furrowed his brows, “What about her?”

Emily scoffed, “’You care so much about your students,’” She said in a mocking voice, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on her chest, “’Oh, I’m so sorry that you have to know that information’. What was that about the colors in her classroom?”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer sat back in the passenger seat, “Okay, first of all, I do not sound like that. Second of all, I was building rapport – you should try it sometime.”

She chuckled from the driver’s seat, tossing a piece of paper in his general direction before placing her hands near the bottom of the steering wheel, “Here, this is for you.”

“What is it?” He asked as he took the paper and unfolded it.

Humming, Emily didn’t even look as she responded, “I wrote down her room number for you, so you can go ask her out once this case is over.”

Your door was closed when he got there and he wasn’t quite sure if he should knock or just give up. It wasn’t a far drive to get to your school from Quantico, and if he could ever work up the courage to make the drive again, he could always try then.

Lifting his hand to knock, he hesitated again, opening his palm and letting his hand drop to his side. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself, taking the sticky note that Emily had ‘gifted’ him and triple-checking the room number as if his memory and your name on the door weren’t enough confirmation.

Giving up, he turned around, stuffing the paper in his pocket as he did so, and almost running into you in the process, “Oh!” You said, stumbling back and taking a moment to reorient yourself before meeting his eyes. “Oh,” you repeated, softer this time, “Dr. Reid, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Spencer,” he corrected and immediately cringed. “I mean, I’m not here in any professional capacity, so… you can just call me Spencer.”

Flashing him a bright smile, you grinned in response, “It’s nice to see you again, Spencer.” You proceeded to tell him he could call you by your first name before inviting him into your classroom.

Looking around the room, the colors of the space once again made him feel welcome, “You’re here late,” he observed, looking up at the clock and noticing that it had passed your contract hours while he stood outside your door.

You nodded, “It’s the first of the month tomorrow, so I need to switch over my calendars and everything.” You went to pick up a dry-erase marker from the whiteboard, “Um, have you… did you find Cody?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately, remembering the excuse he had given the team when he told them he was going back to visit you. Morgan and Emily weren’t likely to let him forget. “He’s safe, and it looks like he’ll be able to stay with his mom,” he informed you, relishing the way his words put you at ease.

Any remaining stiffness in your stature faded, and the weight of your missing student was officially off of your shoulders. “Thank you – and thank you for coming back to let me know,” you said, putting your hands behind your back, the two of you seemingly at an impasse.

Taking a deep breath Spencer braced himself, “I actually didn’t come back for that. No, I mean, I did. I wanted to let you know that Cody was safe because you were worried and he’s a kid so obviously that was something that I thought you deserved to know since-“

“Spencer?” You said quizzically, smiling at him as he rambled on about your previously missing student, “What else was there?”

His eyes widened as you smiled at him, “Would you want to go out? With me?”

Your smile dropped from your face, and he began to emotionally prepare himself to lay face down on his couch tonight, but what you said next surprised him, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[sunandflame]

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers. 

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

 “Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant. 

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. 

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful- 

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go…  I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again. 

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?” 

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair. 

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers. 

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.” 

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them. 

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku!  You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue. 

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple. 

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again. 

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly. 

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap. 

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt. 

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss. 

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. 

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.  

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother. 

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.” 

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap. 

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

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[ilyrafe]

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: ex!rafe cameron x ex!f!reader

warnings: angst, pregnancy scare

word count: 1.6k

“i need to talk to you, it’s urgent. can i come over?”

the text catches rafe by surprise as he hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks. since the breakup, to be specific.

despite not being your boyfriend anymore, rafe still cares for you a great deal, and you rarely text him stuff like this, so it must be serious.

“of course.”

he puts his phone down and begins to wonder what must have happened for you to break your own idea of going no contact.

this has been killing him, not being able to talk to you. he misses you more than he anticipated and it sucks. it’s horrible not having you around, and the saddest bit is that he has no one else to blame but himself.

him and his ways.

half an hour later, he hears a knock on the door and before he can stand up from the chair, you come in. you seem anxious. terrified, even.

“hey.”

“hey, what’s so urgent?”

“i’m late.” you say, but rafe frowns, not quite understanding what you mean. “i’m late, rafe.”

“late?”

“my period, rafe. i’m late.”

oh.

oh, no.

“h-how late are you? i thought you took the pill!”

“i did, but i am a week late. so, i wanna know what we’re gonna do about it.”

rafe needs to breathe, it seems that all the air has left the room. he takes a step back and rubs his face with both hands, trying to be rational.

you’re probably pregnant with his child. this is not how he imagined this was going to happen. it turns out, rafe is quite traditional.

“what do you want to do?”

you seem a bit surprised with his question.

“i… i don’t know, rafe. we’re too young.”

“i’m good with whatever you decide. if you want to keep it, i won’t, uh, i won’t be absent. i’ll provide for you both, i’ll do everything i have to. and if you don’t want to keep it, i’ll pay for it.”

this isn’t going how you were expecting, if you’re being honest. you expected a fight, you expected rafe to claim it wasn’t his child, but… he’s being mature about it, which is new.

truthfully, you don’t know what you want. sure, you’d like children, but not now. not when you’re nineteen and don’t have a clue about what you’re doing in life. not when you don’t have a partner, a job, a house. not when the father of your child is rafe cameron, a drug addict with anger issues.

“i’d like to buy some tests first before i decide what i want to do.”

he nods and takes his car keys, leading you out of the office and taking you to his car.

it doesn’t take long for him to drive you to the nearest drugstore. when he parks the car, you don’t move an inch.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“i can’t believe this is happening to me.” you say, not being able to hold the tears any longer. this is a nightmare. “what am i gonna tell my parents?”

“you’ll tell them the truth. you’re pregnant and you won’t be doing this alone, i’m here.”

you look at rafe quite skeptically and try your best to believe him, but he’s broken your trust so many times before, it’s difficult to see any honesty in his words.

“not telling them anything and getting an abortion is also an option, you know? we don’t have to tell anybody. whatever it is that you decide, i’m cool with it.”

for your own sake, you choose to believe him and wipe away your tears before you exit his car and go to the drugstore.

you try not to look so suspicious, but you’re looking around, to make sure no one you know is there, and thankfully you’re safe. you buy three different tests and quickly come back to rafe’s car.

the drive back home is excruciating. you can already picture your future as a single mother. you fear what your parents will say if you are indeed pregnant, which you probably are. you’re never late. when you were two days late, you thought it was odd, but then the days kept passing by and nothing happened.

then you did the math.

rafe, on the other hand, is actually happy that you might be pregnant with his child. he always knew he wanted to be a father. this is probably not the best time because you’re not a couple, you’re not really adults, and you don’t really have a stable life, but hey, this is what happens when you have unprotected sex. sure, you took the pill, but no contraceptive is one hundred percent effective.

this kid may be rafe’s only chance to have you somehow linked to him forever and that isn’t a bad thing necessarily… right?

once you’re back to tanney hill, you and rafe nearly run to his bedroom and he makes sure to lock the door so no one can catch them. you open them all and read all the instructions to do it right. you enter his bathroom and once you’re done, rafe has expectant eyes.

“so?”

“we have to wait five minutes.”

“oh, let me set a timer.”

he pulls up his phone and sets a five minute timer while you sit on his bed and sigh as you look up, trying to remain calm, but you can’t.

“i think we should talk about our… possibilities.”

“what possibilities?”

“if you are pregnant and want to keep it, you won’t be doing this alone, okay? i promise. i know this isn’t ideal, but… we’ll get through it. money isn’t a problem.”

“rafe, this isn’t the point. i don’t want to have a baby at nineteen with someone who isn’t my husband. like, i respect the ones who do it, but i don’t want this to be my life.”

rafe chuckles. you’re such a goodie-goodie, he wonders how the hell he managed to get you to date him.

“c’mon, you’ll be a great mom.” he says, truthfully. “you’re great with kids and you’re so caring, so understanding.”

you look at him and chuckle.

“that’s not only what it takes to be a mother.”

“but that’s also important.”

you lie down on his bed and take a deep breath. if rafe wasn’t so unstable, you’d consider having his baby, but… he’s not. he’s being good now, but you can’t predict how he’s going to be tomorrow morning and you can’t raise a child in this environment. you know better than that.

“if you’re keeping the baby, i’m getting clean.” he says. “i’ll quit everything.”

“rafe…”

“i’m serious. i don’t want my kid to be afraid of me, to be in danger because of me.”

the last part breaks your heart a little, as it was one of the reasons why you decided to break things off with him.

“that’s… that’s good to know.”

“i know we don’t need to be married to have a kid, but it’d be nice to, i don’t know, try again.”

“you want to get back together because i’m pregnant?” you snort.

“i want to get back together because i miss you and i love you, and since you might be pregnant, i think it’d be better for us to try again, so our baby can have a full family. you know, mom and dad in the same space.”

our baby. hearing rafe say such things make you even more confused and aggravated, only because you know, deep down, rafe isn’t the right guy for you, as much as you love each other. you know you’re too good for him because even barry told you so.

“he’s a lost cause, y/n. don’t be wastin’ your time with him, he’ll get you in trouble and you don’t deserve that.”

“stop saying things like that, rafe. please, this isn’t the time.” you plead, trying not to cry.

god knows how difficult it was to end things with him, because you love him oh so much. as cliché as it sounds, he’s really not like the other guys. he’s sweet, caring, funny and smart, but he also keeps setting himself up for failure and you’ve realized you can’t fix him and that realization alone broke you in tiny little pieces.

it’s like they say, loving someone is also learning to let them go and this is what you’ve been trying to do. it kills you that you told him to never talk to you again, because you miss his voice. you miss his jokes. you miss hearing his voice saying your name or whatever silly nickname he comes up with.

his phone rings, startling you both. once again, you don’t move, so rafe takes you by the hand and enter his bathroom with you. on the counter, you take the tests and see the results.

negative

negative

negative

the relief you feel is indescribable. you can finally breathe.

“what does it say?” he asks, a bit anxious.

“they’re all negative.” you respond, showing him the tests.

“oh,”

“oh, my god.” you sigh, smiling for the first time in a week. you turn to rafe and give him a hug. “thank you, rafe.”

rafe hugs you back, basking in the feeling of having you back in his arms again. for a few seconds, he allows himself to forget you both are broken up and just had a pregnancy scare. for a few seconds, you’re his again and nothing else matters.

“you okay?”

“now i am.” you chuckle, wiping away new tears.

“d’you want me to drive you home?”

“no, no, it’s okay. i’ve bothered you too much today.” you say, jokingly.

whenever you said that, he always said you never bother me, but he figures now it would be inappropriate.

“call me if you need anything, okay?”

“okay. thank you.”

you give him one last smile before you get your things and leave tanney hill, feeling light as a feather, not at all suspecting that rafe feels like absolute shit.

when you pictured your life as a single mother, rafe saw himself with a family. his own family. the people he would do anything and everything for, the people he would love endlessly.

the only hope he had of having you back in his life, the only thing that would make him turn his life around, the only person who would make him want to be a better person.

it never existed.

tell me what you think! i love feedback <3

[swordsandholly]

Little Death

Incubus!Soap x fem fat reader | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI | cw: dubcon, noncon, drinking, biting, afab reader, blood, PiV sex, cunnilingus, anal, monsterfucking, size difference, kidnapping, dead dove

Word Count: 4.5k

You sit in your apartment on your worn out couch, sipping a glass of shitty gas station wine at some godforsaken hour in the morning. Just like you do nearly every night these days. Love Island plays loudly on the TV while you try to drown out the overbearing silence that seems to cling to you. It surrounds you at all times, everything just a little too quiet. A little too distant.

You knew getting divorced would be lonely. You didn’t expect it to be this bad.

Your eye connects with a piece of paper that’s been living on your side-of-the-road coffee table for the past… who knows at this point. The friend that gave it to you meant well. She intended it to be a funny, light hearted gesture. Instead, you just feel pathetic. The pitiable fat girl that can’t get a date. Not that she’d be wrong. Out of drunk boredom, or maybe sheer desperation, you grab the stupid cut out article. It’s some plasticky, cheap print with the title ‘How To Summon A Lover’ which is probably the laziest headline in the world for a supposed spell.

Are you lonely? The summary asks, Do you need some special company? Just follow these steps and get exactly what you’re looking for!

It’s stupid. It’s corny. Luckily - or unfortunately - you are just drunk enough to take part in stupid and corny. Your eyes graze over the materials list - paper, a red marker, a metal baking sheet, and a stick candle. Your brow scrunches. You suppose you can sacrifice one of your outdated, unused decor candles that sit on your mantle. You gather the supplies with clumsy, uneven steps.

Fuck your ex. Fuck him for making you this sad and pathetic. Fuck him for piling on the insecurity, for isolating you and taking nearly all your friend group. For all of it. You plop down on your rug, items in hand and thoughts swirling angrily.

Step 1: Place the paper on the baking sheet

Step 2: Draw a pentagram

You roll your eyes. Of fucking course it’s a pentagram. You do it, still.

Step 3: Write “I Light The Flame of Desire” on each side of the page

Step 4: Place the candle in the center of the paper

Step 5: Light the candle and concentrate on your intention until it burns out.

You regret picking up such a big candle.

When you wake your mouth is dry and your back aches. The sunlight offends your eyes when you attempt to crack them open. You must have fallen asleep on the floor at some point. You look down at the mess in front of you. The candle burnt the paper into almost nothing at some point. Thank god the article told you to put it on a baking sheet.

You feel so fucking stupid.

You stumble into the shower, allowing the hot water to help rouse you from your hungover, groggy state. That feeling of stupidity tickles the back of your mind. It’s not like you expected it to work - really, what’s making your heart twist and shame crawl up your back is the disappointment, is that it didn’t. At least you don’t have to work today. You don’t particularly feel like being around people. Not that you do the rest of the time.

As you turn to get out, fear strikes through you at a shadow in your periphery through the fogged shower glass. Just as soon as you see it, it disappears. You shrug it off, heart still thumping wildly as you towel off. Something in your gut churns as you do your best to get ready for the day. An unease that won’t leave as you make yourself at least appear like someone with their life together. A feeling that someone is watching makes your hair stand on end.

You send up a thank you to the universe that you managed to get up early enough to make it to the grocery store during quiet hours. While buckling your seatbelt, that shadow comes back. Right behind you, in the back seat. It’s gone as soon as you check the rearview mirror. You let out a shaky breath. It keeps happening. While you get your shopping cart, while you choose produce. Every time you turn an isle, it’s there. It sends shivers down your spine. Some black, effervescent shape that follows you worse than a shadow. That catches your eye even when you consciously try to ignore it. You really need to lay off the drinking.

As soon as you get home, you toss everything from the night before - including the baking sheet. Some superstitious part of you rears its head, telling you to walk the damn thing all the way to the outside dumpster rather than leave it to fester in your personal trash. You don’t believe in ghosts or spirits. You’re sure you just drank too much, that you slept strangely and it fucked with your head. That not speaking to anyone besides brief interactions with coworkers and customers for weeks on end has left you jumpy and off. Maybe you really should see that therapist your lawyer talked about. She’s expensive though, and not covered by your insurance…

You turn over another bottle of wine in your hand, wrinkling your nose. Not tonight. Not when you turn to put the bottle down and nearly jump into the ceiling at some shape moving to the living room from behind you. Only in your periphery, only vague images, leaving you uneasy. You toss and turn when you finally get into bed. It still feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s a camera just over your shoulder, or in the ceiling fan, staring down at you. For the first time since you were small, you bury yourself under the covers and screw your eyes shut, hoping it will save you from the monsters under your bed and in your head.

You stir at a weight dipping your bed. It’s slight, so slight you almost miss it entirely, until it isn’t. Until whatever it is moves again and you feel something brush over your legs. In a panic, still half asleep, you turn onto your back, fists flying through the air only to be caught by inhumanly large hands. You flail, kicking as a scream catches in your throat.

“Shh, sh, yer a’right.” A distinctly Scottish brogue coos, pinning you to the bed without so much as a grunt. You finally manage to open your eyes properly. He’s big - eyes a bright, unnatural blue with a wild light in them. When he grins at you it exposes long fangs where his normal canines should be. Two horns poke out from his head, the shorn sides of his haircut further exposing them. There’s an unnatural red tint to his skin, darkening to nearly pure crimson at the ends of his exposed limbs. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh- who the fuck are you?” You squeak, far less threatening than you might have liked.

The beast’s grin only widens. “Donnae ye know? Ye called me, after all.”

Your eyes widen to saucers as you stare up at him. Did- there’s no way that stupid spell worked! It was a cut out from a damn off-brand Cosmopolitan. It was stupid sleepover bullshit. It was - It’s wasn’t- You couldn’t have summoned a real, actual factual demon into your apartment. No, this has to be a prank or intruder or - or hallucination even.

You try to shove at his chest as soon as he retracts his hands, a weak attempt at escaping. Part of you expects to phase through him - to wake up in your quiet, dark bedroom. Except his hands are very much real and warm as they pin your wrists back against the mattress. The silhouette of massive wings block out the little bit of moonlight that might have otherwise drifted through the slit in your curtains. You can barely make him out, now. Those too-bright eyes glint like a cat’s as he stares down at you.

“Now, why did ye call me, little one?” He leans in, nose brushing against yours before ducking his head down to lick a long stripe up your neck.

Your face heats, mouth struggling to form words. “I… didn’t think it was real…”

“Tha’s not a reason.” Too-sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear.

“I just… why do you want to know anyway?” You spit defensively, thrashing under him in a sudden burst of confidence - or desperation. You’re not sure. It does fuck-all for you, the beast pinning your thighs under his weight. A deep, warning growl rumbles in his chest. You freeze at the sound - some ancient instinct telling you to stop all action and pray it saves you.

“It’s no’ polite t’dodge my question, bonnie.”

You whimper involuntarily, his sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck with just enough pressure to threaten a bite. The words tumble from your lips near incoherently, “I haven’t- I’ve only been with one person… for a long time. I’m nervous… about a second…”

He hums. Something brushes your shin - a tail, you think. You can’t make it out in the dark. “Whit’s yer name, doll?”

You blurt it, a little horrified at giving that information to some supernatural creature. For some reason you find yourself following it up with, “What’s yours?”

He laughs and mulls it over, jaw clenching briefly, as if he can’t make up his mind about what it is. “Call me Soap, aye?”

You snort despite yourself and he - Soap - quirks a brow. “Weird name for a demon.”

“Incubus.” He corrects.

You have half a mind to complain when he tears your nightgown off before you can react. The cloth rips fast, practically disintegrating in his rough hands. That’s until he climbs down the bed, taking one nipple between his lips and flicking the other. Your back arches, hands fisting the sheets. You let out an indignant ow when he bites down on the fat of your breast, leaving a mark just shy of drawing blood. Soap ignores it, continuing to lavish them with attention as he sees fit. Your thighs press together and you can’t help but squirm, becoming desperate for more in spite of the voice in your head telling you to run. He senses it, you think, moving down your body leaving nips and bites in his path before settling between your thighs. He takes your underwear off in much the same fashion, turning them to shreds in barely a moment. His wings disappear into the shadows - there but not simultaneously. Shifting in and out of your vison.

“Look a’ tha’.” He sighs. “Whit a pretty pussy. Cannae believe yer lettin’ her go unused.”

You whimper and attempt to close your legs, failing when those massive hands hook under your knees and push them up to your chest as far as they can go. His nails - near claws - dig into the flesh of your thighs. A gasp tumbles from your lips as his tongue drags through your folds. Soap places a light kiss your your clit before following with a harsh suck that leaves you twitching and whining. Part of you feels ashamed for enjoying this as much as you are - for lapping up the attention from this stranger like a starved dog - but it feels too unreal for you to really care. Too fictional to apply your real world morals or sensibilities.

You yelp in surprise when his tongue flicks over your back hole, causing him to chuckle and mutter, “Tha’s for later.”

He doesn’t leave you time to think on that promise. You throw your head back as he slips his tongue inside. Fuck, it’s deep. Unnaturally long - built to systematically pull pleasure from you just like the rest of him. You find yourself grinding down onto it despite yourself, pent up body giving into instinct and abandoning rational thought. You grab onto his stupid hair to further press him into you. He doesn’t seem to mind as a low guttural sound rumbles through his chest.

A thick finger circles your entrance, replacing his tongue in one swift motion. He doesn’t wait to add a second - the stretch causing you to hiss. His fingers are big. His proportions just on this side of incompatibly large. You wonder briefly, distantly, why his claw-nails aren’t hurting you. It’s hard to care much when the pad of a thick finger presses roughly against that spot that leaves you gasping. His lips wrap around your clit again, sloppily sucking and licking at the little bud as you careen closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches harshly, almost painfully, as you tumble over with a choked moan.

“So easy.” He chuckles. Your face gets hotter, an indignant pout forming on your lips. Rude. Your eyes drift over his body and, somehow for the first time tonight, you realize he’s already naked. Not a single piece of cloth in sight upon his arrival. You let yourself take in his strong torso, the thick dusting of hair from his chest all the way down to a healthy happy trail, down to-

“That’s not gonna fit!” You squeak, clumsily trying to back away. His cock hangs heavily between his legs; thick and veiny and already leaking. His hand on your sternum stops you in place. You’re sure he can feel the way your heart hammers away in your chest - practically beating against your ribcage. For a moment, you think you see sympathy in his eyes. Rather quickly you realize that warmth is, instead, hunger. An eagerness to swallow you whole dances across his sharp grin.

“We’ll make it fit.”

That’s all the warning you get before he’s bullying his cock inside you, inch by inch despite your shaky pleas to slow down. It burns, just crossing over the threshold into too much. Your teeth grind, a deep whine resonating in your throat. Your fingers claw at the sheets below you and your body jerks with odd shocks of pleasure and pain all tied up into one.

“Fuckin’ tight…” Soap groans.

“S’too much!” You practically sob, hips squirming to get away from the intrusion.

“Y’can take it.” His other hand grabs onto your waist to still you. You can’t stop the moan that forces its way past your lips as his hips meet yours.

You expect it to hurt when he fucks you - he doesn’t allow you time to adjust, each thrust practically punching the air from your lungs. Instead, it sends electricity up your spine. Your brows knit together, eyes screwed shut as warmth pools at the base of your spine. Soap hooks one of your legs around his hip, the other over his shoulder. You watch him through bleary eyes, the strange red of his hands contrasting with your natural, human skin. The way his hand nearly wraps around your thick calf. The way his core flexed with every thrust. The pleasured knot in his brow.

Soap lets your raised leg drop, pressing his weight down onto you and bracketing your head with his forearms. He smells so good - spices and trees. It invades your senses, leaving your mind somehow foggier than it already felt. He pulls you into a kiss. It’s not romantic, not emotional, just a searing exchange made up of messy teeth and tongue. He tastes like cinnamon. His fang catches your lip and copper coats your mouth. A light whine escapes him as he licks it up and sucks at the small wound.

“Please, please, please.” You pant rhythmically, chest heaving.

“Please, please, please.” He mocks, chuckling at your begging as he presses his thumb to your clit.

You practically seize, already overdone and so close to another. You’re babbling, you know that much, but the contents of your words are lost on you.

“Gonnae cum f’me?” Soap presses his nose to your temple. “Gonnae cum on this cock?”

You nod vigorously, nails leaving half-moons his strong shoulders. His thumb swirls your clit as he continues to spill filthy words into your ear. Things you’ve never thought of, otherworldly promises no man could keep, and groaned nonsense to match your own. Your climax slams into you. You practically howl, whole body shaking. Soap’s tongue drags up the side of your face, licking up sweat and tears. He’s not far behind, a growl rumbling through his chest; his hips stutter as he spills inside you.

You think, for a moment, as you desperately try to catch your breath, that it’s over. He’ll disappear off into the ether and you’ll wake up tomorrow from this strange dream. All of it a lonely, mentally unwell delusion that you can tell your therapist. After you book her. You really should if your brain is coming up with shit like this.

Except, he doesn’t stop. The slowed rocking of his hips immediately picks up again. He leans up, hands gripping your waist as you let out a long, keening whine. You try to shove at his hands, to kick your shaking legs. They’re clumsy. Weak and used and uncoordinated. The sweat on your palms leaves you slipping, unable to get a grip around his wrist. Soap just laughs - dark and unnatural. Far too entertained by your panic. A malicious spark lights his eyes as he stares down at you.

“S-soap!” You gasp, mind and body going into overdrive. “P-please! You don’t have to - you can - fuck - just stop!”

He laughs again, only speeding up - using the hold on your soft waist to fuck you back onto him. An anger flares up in you and you reel back, slapping your open palm against his face as hard as you can manage. It doesn’t do anything to deter him, his hips still slam full force into yours without so much as a stutter. His chuckle cuts off into a gravelly groan. “Do tha’ again.”

As much as you don’t want to give in to him, you do. You batter your fists against his chest, his arms, anywhere you can even slightly reach. You dig your nails into his hands. He just speeds up, lewd, wet sounds an loud slaps echoing in the room along with your moans and shouts. Soap pulls out just long enough for his arm to encircle your waist and flip you over as if you weigh nothing to him. You hardly get your bearings before he’s forcing his cock back in your cunt. His hands latch onto your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll bruise, if not be crushed completely.

“Please! Fuck - Soap - please - st-” You choke out, barely able to lift your face out of the sheets to breathe. Your whole body tremors violently. You try to reach behind yourself for him - to get some purchase, but all you’re met with his a hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades to hold you in place.

“Whit? Ye think tha’ was all? Jus’ one round an’ yer done?” The beast condescends, voice rough. “Nae, we’ve go’ forever. Well, until yer body gives out, at least. Gonnae shove my cock down tha’ pretty throat next, I think.”

The hand still on your hip lets go. Gathering slick from between your thighs, Soap pushes his thumb against your back hole. You gasp and attempt to lurch forward, to get away, but it doesn’t work. You can’t move out from under the weight of him. You feel a glob of something land there, quickly realizing he spit on you just to gasp as his thumb pushes inside. Part of you hates that it feels good, hates the words spilling from his lips about your unused ass. The rest of you succumbs to the fullness as his thumb is replaced by a finger, then another, working you open.

You whimper, fear mixing with the ongoing growing pleasure in your gut. It’s all too much. You’re overstimulated, soft body bruised and exhausted. Filled to the brim. Soap drapes himself over you, removing his fingers with almost a pop, and sinking his sharp teeth into the crook of your neck. His arms bracket your head once again, nearly flattening your against the mattress underneath him. You cry out, tears streaming as you feel another climax approaching, your pussy drooling down your thighs.

Something deep in the back of your brain snap as you cum. You lose yourself to base instinct. The heat in the room and anger in your chest consumes you. The air burns as it enters your lungs, sparking and electrifying your skin. Your head turns, eyes locking on the strong forearm anchored just above you. On impulse you lurch up, sinking your teeth in as far as they’ll go. A dog with prey caught in it’s maw. Soap growls in your ear - deep and animalistic. His blood isn’t quite coppery, not like yours, it’s far too sweet. It only spurs you on, your fingers twisting so tightly in the sheets you hear threads pop. Your other hand reaches back to dig your nails into his upper arm, to scratch at wherever you can reach. The sounds tearing through your throat aren’t right. Aren’t human. His arm muffles them slightly, the grunts and growls becoming borderline screams as you cum again so soon.

Soap flips you again, tearing his arm away from you and planting his feet flat on the bed, using his inhuman strength to help bounce you on his lap. You snarl, nails digging into his pecs to draw more blood. It drips down your lips, onto your chest, it covers the pads of your fingers. It’s animal. You’re just an animal.

“There ye are.” He grins, eyes practically glowing.

You don’t think much of it, you can’t think at all, really. Not in words, or even images. Pure instinct drives every action, your nose flaring at the scent of sex and blood that’s filled the room. Your skin is feverish, limbs shaking. Frenzied. That’s the word. Frenzied and rabid as you reach for strength you don’t have an meet his thrusts.

The two of you keep going that way - for how long, you aren’t sure. At some point you end up on the floor, at another he holds you against the wall by your throat. At another you hear the bed frame crack in two. Claw marks and bruises litter your body - litter his, as well. He pushes his cock into your back hole, not caring about the minimal stretch. You don’t need lube, you’ve drenched the both of you enough. The last thing you’re conscious for is Soap moaning in your ear as your hands wrap around his horns, holding on with all you have as your lips meet.

When you wake, your body feels heavy. Buried under something - blankets, you think. Though, your blankets at home have never had this weight to them. It’s more than quilts - your fingers tentatively running over both the texture of soft cloths and thick furs. It feels luxury, buttery smooth under your touch. Briefly, you shut your eyes again, content to drift back into blackness out of this cozy dream.

When you do peek your eyes open, a shudder runs down your spine. This isn’t your apartment. You shoot up, looking around the odd bedroom. It’s strangely decorated. Modern but with hints of something more scattered about. The smooth, painted walls of a modern home and ornate, lit fireplace of a castle mixed with current and antique furniture alike. A large couch sits in front of the mantle with embroidered, thick blankets hanging over the back. There’s a cracked door that seems to lead into a walk in closet. The area rug covering the far half of the room is a rich emerald green embellished with flowing designs in various golds and darker tones. Drawings and random scrawl are pinned to the far wall. There’s an open sketchbook on top of an old, hardwood desk with similar designs carved into it as the mantle.

Panic begins to surge as you open the massive curtains on the wall opposite the mantle to reveal floor to ceiling windows. They’re heavy like tapestries. You realize quickly that two of the panels are sliding doors onto a balcony, though you hesitate to step out. It would only corner you further. The sky looks like fire - waves of clouds lit in orange and yellow hues. It moves to fast. Streams of flames twist and run across the sky, overtaking one another.

You swing open the only other door that doesn’t appear to be the main exit. All it leads to is a bathroom. Large and expensive but nothing abnormal. Except for your shampoo inside the shower upon further inspection. Memories flood you, the night before comes in flashes. Was it the night before? Time feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. You’re sore, eyes heavy and body weak. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, dressed in some gauzy, black floor-length thing that leaves little to the imagination.

Just as you exit the bathroom to look for somewhere else to hide or run, the main door opens. Soap steps in, adjusting the sleeve of his t-shirt. You freeze, as if he won’t see you as long as you’re still.

It doesn’t work, of course. Those bright eyes lock onto you, thick brows raising. “Bonnie? Yer up!”

He looks… different. Less demonic. Not that anything has visibly changed much besides the fact that he’s wearing actual clothes. He simply fits into the scenery better - the room made to accommodate him. You realize part of the strangeness of it is the furniture size; meant for someone much taller and wider than you. The light helps as well, defining the contours of his face that you couldn’t make out in the dark. You back away from him as he approaches, pressing yourself against the wall as tightly as you can.

“So glad yer up. Are ye hungry? I can-“

“Where am I?” You cut him off meekly, eyes darting around the room.

“Och, my home of course.” Soap grins as if that explains anything.

“Why?” It doesn’t come out like the demand you want it to, more like a plea. Your voice cracks and you can’t meet his eye.

He tilts his head, eyes watching you, raking over you from head to toe. A predator observing it’s prey - deciding how best to catch it. “Ye live here, now.”

“What?” You gasp, trying to back further into the wall as if you could phase through it should you just try hard enough. “No- no, please! You have to let me go home! I need to go home!”

Johnny shrugs far too casually for your liking. “A soft little thing like ye? Nae, think I’ll keep ye fer the time bein’. Never met someone who could keep up like ye can. Go’ a lot of pent up energy in there, hen.”

“I don’t-“

“Yer gonnae feed me fer years tae come.” He continues as if you didn’t say anything at all, “Besides, I’ve go’ some friends tha’ I think would like ye.”

[fyodoro]

ೃ༄ JUST AN INCH AWAY…

ft. Alhaitham, Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

… who said making out was the only way to escape such a predicament? neither of you, apparently. but if it works, it works— even if it wasn’t intentional.

gn!reader, suggestive but not rlly bordering on smut, puzzles gone wrong, forced proximity and enemies with tension type thing, lots of kissing, lots of making out, profanity, harbinger scara, akademiya/academic rival alhaitham | wc : 5.4k

a big thank you to @vxnuslogy for going over scara’s bit for me cause i’ve grown vv unfamiliar with his character over the years, so thank you vee !!

ALHAITHAM (1.7k wc)

”I swear to Archons, the second I get out of here I’m burning your thesis to ashes.”

Alhaitham’s unbothered expression didn’t falter. “Such a bold assumption. You really think you’re capable of escaping without me?” he reviled, using the split-second your mind went blank as an opportunity to shove you away to an adjacent wall.

Your brows furrowed, hand clutching your side in response to the fleeting moment of pain. “You better do something if this bruises, asshole,” you sneered.

”What sense does it make for me to do something about someone else’s problem?” he retorted, gray strands gone astray as he ran a hand through them.

This might’ve been the most stressed out you’ve ever seen him, you think. It makes plenty of sense, too. You wouldn’t be shocked if he was living out his worst nightmare right now. Two of the things he hates most— you, and a problem he can’t solve— is all he has to work with right now.

Actually, calling this his worst nightmare might be the understatement of the century.

“Two Akademiya students trapped in a cell… oh, all the possibilities. Did I mention they hate each other? That’s a key detail if I do say so myself.”

”I’m trying to focus here,” he said, tone as cold as the very peak of Dragonspine. 

You squatted down beside him, watching his skillful hands work with the broken device that got you trapped here in the first place. “You’re trying to focus, I’m bored. You don’t wanna spend your potential last minutes alive with me, and vice versa. Let’s face it, neither of us are winning here, so you might as well stop being a buzzkill for once.”

”These won’t be my last moments alive, but they might be yours if you don’t pipe down.”

You frowned without another word, surveying his working hands as they meticulously fidgeted with the dysfunctional rune. They’re… nice, you think, oddly enough. The thought alone made you wanna gag, but it wouldn’t be the first time you noticed them.

It also wouldn’t be the first time you noticed his nose scrunches whenever he’s concentrated. You’ve seen it plenty of times, but in this instance, it’s different— you’ve never seen it close up before. Every other time you just happened to catch it from across your shared classroom amidst a lesson, or the Akademiya’s library. No matter the case, there’s never been an appropriate time to tease him about it.

Does this count as an appropriate time? Probably not, but your mouth thinks otherwise.

“You’re gonna have bunny lines by the time you’re 24 if you don’t stop doing that.”

For a moment, he stops. His darkly lit nose inhaled deeply before turning to you, exasperation evident in his eyes. 

“That’s hypocritical, you do it more than me.”

You didn’t waste a second to fire back, eyes locking in on his with jest. “So you confess? You’ve been staring at me, hm?” 

“Do you hear yourself? You admitted the same thing just a moment ago,” he breathed, voice hitching in his throat from the intense irritation he was feeling. He opened his mouth hastily to speak again, but closed it just as fast, resuming his repair of the broken device. 

You scoffed, standing back up to stretch your limbs with a yawn. Just how long has it been now? Minutes? Hours? There was only so much longer you could take, and your patience was running just as thin as Alhaitham’s. 

“Surprise, surprise… you’re doing it again.”

“When we get out of here, I’m sending you to those Kshahrewar scholars. Maybe they’ll be able to install a mute button on you.” 

“I just think you’re jealous of me. Y’know, people actually like me, but I know that’s not the case for you.”

“Fortunately, I couldn't care any less about anyone’s opinion of me. Unlike you, remember?” he reminded, looking up at you from the corner of his eye. “You had a breakdown in the library because you eavesdropped on a group of Amurta students calling you a stuck-up know-it-all.”

Your teeth clenched together, brain stuttering over its thoughts. “That’s because I’m not! I didn’t even know any of them, they were just making stuff up—“

Alhaitham’s ears tuned you out, index finger clicking the last piece together on the rune, getting it to light up successfully. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead before picking himself up off the ground with a small huff.

“That’s why I was so upset, okay?” you finished, arms shrugged in a defensive manner. Your lips were pressed into a straight line, and your brows only raised at the realization— he wasn’t listening to a single word you said.

“Save your breath,” he started, gesturing to the supposedly fixed mechanism. “We’ll be out of each other’s sight soon.”

“Ohoho,” you chuckled dryly, “not soon enough.” 

You crouched down to the newly repaired rune, fidgeting with it as the symbols changed. Not a single one made the small cell’s bars budge, let alone lift. Slapping a hand to your forehead, you groaned in defeat. 

“Well my good friend, aren’t you just a genius,” you taunted.

“If you had a sliver of patience in that dense head of yours, you’d have known to wait another minute or so.”

“In my defense, you never told me to wait,” you spat. “In fact, it sounded like you wanted me to try it out just so you could call me a fool.”

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples immediately. “Don’t twist my words. The only one making yourself look like a fool is you.”

“Archons,” you cried out. “All of this could’ve been avoided if you weren’t such a dickhead.”

“And we could’ve had a peaceful time in here if you knew how to shut up.”

“The only way you’re getting me to shut up is if you make me. Otherwise, it’ll be a hot, sunny day in Snezhnaya when I decide to listen to you.”

That was Alhaitham’s final straw. 

“Make you?” he spoke, tall frame slowly moving down towards yours on the ground. The only source of light came from a lone torch beyond the bars that enclosed your cell, and the tiny blue light that glowed from the rune. “Just how can I ‘make you’ shut up?”

You shrugged, taking a moment to note how much closer he was compared to before. 

“Not a clue my dude, not a clue,” you said, mischief lacing your voice. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Oh, you know… unless you have a bright idea.” 

You tilted your head to the side, smirking as confliction appeared on his face. His brows have been furrowed for some time now due to your antics, though right now, they looked as if they were slanted out of focus, not fury. The lack of light made it hard to see his eyes clearly, but you swear you caught a glint of desire hidden within them.

He grabbed the back of your head with a solid grip, closing the gap between your faces as his lips took over yours. 

Your eyes shut out of instinct, though his remained half lidded for a few more seconds. He didn’t miss how speedy you were to kiss back, not to mention grab onto his gray locks. You tugged on them, hard. It was just the push he needed to pull your body closer to his, leaving no more space between you two.

Contrary to his cold attitude, his lips were warm, wait— no, he was warm. His body warmed yours, heat rushing to all parts of your body as he moved his hand down from the back of your head to your lower back, holding on tightly when you moved against him. 

Paired with the heat of the moment, the action pulled a small moan from your lips. Alhaitham’s quick thinking allowed him to slide his tongue past your lips at the opening. You didn’t give any pushback, eagerly accepting the wet muscle with a quiet whine. 

Hands flew everywhere— his hair was nothing short of a mess, and you were sure yours wasn’t so neat either. Each time you broke away for air was cut short by Alhaitham, who couldn’t bear a single second without attacking your lips. The only noises that filled the confined room were his grunts and your quiet whimpers, though an occasional moan was thrown into the mix. 

You felt his strong arms move you back, attempting to push your back against the ground for better control. However, his efforts went to waste as you yelped, breaking the kiss to turn around and fiddle with something.

“Oh shit,“ you uttered under your breath. “Look at what you pushed me into.”

He moved away from your body, taking a minute to catch his breath before averting his attention to behind you. What he saw was something be couldn’t believe he forgot about— the rune that got you both stuck in the first place.

As if on cue, it began to blink, followed by thick bars lifting into the ceiling. You laughed loudly, feverish look still apparent on your face from what happened moments prior. 

“You—“ he started, standing up from the cell’s floor in embarrassment. “You are not to speak of this, we are not to bring this up again, got that?” 

Extending a hand out to you, he helped pull you off the ground begrudgingly. You scratch the back of your head sheepishly, looking at anything that wasn’t Alhaitham.

“No promises?” 

He could only scoff at your response, exiting the cell that he so desperately wanted to escape from not so long ago with a frown. Before he could reach the stairwell that led you down here, he turned back to face you. 

“Are you coming?” 

“I— uh…” you stumbled over your words, trying to make sense of everything that just transpired. “Yes! Don’t go without me, you hear?”

He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

If this ever happens again, you can only hope your “undying” hatred for Alhaitham won’t waver afterwards. Now you have to bicker with an asshole who just so happened to have had his tongue in your mouth… not to mention he might be the best kisser you’ve ever met.

Great.

SCARAMOUCHE (1.3k wc)

The room was tight, stuffy, and so hot. 

Well, maybe the heat you felt was your own body temperature. It’s a natural reaction, you think. Yeah, a very, very natural reaction to being in such close proximity with someone you just so happened to find attractive. 

Pushing your bubbling feelings aside, you acknowledge the situation at hand. 

“This is your fault— all your fault!” 

“My fault? Did you forget who set off the wrong mechanism?” Scaramouche barked, furious eyes narrowing in on you. “Incase you somehow forgot, allow me to refresh that poor little memory of yours— it was you,” he hissed, the faint shadow of a smirk etched across his lips added a venom drip onto his words.

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, one that could most definitely be heard from the outside of the small chamber you found yourself trapped in. Seriously, who in their right mind thought it’d be a good idea to send you and the 6th Harbinger on a mission together? No, scratch that. Who thought it’d be a good idea to send him on a mission with anyone besides his masochistic subordinates?

The Tsarsita, apparently. 

Searching for any sign of an exit, your hand brushed against Scaramouche’s. For once, he landed on the same page as you.

“What do you think you're doing?” he spat, swatting your hand away as if it were a mere little fly.

You backed yourself against the wall defensively. The old bricks only extended a few feet wide; just a mere foot away from the other side, too. Unfortunately, this is physically the closest you’ve ever been to the Inazuman, a fact that made you sick. Archons, did it have to be him? Of all people, why was he the one you were trapped with?

“I’m trying to get us out of here. Y’know, so I don’t have to stare at your wretched face any longer.”

“No one’s forcing you to stare at anything, moron.” Groaning, his head motioned back to hit the wall behind it. “Look! So much dust, so much dirt, and it’s all right in front of you!” he sneered tauntingly. “How about you count every little dust particle your eyes can see while I get us out of here?” 

You hadn’t even realized he’d been drawing closer and closer the longer he spoke. Unintentionally, probably. Still, there was hardly any space to begin with, and now he literally had you cornered. 

That part may be intentional, you think.

“I’d rather count every single split-end from that hair of yours, since the darkness wasn’t kind enough to hide them for you.”

He deadpanned at your rebuttal, “Oh, like that has to do with anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll still be counting even after we get out of here,” you tauntingly whispered, face unconsciously growing closer to his. “If you’d open your mind for a moment… I’d recommend seeing a barber when we return.”

“You little—“ his voice came to an abrupt stop, gleaming eyes sharpening in the dimly lit room as he gritted his teeth. 

“Little what? Go on, don’t cut yourself off now,” you mocked, a grin of michief creeping onto your features. “Am I a little bitch, or a little pest? Oh, maybe you had something more creative in mind? Come on now, don’t keep me wai—“

Before you could finish your sentence— hell, before he could think, his lips lunged at yours, capturing them between his own as he pinned your hands on either side of your head firmly.

Your eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated in shock as you processed what was happening. The Balladeer was kissing you. He went from taunting you… to… kissing you…? And it felt good? You didn’t think you hated it. No, you definitely didn’t hate it. 

Kissing back slowly, you gripped onto the hands that restrained yours for better support. Oddly enough, his hold loosened, opting to intertwine your fingers instead. 

He felt something. Heat, maybe? Yeah, that must be it. It was hot. Obviously his mechanical body wasn’t immune to the dangers of overheating, especially when it’s pressed up against an even warmer body. It wasn’t like anything he felt before— of course he felt himself craving more. 

He broke the kiss briefly to hoist you upwards, moving his hands down to signal you to jump. Without thinking, you wrapped your legs around his slim frame instinctively. His hands that went from yours, to beneath your knees, now kept a firm grip on the plush of your thighs as the kiss deepened.

Small snippets of air was all you needed to keep going, something Scaramouche didn’t understand. Every time you pulled away for a gasp of air, his brows furrowed in judgment. Humans, he thinks to himself. Not even lust can cloud their senses. The string of saliva was all that connected your bodies. That is— if you didn’t count your hold around his neck or his now wandering hands. 

As he dove back in to resume, you felt yourself pushed against the wall— harder, somehow. The force had you groan, now feeling just how dirty the small room was. Scaramouche couldn’t give a shit, of course. Instead, he thought now was the perfect moment to trail his lips down to your neck. 

Your head lolled back, allowing him all the access he needed. He nipped and nipped— creating a pattern between sucking, biting, and kissing. Honestly, you were too dazed to care if he left a mark at this point. You let your thighs tremble in his hold, aching from both the thrill and the need. Letting your head rest against the wall entirely, you—

Bump!

Both yours and Scaramouche’s eyes widened, only to close tightly at the sudden light. He turned away from you, squinting at the brightness that came in the other direction. “What the…”

Oh, the door lifted.

“How did it—“

The Balladeer’s hands dropped from your body, retreating to his sides. You still kept a hold on him— limbs not showing any sign of letting him move freely, but you were just as perplexed as him. 

“Let go.”

“If you drop me and I break something, you better pay for—“

He rolled his eyes, forcing your legs off of him and sliding down to escape your grip around his neck. You fell, hard. Grumbling to yourself, you stood back up on your own two feet with annoyance. 

Freedom was just a foot away, yet neither of you moved an inch. Scaramouche’s eyes darted from you, to the wall behind you, catching the key to the chamber’s doors. 

Of course.

He pressed his hand against the loose brick. “Your head was right here, correct?”

“I’m pretty sure… yeah?” you answered, turning around to examine his actions. 

He slapped his forehead in agitation, laughing to himself. You were starting to catch on now, understanding what caused your escape route. 

“I can’t believe it,” he breathed, chuckling. “You were so needy, your big head somehow pushed the brick that opened the doors.” 

For once, you ignored his insult. “Then— can we get out of here before it closes again?”

His eyes darkened, returning to his menacing aura. You gulped, feeling less cocky after the predicament you found yourself in a minute prior. He pointed his index finger at you— as if he were about to order you around like one of his subordinates.

“Only if you agree to never speak of this to anyone, you got that?”

You nodded slowly, itching to get out of here and complete this mission in another few hours. “Okay… okay.”

“Good,” he started, turning his back to you. “We can finish this later, but that’ll be it.”

That was, in fact, not the last time such an encounter occurred between you both. But hey, there’s a thin line between hate and love, right? 

Surely it wouldn’t be a problem to dance on that line a little longer…

WRIOTHESLEY (2.3k wc)

How in Teyvat does the very Duke of the Fortress of Meropide forget his keys? Better yet, how did the lock on the outside of the cell click on its own?

“This place is haunted, it’s gotta be,” you wailed, dramatically flopping yourself down on the cell’s stiff mattress. “Hey, Great ol’ Duke, I’ve got an idea for you.”

The hands that were previously fiddling with the lock on the other side of the cell came to a halt. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before darting his eyes in your direction. 

“Oh, sure. Please, tell me, what are you scheming this time?” 

“Me? Scheming? Just how little do you think of me?”

He huffed, giving his attention back to the matter at hand: getting out of this cell and far, far away from you.

“I don’t think anything of you, but I do know,” he grumbled, cursing himself for never gluing the keys to his hand. “And what I know is that you should’ve been out of here the moment your sentence ended. But instead, you thought it’d be fun to stick around and climb the ranks amongst the gardes here.”

“With ease, if you don’t mind adding that bit on.”

“I do, actually.”

“Whatever,” you whisper to yourself, staring up at the ceiling that reached so high above. By now it was a view you were sick of, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

All you wanted to do was give Wriothesley his daily dose of torment. Instead, you wound up following him into an old cell, one that he meant to clean up before the door slammed shut, effectively locking the two of you back up. Both yours and his blood ran cold at the realization: you were trapped— together.

“This might be the worst day of my life,” he said, stone-faced. 

“You and me both, Duke.”

He slid down the wall next to the cell door, legs spread out as his head hung low in defeat. “We’re gonna be here for a while before someone gets us outta here.”

“And the thinker of the year award goes to… Wriothesley! Congrats, you figured out the obvious,” you cheered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’ll get you a medal sometime soon, don’t worry.”

“Aren’t you a thoughtful one,” he deadpanned, sick to his stomach from your presence alone. 

“Aren’t I?” you mused. 

He let out a deep sigh, wishing he had someone else to keep him company right now. Sigwinnie would be his top pick, with the Traveler coming as a close second. But you? Yeah, you weren’t even last on the list of people he’d pick; not a trace of your name could even be found on it.

The goal was to tidy up some old cells, maybe a few of the bathrooms too if he was feeling up to it. Unfortunately, nothing comes according to plan for Wriothesley when you're in a three mile radius. You’ve made it your life’s goal to annoy him to bits— torture him to bits, as he thinks of it. So when he saw you making your way down the same hall as him, he tried to make a beeline out of your sight.

Key word: tried.

He tried, and failed miserably.

He pats his pockets down once again, making sure he didn’t miss his keys the last four times he checked. To no avail, there was nothing. Awesome— great, he thinks. This might be the worst mistake of his life.

“You do realize…” he began, standing back up to peer outside the strong bars. “If you hadn’t followed me around like some annoying pest— which you are, by the way— there might’ve been someone on the other side of these bars to alert someone sooner.”

You laughed at the seriousness in his voice. “You must be really deluded to think that I’d ever bother helping you out in any shape, way, or form.”

“That’d be a charge,” he informed, as if he knew every little detail in Fontaine’s code of law. “Reckless endangerment, that’s what they call it.”

“Yeah, they call it reckless endangerment. I like to call it minding my own business.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms from across the room. “It’s a miracle you’ve yet to face another trial.”

“I’m wounded,” you cried out, sitting up from the hard mattress. “To believe you’d think I’d ever commit another crime… I feel my heart breaking already.” 

The poor performance you put on was entertaining, he’d give you that much. As much as he disliked you, even he couldn’t deny the intriguing aura you carried. Would he admit it out loud? Absolutely not. But thinking of a foe’s positive trait couldn’t hurt, right? 

Maybe a little…

Staring off into nothing, you missed the moment Wriothesley treaded closer to you. Snapping out of your daze, your eyes shot up at his, shifting from a gaze to a glare in a millisecond. 

“Visiting hours are closed, come back another time— but keep in mind they’ll still be closed.” 

“Not visiting, just trying to take a seat that isn’t on a filthy floor,” he corrected, gesturing to move from the middle of the bed to the end.

“You sure you don’t need a check up from Sigwinnie?” you laughed dryly, finding humor in his train of thought. “Seriously, what makes you think I’m sharing a bed with you?”

“Don’t make it sound like that—“

“Like what?” you cut off, grinning to no one but yourself. “Like we’re sharing a bed all night? Like we’re gonna snuggle up next to each other because we’re so deprived of warmth? Oh, maybe you’re thinking it’ll end up with us—“

He lets you ramble, ignoring each word that slips from your lips; allowing his brain to replace the sound of your voice with the sound of a fly that’s been buzzing in his office all day. No longer caring about close proximity, he plopped himself down on the bed with a soft grunt. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you sneered, shoving his annoyingly muscular frame away from you. 

“Laying down,” he said, letting his arms spread out across the bed— one of which landing behind you. “I might as well get comfortable for the time being.”

You glared down at him, feeling your eye twitch at his antics. “Well now I’m not comfortable thanks to you. I’m sure the floor would be far more welcoming, don’t you agree?” 

“I only agree with the voice in my head, wanna guess what he’s saying?” He stared blankly at the ceiling above as he spoke, starting to feel exhaustion cloud over his mind.

“Not really.”

“Too bad, I’m telling you anyway.” Moving the hand behind your figure, he pointed at his head. “He’s telling me you should shut up before I’m forced to do something about it.” 

You laughed meekly, “Well, isn’t he just a little comedian in the making.” 

“There you go. See, it wasn’t that hard, was it? I knew you were capable of saying something with an ounce of truth.”

“That was sarcasm, Duke.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you said it, so…” He sat up slowly, now plastered to your side as he stared daggers into you. “I don’t care.”

You shifted in your spot, goosebumps crawling up your skin at the room’s sudden change of mood. As much as you hated the man (for no apparent reason other than conflicting personalities, if you may add), it didn’t make you blind to his looks— body— his charm. 

Those factors only fuel your hatred, actually. 

Over the years, spoiling Wriothesley’s day has become a part of your daily routine. Every day you woke up with the same recurring thought: ‘What’ll piss him off today?’ and ‘How will he respond today?’ 

Whenever you don’t run into him, you can’t help but feel disappointed. "Maybe tomorrow,” you’d say to yourself at day’s end, thinking of all the ways you can get on his nerves later. 

You hated him so, so much. You only hated him more when he wasn’t a part of your day. 

“Getting a little close there, arentcha?” 

“You’ve yet to push me away, too,” he noted. 

You stared into your lap with an unreadable expression. “Don’t get the wrong idea or anything, you’re just a good— decent substitute for a heater.” 

He hummed, going silent for a minute or so. For once, it felt… peaceful between you two. If peaceful was even the right word, which you and him both doubted. 

Tense might be a better way to describe the atmosphere. 

“If you’d prefer a better heater…” he started, voice trailing off as he furrowed his brows at his thoughts. “I can improve myself, if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind? You were taken aback in confusion, unsure of what he was implying. “What are you talking about? How… how would that even work?”

His lips press into a thin line for a second, a second that you regretfully missed. When you do look at him, he’s no longer glaring at you— just staring. It was hard to make out the emotions written across his face. Unsure? Confident? Both, somehow?

He took a deep breath. “Like this,” he said before diving in.

Grayish-blue eyes shut tightly as his lips locked onto yours. Your lips parted farther in shock, giving his tongue access almost immediately. This isn’t an opportunity anyone can come by quite easily with Wriothesley— or you for that matter. Wanting those bragging rights more so than he himself, you indulged in his feverish kiss while you could.

But oh— he was right. It was so much warmer now, no longer feeling the chills you felt earlier. You hated when he was right, despised it, even. The strong feelings only escalated the kiss further, and Archons… not once did you think Wriothesley of all people would be able to turn you to mush so easily. 

Your lungs burned for oxygen, as did his. You both pulled away for a moment, staring into each other’s clouded eyes without a thought.

“I don’t mind,” you responded to his question from before. “Well— as long as you don’t mind.”

He opened his mouth to speak, only to get cut off by you pouncing on him. You were no longer at each other’s sides, turning at an awkward angle to indulge in one another. Now, you had him pinned down to the old, bare mattress, moving your lips against his with far more rhythm than before.

Kissing back, he managed to motion his wrists out of your grip, leaving you to stutter over your movements before settling your hands on either side of his chest, still straddling him. As for him, his hands didn’t hesitate to hold onto your hips. 

In all fairness, this is a pretty effective way to get each other to shut up. It kept your mouths busy, not to mention it was hot, something you never thought you’d hear yourself think regarding Wriothesley.

Your hands moved to his bi-colored locks, tugging on the gray and black strands to keep yourself grounded as his hands explored your body. You hate that you’re enjoying this as much as you are. It’d be a different story if this were anyone else— then you’d bask in the pleasure without complaint. But this is the man you swore you wanted dead for years…

Much to your dismay, that thought only added more thrill to the situation. 

The kiss was wet— messy. Every break for air was spent uncovering every little detail on his face. He has nice eyelashes, you think. His eyes also look really fucking pretty when they’re half-lidded like this. Going back in, you felt a soft squeeze on your ass, which was soon followed by Wriothesley breaking the kiss.

You looked down at him with a curious gaze, brow lifted in both annoyance and wonder. Before you could ask what’s wrong, he pushed you off him in one swift motion.

Yelping in surprise, you sharpened your glare. “The hell was that for? If you wanted to stop, you coulda just said that!” 

“Check your pocket.” he demanded, now standing up with his arms crossed over his chest.

“My pocket?” You stared at him in disbelief, a flurry of emotions sworming your brain. 

He didn’t reply, only staring you down harder than before. With no other option, you dug your hand into your back pocket, eyes widening the second you felt metal.

Right… that’s how you got into this mess in the first place.

Chuckling awkwardly, you revealed the ring of keys to Wriothesley, holding them up besides your face in embarrassment.

He didn’t move, only glaring at you even more now that you’ve been caught.

“So…” your voice dragged out, eyes trailing down to the floor. “I may or may not have stolen these from you when you weren’t looking. Y’know, before we got stuck in here. And… I may or may not have… uh, forgot? Yeah, I forgot I had these.”

You stood from the bed shamefully, planting the keys in his hand without a glance. He stood still for a moment, too baffled at the absurdity of the past— what was it? Hour? 30 minutes? 

He cleared his throat. “I think it goes without saying that I’m getting back at you for this. Later, that is.”

You nodded your head, mentally noting to avoid him at all costs for the remainder of the week— no matter how much it conflicts with your usual routine. The keys jingled from across the room, where Wriothesley was now finally unlocking the cell door.

“I’ll be on my way,” you chirped, attitude doing a complete 180. 

Before you could exit the run-down cell, someone gripped the back of your shirt.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled darkly. “You’re coming with me.”

You gulped, blood draining from your face at his words. “Oh, am I now?” you mocked quietly, not a bit of confidence to be heard in your voice for once.

“We need to pick up where we left off, don’t we? I can throw my pay back in, too.”

At least you and him have an… ethical… way of shutting each other up now…

© fyodoro 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[marycorcaroli]

NSFW HEADCANONS.

characters: kenshi takahashi, sub-zero, liu kang.

words count: 1626.

warning: fem!reader only, pussy drunk kenshi, creampie, big dicks, talking during sex, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding king, maybe size kink, cuddle-fucking, missionary, cowgirl, dirty talk, full-nelson.

mary ♡: hope u like it ! english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes ♡

rules ; masterlist.

SUB-ZERO (BI-HAN).

— despite how he looks and how he talks, bi-han is quite gentle in bed with you and doesn't want to have too much control over you, he knows that he can intimidate you too much and maybe you will become afraid of him, which will literally kill him. he wants to show you his love that he can't put into words, but his gentle touches and sweet kisses will do the trick.

— he's not the loudest during sex, i think he's just afraid to make any sounds, but he wants to hear you all the time, the way your mouth opens and the sounds that come out of it make his cock move inside you even more. if he sees that you like the way he whimpers or moans, he'll never shut up.

– i think he's pretty shameless and will definitely tell you what he wants to do to you and describe it in every color.

— he is crazy about your breasts and how they look in his palms and the way your nipples harden just from his breath elevates his ego to the heavens. bi-han will suck your tits all the time, he just can't stop and wants to do it all the time. loves to run his tongue over it and leave his drool (he's so dirty and needy 100% canon), will probably leave hickeys around your boobs and then stare at them forever. you can be sitting with friends and he'll just say in your ear that he wants to suck your boobs and you'll be like "wtf??? u ok???"

— a fan of eye contact.

— loves to humiliate, but he'll never go too far and bring you to tears, you're too precious to him, so he mixes it up with kind words to let you know you're still the best.

"where's my favorite, slut? hey, eyes on me, baby."

"show me how much you want that cock inside you and maybe i'll make you feel good."

"don't you dare make a sound, got it? or do you want to be heard? you're that dirty, aren't you, honey?"

— he doesn't have a favorite position, anything where you achieve pleasure and love each other is fine, he likes to touch you, so he doesn't like tying you up or too much bdsm, too much spanking that will leave bruises on you or too much hickeys, no matter how much he loves you, he doesn't want anyone to know about your intimate life, but still, the position he uses most often is cuddle-fucking.

— either he's your sweetest lover who is gently pounding into you, kissing the corners of your lips and whispering sweet nothings, or he's your daddy and wants you to moan loudly for him while he's trying to beat the hell out of you and get rid of the stress.

— he is obviously bigger than you and every time you stand next to him and he sees your difference, he gets blown away and you're already on the bed.

— his favorite kinks are size kink(!), voice kink and dirty talk kink.

— the biggest and thickest cock of all three of them, i just know it and i know that his cock is constantly throbbing when he sees you. bi-han knows that before he enters you he needs to warm you up good because well...his cock is really big, i'm afraid it will rip absolute anyone.

— loves to cuddle you after sex and kiss your whole face, he will take good care of you and change all the stuff you got dirty. he wants to fall asleep in your arms and listen to your heartbeat that helps him sleep and think what he did to deserve you.

KENSHI TAKAHASHI.

— i think he's pretty gentle and doesn't want to force you into things. will insist on your wishes and what you want to do the most. he won't mind if you tell him you want to tie him up, he'll be only too happy.

— based on what he can't see, it will be a little hard for him and kenshi will constantly think he's doing something wrong and if he hears that you're hurting, um, he'll go crazy. but i know it won't come to that. kenshi loves you and respects everything you've done for him, so he wants to repay you in the most wonderful ways every time.

— kenshi can't live a day without licking you and tasting you. He loves the way you wiggle his tongue and the beautiful sounds you make, he's in heaven because of you. kenshi dreams of meeting you after a hard day and asking you to sit on his face so you can get rid of the stress and soak his face in your juices. i think kenshi likes any position where he can suck your clit and kiss your folds.

— he doesn't have the fastest pace, more like a medium pace so you can enjoy this beautiful moment. but if you ask him he will go wild, even with a blindfold he will make sure you can't walk normally the next day. he loves you so he will take care of you ♡

— not the biggest fan of hickeys, he likes kissing your skin and saying nice words more.

— words ! kenshi loves it when you talk during sex and you tell him about how good you feel and how his cock was made for your cunnie. he's still not the most confident so he needs your words of encouragement, but he'll be sure to praise you too.

"ahhh, where's my beautiful girl? you're so good for me, thank you, honey."

"come for me, baby, show daddy how much you love him."

"you understand, don't you? you were made for me and i was made for you and it's the best thing that ever happened to me."

— he can cum anywhere, anything you want, he doesn't really care and wants you to like everything, but kenshi dreams of cumming in you and imagines what your child will be like, but...that's another conversation.

— i don't think he has the biggest dick, but he's not the smallest either. he's been with girls before, i'm sure he knows how to handle it and get you shaking.

— kenshi's kinks: daddy kink, praise kink, breeding king, maybe size kink.

— he likes poses where he can kiss your face and he would love to see it and see the emotions you show, but he also wouldn't mind if you ride him aggressively. for him, the top is missionary, full-nelson and maybe cowgirl.

— he may want to try public sex but will never say so, it turns him on that someone will see you and see how well he fucks you, but your bed looks more comfortable still.

— he will take excellent care of you afterwards and will do everything at the highest level. for starters he will lie with you and kiss you on the forehead to let you know how proud he is of you. he will take a bath with you and give you a good bath. he only needs words and nothing else, he is grateful that after everything that happened you are still here and let him love you.

LIU KANG.

— and finally we have reached the most beautiful man. liu kang is a true gentleman and will faithfully wait for you to want to feel all of him, and if you don't want anything, it's okay, he won't pressure you and will instead cuddle with you for a long time.

— he obviously knows how to bring a woman to a euphoric orgasm and he's going to try it out on you. he likes to see you whimpering under him and asking him to move his fingers faster, but he doesn't want to, he likes to see what a mess you're becoming and he hasn't even gotten his cock out yet.

— he likes any part of your body and will idolize everything, but your neck and shoulders have a special effect on him when he leaves kisses and feels the goosebumps on your skin and the way you immediately want more, wow, he's crazy.

— moans for you, makes the wettest noises, whimpers, he does everything and he's not ashamed, why should he keep quiet? you make him feel so good and he wants you to hear it. really, really loves talking to you during and sex and kissing you between words.

"i don't think anyone has ever evoked the same emotions in me as you have, love, i'm so glad i met you."

"do you feel good, baby? do you want me to speed up?"

"baby, you're squeezing me so hard, i'm afraid i'm gonna cum right now, haha."

— he has a lot of favorite positions and he wants to try them with you. i think liu kang practices tying you up, but not too much so you don't get hurt. he likes to fuck you in the missionary position and then watch you ride him fast and fall off from overstimulation.

— even though he looks like a man who likes sex in public places - he really likes it, haha. wouldn't mind pleasuring you in a restaurant restroom, massaging your cunnie while you talk to your friends and taking you on a picnic where he will lick your pussy and then sit u on his face while you gently suck his throbbing cock.

— he doesn't have a lot of kinks or on the contrary too many, i still haven't really figured it out, but he likes - dirty talk, overstimulation kink and riding kink (he likes the way your tits shake when you ride him).

— the most usual medium pace, enjoying your moment and he has no rush, you have forever ahead of you and he will still have time to thrust into you from behind with all his might and pull your hair while you forget how many orgasms you have already gone through.

— the sweetest when the time comes to take care of you after sex. he will change your bed, give you a massage and bring you anything you want. you did a good job for him and now it's his turn to take care of you.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 So Long, Quantico.

Prison Reid x Fem!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: Your best friend asks you for a favor and you must defend the innocence of the man you were in love with, the same man for whom you left the FBI and moved to another country years ago.

Words: 1,6k.

TW: mentions of murder, trauma, death, jail (normal warnings in the series). angst. miscommunication. right person, wrong time. bittersweet ending. cliche. reid's time in jail. spoilers for season 13 and all the ones before that. english is not my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: First of all I want to thank you for all the support in my first post because the truth is that I didn't expect (if you haven't read it yet, I already have my masterlist). I still can't believe I reached 1000 notes, it makes me very happy.

And secondly, I apologize in advance for this, but I love drama and being a little cliche sometimes. I promise to write a nice, comfortable, less dramatic Spencer story in the future (I hope so) but ttpd is my everything lately.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The constant pounding of your right leg against the table was beginning to make you desperate and to dwarf the room. You didn't know what to do to stop and think for a few seconds, you had even lost count of all the times you had tried to fix your already perfect and ironed clothes that you had spent hours choosing and modeling in front of your hotel mirror.

It felt like hours had passed since you arrived at the prison, though it was probably only a few minutes. Part of you wanted to run out of there and avoid a dangerous reunion at all costs. The other part was anchored to the chair and would not move until you found a way to get Spencer out of there and fulfill the favor Emily had asked of you.

You couldn't let your best friend down, especially when her job could be in jeopardy if Reid was still in prison. You wanted to make sure she was okay, and repay her for all the favors she had done for you during the years you had lived together in London. Without her, you probably would not have survived or become the successful and respected lawyer you were now. She helped you heal when you needed it, now it was your turn to help.

Before you could think, grab your things and maybe even leave the room to catch your breath, a guard abruptly opened the door. Your eyes immediately fell on the handcuffed man the guard had practically thrown into the chair in front of you.

You blinked several times, trying to process that you were actually standing in front of him. He looked so different from the way you remembered him from the occasional picture Prentiss showed you. The years hadn't gone by for nothing, you knew that, but Spencer looked like someone else. It was more than the messy hair, the beard, or the numerous bruises on his face that made you wince. It was that his eyes no longer sparkled, and he himself looked dull.

The guard came out after warning them that they only had fifteen minutes, and the cameras pointed directly at you two.

“Hey.” That was all you could say, biting your inner cheek at how stupid it sounded.

At first he didn't react and hardly seemed to breathe. His expression was like seeing a ghost, and you couldn't blame him after so many years of not hearing from you. You knew you looked different from the last time you saw each other because you had tried too hard to look like someone else. You wore your hair shorter and a different color, even the way you dressed was other. You looked more serious and grown up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked dryly after scanning you with his eyes for a few seconds.

You froze when you heard him speak and his voice, once music to your ears, was like a kick in the stomach.

“I came to help. I thought Emily told you...”

“She told me that she wanted to call you but I told her not to.” Spencer cut you off before you could continue speaking. “That you weren't going to help me.”

You frowned as your brain processed those words.

“Why not? You...you are my friend.” You said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to look away from you because it hurt. You could feel the tension multiply, making it almost impossible to breathe in the small room.

“Friends don't stop talking for six years and pretend the other doesn't exist.”

Oh, that had hurt.

It was true that you had disappeared from his life six years ago, and you had not made the slightest effort to return, even leaving the country with the excuse of looking for a better future. But you had your hidden reasons, you wanted to forget Spencer Reid and your intensely ridiculous and unrequited love.

From the first time you heard him talk about statistics and smile at you like a child, realizing that you listened to him like no one else, you fell madly in love with him for years. Always hoping that one day he would stop thinking of you as his friend and realize how much he deserved to be loved and that you would be happy to do so, that you could give him the whole world without hesitation if he asked you to.

At first you thought he wasn't that interested in love, that he was too smart and focused to lose his mind like you did for him. However, then you saw him several times interested and pining for other girls: the movie actress, JJ, the girl at the bar and Maeve...she was very different and painful for you.

You couldn't stand his strong love for her, at least not being so close to him and having to play the role of the best friend who always listened to him repeat how wonderful she was. Knowing that he could fall in love with someone he didn't even know personally instead of you, whom he saw every day and had known for years, changed you and made you run away to save your heart.

You got a new job far from the United States, thanks to Agent Hotchner and his glowing letter of recommendation. And so you went back to being an ordinary lawyer, no longer chasing serial killers or a boy genius who never loved you as you would have liked.

“Spence, I...” You tried to speak softly, almost having the urge to take his hand to make the situation better, but you didn't. “I'm sorry.”

He was obviously tense, he wouldn't even look you in the eye and you could swear his eyes were a little crystallized. He barely glanced at you for a second before speaking again.

“You don't have to say it if it's not true.”

“It's true.”

You stopped yourself for a second, sighing and centering yourself again.

“But I'm here for the case, to help you with that...and I'm sorry for everything that happened to you.” You said more calmly and with an almost sweet tone.

You both knew it was more than just the prison issue and the current situation. It was a sorry for Maeve's death, Alex, Morgan and Hotch's resignation, his mother's problems, Cat's damn appearance, and most of all for not being there to support him in all.

“You should have called and said so.” He finally responded after letting out a snort and tensing his jaw more.

“Yeah...I should have.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

You thought silence would take over the room again, but instead he spoke again.

“You can go now.”

“I'm not going anywhere unless you're free.” You pointed out with determination.

“You don't have a problem with go before.” He said in the same indifferent tone that was beginning to irritate you.

You should have frozen, kept quiet and focused on the case to get him out of there. But you couldn't do that and act professional when your insides were burning with the memory of the past.

“Don't give me that, you know why I did.” You blurt out, frowning and instinctively pushing the chair away from the table that separates you from him.

“You never said anything to me.” He replied, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking again. “You just disappeared like everyone else I've ever loved because you got bored with me.”

“You know I left for the opposite reason, because I...” You tried to say, but your voice cracked and your hands shook in an awkward attempt to touch his. “I loved you the way that you were and...”

The sudden sound of the door opening made you gasp and immediately shut up. The presence of a grim-faced guard made you realize it was all over, and you pulled your hand away from Spencer's again.

“Time's up.” The guard reported and you signaled him to have at least more minutes.

Fortunately, the guard nodded and gave you only five more minutes. You looked at your client again, trying to get into the professional role and discuss his case, but he seemed to be in another world after your half sentences.

There was no room in Reid's mind for your words, after feeling guilty for so long for not doing enough to be a good friend to you, for scaring you away with his problems, for not being one you wanted to keep over time and return his calls. But now, did you really say what you thought? Did you really love and care for him?

Everything was tearing his word apart in that moment.

“You won't have to see me if you don't want to, but I'll get you out of here soon, Spencer. I swear.” You promised and you could see in his face the surprise at your honest tone.

Maybe he expected a different attitude from you, maybe he thought you were still so obsessed with him that you would insist on seeing him and kill yourself to make him laugh again. But you had matured, or so you thought. You were no longer the young woman who hugged him every time he felt far away and was content to be the one who was left over. Now, you were the brave woman who left the ship before it sank completely.

As you watched the guard check the handcuffs and lift Spencer out of the seat to take him away, something inside you reacted. You called out his name before you could react and quickly had his desperate eyes on you.

“You don't have to worry about the past...I'm over you.” You said confidently before nodding goodbye and walking out with one less burden.

He remained anchored to the ground, trying to process your words with his racing mind as he watched you leave him again.

You...you had been in love with him?

[g1rld1ary]

5 people james didn't mean to kiss (and one he did) ; james potter x fem!reader

➻ first james fic!! i love reviving old fanfic trends <33

➻ word count: 4494

➻ synopsis: says it on the tin baby!

➻ warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/dirty jokes, era typical homophobia (basically nonexistent)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

James Potter was a very affectionate person, everyone knew that. His love language was absolutely physical touch — everyone knew that too. It was also assumed, therefore, that James Potter had an extensive list of kisses. That assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, but a good chunk of them weren’t exactly what you imagined when thinking of the great James Potter kissing someone. They were often impulsive when he didn’t know how else to express his feelings. His very first kiss, for example, wasn’t exactly the cheesy, romantic soap opera that he often advertised providing for girls.

Sirius Black

The Marauders sat in their dorm room, early on in second year. While first year was packed with ridiculous adventures and the forming of their friendship group, second year brought a new awareness of girls, romance and especially kissing. That was the topic of discussion as the boys all packed into one bed, hypothesising about what it might be like. James and Sirius led the discussion with much bravado and false confidence whilst Peter looked decidedly scared. Remus, to his credit, just looked rather amused at it all.

“But where do you touch her?” James asked, eyes still wide and innocent and twelve years old, “I can’t just stand there with my hands at my sides like a twat!”

“Don’t be stupid, you hold her like this.” Sirius bent his arms in a direction that looked borderline painful. Remus huffed and climbed off the bed, pulling both the boys with him.

“If you’re gonna kiss a girl,” Remus instructed, “You have to hold her gently. Don’t push her around like she’s dead weight. James, put your arms around Sirius’ waist like that, now Sirius, you put your arms around his neck.”

“Pete’s gonna think we’re bent,” Sirius grumbled, a red hue on his cheeks.

“You are bent, you poof,” Peter quipped from his spot on the bed. He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t come to light until fourth year. James thought this was hilarious though, and began miming exaggerated — rather sloppy — kisses. And since James never failed to cure Sirius of his moods, he did the same. Remus rolled his eyes as the two boys acted out a passionate scene, loose tongues and all, until they were no longer acting.

All four boys in the dorm were frozen as James and Sirius’ mouths had accidentally connected in their stupidity, none of them sure what to do. Seconds passed as the two stood, lips locked against each other, no one daring to move. At least, until Remus let out a long, uncharacteristic wheeze, which dissolved into a fit of giggles that he would usually be mortified by, but there was no way he was outdoing the kiss anytime soon. Peter followed along momentarily, laughing so hard barely any sound actually came out, silent heaves punctuated by gasping breaths.

Released from their stupor both boys leapt apart, wiping their mouths with their forearms. Both had comical expressions of disgust, still slightly too stunned to verbalise any of it.

“We,” James heaved, “Can never speak of this again. Ever.” Sirius agreed in a heartbeat, still unable to completely wipe the blush from his pale complexion. He probably would have dwelled on those feelings if James wasn’t James, beginning to see the humour in it soon enough. By the end of the night it was an inside joke that would proceed to be referenced countless times within the walls of Hogwarts.

So although James would tell the story of his first kiss quite differently — he alleged it was with a Ravenclaw named Keeley a few weeks later, his proper first kiss will always have been with one Sirius Black in the Gryffindor dormitories on an otherwise unassuming Tuesday evening. And that secret was held onto dearly by all four marauders until, of course, Sirius’ best man speech at James’ wedding, where the anecdote received uproarious applause, loudest of all by James himself.

2. Remus Lupin

The Marauders had all known about Remus’ ‘furry little problem’ since their second year — first for the most perceptive of the bunch. Nevertheless, the group were insistent in helping Remus in any way they could, though it was a difficult task when his alter ego had no resistance to killing them. Until Sirius had come to them with the idea of becoming animagi. It was difficult no doubt, advanced magic far beyond the teaching at Hogwarts, but the four of them were exceptional wizards each in their own way, and the project seemed somewhat manageable with four brains chipping away at it over the course of two years.

When they finally did get it, hardly any of them could believe it, least of all Remus. He had never imagined that the human side of him was worthy of this much love and devotion, let alone the monster within him. However, despite how they tried to play it off, the achievement didn’t come easily to any of them. Sirius was the first to get it, big black dog accompanying the group around the castle and becoming an unexpected staple of the Gryffindor common room. You in particular liked to cuddle up with him on the couch and spoil him with head scratches when you were stressed from school — at least until the secret was revealed and you hit him upside his human head for deceiving you.

James was second to get it, though much less gracefully than Sirius. The whole group of Gryffindors had been hanging out together down by the Black Lake, enjoying the slowly warming weather after class one day. James had the misfortune of being sat between you and Lily, which made things very confusing for his hormonal body and brain. His eyes were trained on his hands, too afraid to actually talk to either of you and embarrass himself which was what usually happened. You and Lily, however, were hell bent on making that occur. While James had had a well known crush on Lily for the last few years, ever since you’d come back to school that year post-puberty you could both tell that James was both emotionally and physically confused. You both delighted in this and used it to your advantage, Lily finding him the most annoying man on earth and you delighting in his flustered expressions (secretly finding him actually pretty cute).

After thirty minutes of torture, James couldn’t take it. You’d made one too many dirty jokes directed at him and he was a blushing mess, fidgeting awkwardly between you and Lily laughing gleefully. He excused himself quickly and uncharacteristically quietly, hurrying off to be out of sight of his friends. You all laughed as you watched him go, and Remus reluctantly stood, muttering something about making sure James didn’t drive himself crazy.

Remus headed straight to the Forbidden Forest, knowing the privacy would be what James desired in the moment. Sure enough there he was, taking a moment to breathe against a tree.

“Easy there, Potter, don’t cum in your pants,” He joked, obviously amused by the whole ordeal. James turned quickly, devastated at Remus seeing him so sexually frustrated.

“Sod off, Lupin. It’s not my fault! They both just sit there looking so fucking good, talking about all these unholy things and you expect me to just be fine with it? It’s so—” Instead of the exasperated groan Remus expected, he was met with a stag standing tall in front of him. He couldn’t help his mouth dropping open, the animal far more magnificent than he could have expected out of the fourteen year old boy.

In a weird shift of figure the deer was back to boy, and James only had a moment of shocked stillness before he was whooping and yelling in the grass. Remus joined him, the two of them yelling and dancing around like idiots in their joy. James pulled him in for a hug, appropriately masculine until he pressed a kiss onto Remus’ lips, still grinning ecstatically as they pulled away. Remus scowled in a way he hoped was convincing.

“I hate it when you do that, Potter,” He grumbled as the two of them returned to their friends.

“Yeah, right,” James laughed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s a blessing to be kissed by my sexy arse.”

3. Peter Pettigrew

While all four of the Marauders were undoubtedly exceptional wizards, that didn’t always translate into their grades. For example, being so ahead in the curriculum made James Potter get lazy, often submitting subpar essays simply because he figured it was already common knowledge and he was more interested in higher level magic. He always ended up with top grades from outstanding extra credit projects, but the point still stood.

Peter was similarly a great wizard. Perhaps not so much a prodigy like James or Sirius, and didn’t dominate the class ranks like Remus, but he did well for himself and was pretty exceptional in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. However, he was failing History of Magic. All four of them had chosen the subject for their OWLs, assuming it would be an easy O because of the ghost professor. They couldn’t be more wrong. Binns was a useless teacher and Peter especially found it difficult to teach himself the material just from the textbook, and was falling dreadfully behind, each essay earning a worse grade than the last.

James had offered to help tutor him before their exams, and the two buckled down in the library almost every day in the weeks leading up to exam season. Peter made pretty good progress, eager to catch up with his friends and prove he was on their level. Still, everyone was nervous for the test and its outcome.

When results were released, you and the Gryffindors were all together. Whilst you and the girls all got the reveal over and done with, the boys all waited with bated breaths. Most of the grades weren’t shocking — three of them knew they could easily get top grades from the little effort they put in, but they were all waiting on Peter’s History of Magic grade. The blond boy opened his paper with shaky hands, eyes scanning frantically over the information contained. Slowly he raised his head, nervous smile apparent.

“I got an A,” He said, and within an instant the boys were on top of him, congratulating him with strong hugs or by clapping him on the back. James grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing them together and pushing a kiss onto Peter’s lips.

“Prongs!” Peter moaned, pushing his face away half-heartedly.

“I’m just proud of you, Wormtail,” He cooed, appearing much like his mother whom you all adored.

“Oi, Potter,” You interrupted, waving your sheet of results around. “I got an O in Potions — where’s my kiss?” James immediately broke your eye contact, and you pretended you weren’t charmed by his embarrassed little smile. He mumbled a response that had his friends ripping him to shreds, egging him on whilst simultaneously teasing him and his alleged manhood. He pressed a gentle peck to your forehead and you raised an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant, but ok.”

4. Regulus Black

Regulus Black had a difficult relationship with the Marauders, to say the very least. By his fifth year — the rest of the boys’ sixth — Sirius had been at the Potter’s for months and Regulus was still reeling from the impact. He was noticeably quieter and more sombre than in years previous, and a dangerous resentment for his brother and his friends bubbled under his skin.

James Potter connected these dots quickly. However, he didn’t really know what to do about it. He wasn’t sorry that Sirius was living with him, but he didn’t like that Regulus was left all alone with their wicked parents, regardless of their personal differences. That brought James to you.

You sat together on the couch, his head resting next to your thighs, curls just brushing against your skin in a way that you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was lamenting about his mental struggles as you worked on your crochet, thinking quietly as he rambled on.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” You asked suddenly, and James tilted his head to look up at you, holding back his laughter at your upside down appearance.

“What?” He asked, “I can’t talk to him, he hates me!”

“When has that ever stopped you before? Lily hates you and yet you bother her all the time,” You said, smile playing on your lips.

“That’s not true!” James protested, “I don’t bother her that much anymore!” You rolled your eyes playfully and turned back to your craft as James continued to ponder the situation.

As usual, he decided you were right. And so he sent a short letter to Regulus, asking for a meeting on the Astronomy tower at midnight. Surprisingly he’d agreed, and the two boys were standing awkwardly across each other on the tower. Regulus refused to start the conversation and so stood in silence, staring down James in an effort to scare him off. James wouldn’t be deterred.

“I just wanted to talk about what happened last year,” He said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“C’mon. I know we’re not friends, but I also figured none of your friends are the talking type either. So, I thought you could talk to me — full confidentiality. I don’t know, blame me, yell at me, I just don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

“How sweet, Potter,” He sneered, “But I don’t need to talk about any of my feelings.”

James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

“Ok, well if you don’t want to talk, how about you listen?” To his surprise, Regulus stayed. One perfect eyebrow raised, he slowly sat next to James, legs dangling over the edge of the tower. After a gesture for him to go on, James started. He began to talk about the process of having Sirius live with him, the feelings they both had about it, and the guilt they both felt about leaving Regulus alone. At that Regulus looked up, eyes pooling with hope.

Then without any warning, Regulus was talking more than James had ever heard before, spilling what he supposed must have been the younger boy’s darkest secrets and vulnerabilities. James was unprepared, not actually expecting him to engage. At one point James had put a comforting arm around Regulus’ shoulder, words failing to express any of the feelings he had inside. Regulus didn’t pull away as James expected, instead only starting to cry. James just watched in disbelief as Regulus cried into his chest. Awkwardly, James arranged himself to press a gentle kiss to Regulus’ forehead right as Regulus moved to look up and speak, resulting in a ridiculous kiss between the two of them.

They jumped apart in less than a second, both with horrified looks on their faces.

“Oh my God—”

“That was an accident I swear—”

“I’m really sorry—”

“I was just trying to comfort you—”

Both boys stumbled over their words as they clambered up to their feet, putting a strictly heterosexual amount of space between them.

“Um, I’m just gonna go,” Regulus settled on, backing up towards the door.

“I’m seriously sorry, Black. It’s just something I do — doesn’t usually backfire like that.” Regulus just nodded, leaving quickly.

“Potter?” He stopped halfway through the door and James looked up. “Thanks.” James didn’t get any time to reply as Regulus was long gone, leaving him to cringe on his own. Neither of them would be telling anybody about the incident. Ever.

5. Lily Evans

You and James had been doing your will-they-won’t-they thing for a long time. Not quite since you met, but once you’d both started to notice the opposite sex you’d been participating in a battle of who could resist the longest. Teasing and cajoling were staples of your relationship. Whilst it had started as a way to pass the time; James had been in love with Lily since second year and you just liked to tease, at some point the feelings crossed over into a real and dangerous territory. However, neither of you wanted to do anything in case the feelings weren’t reciprocated, and truthfully hadn’t realised the true depth of them.

You and James were the only ones not to see the obvious: the feelings were absolutely reciprocated. It was tearing your friends apart, trying to get one of you to finally confess before you finished school forever. There were bets in place, pep talks and everything else the Gryffindors could think of to finally cause the event they’d been hoping for. Eventually, Lily had had enough.

One day you were all hanging out in your dormitory, most of you doing your homework and Marlene fiddling with a record player, trying to get it to come back to life.

“So, what would you guys think if I gave James a chance?” Lily asked, too coy to be genuine, but you were caught off-guard enough that you didn’t notice. “I mean, I know I’ve said some terrible things over the years, but now that he’s backed off he’s actually a really nice guy.”

“But… James?” You asked incredulously, essay immediately forgotten.

“Yeah, why not? He’s the hottest guy in our year, and if all goes to shit it’s only a few months until we graduate and I’ll never have to see him again.”

“But it’s James!” The rest of the girls had caught on to what Lily was scheming and delighted in joining in.

“Why shouldn’t she? It’s not like you like him, right?” Mary asked, studying your expressions. You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. And just when they thought Lily had finally succeeded in getting the ball rolling you answered: “No, of course not. You go ahead, Lils.”

What started as a ploy to get you to admit your feelings only snowballed from there when Lily realised she couldn’t just back out now. And so she hatched a plan. Everything was going perfectly; Sirius and Remus had made sure the common room was devoid of younger students so no unhelpful rumours could be spread, and Marlene had been hanging out with you all evening to make sure you stuck to the schedule she’d devised.

With perfect precision, you and Marlene entered through the portrait just as Lily came down from the dorms.

“Hey, Potter,” She called, and James looked up curiously from his game of wizard’s chess. The redhead marched over to him, cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him strongly. Your jaw dropped open. You couldn’t believe Lily was just going for it like that, but even more you couldn’t believe the sick feeling creeping up from your stomach. You looked at Marlene, who only looked marginally less shocked. A glance around the room proved similar. Although they all knew Lily’s plan, it was two entirely different things to hear about her scheme to get the two of you together and seeing Lily Evans kissing James Potter.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go,” You mumbled, somehow finding your footing to run from the room, desperate to get anywhere where you didn’t have to see that, and the subsequent (or so you believed) union of a happy couple.

Lily pulled away from the kiss, eyes immediately trying to find you and she was puzzled when she couldn’t. A look at Marlene told her all she needed to know and her heart sank; she’d failed. James was looking a little more dazed than the head girl, and suddenly looked terribly awkward in his seat.

“Look, Lils. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way about you anymore. There’s— there’s someone else, and I, I have to go.” With that James headed up to his dormitory, and the rest of your friends stood in a thick silence for several moments.

“I think I just made everything worse,” Lily said, and then the chaos started.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?” Sirius asked loudly, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“I don’t know! I just figured maybe they’d have an epiphany and both realise they’d rather be kissing each other!” Lily cried, throwing herself into an armchair.

You

Lily was right, she’d unintentionally made everything worse. You were upset at what you’d seen and the story you’d attributed to it, and even more so at your terribly timed realisation of your feelings. Because of this you’d started avoiding James in an effort to get over him, which only made you more miserable that you couldn’t talk to your favourite person. James, in turn, hadn’t seen you enter the common room on the night of the kiss and so believed —and dearly hoped — that you were blissfully ignorant, and so was equally perplexed and distraught at the space between you. He’d tried to approach you about it but you evaded him or turned him away every time.

“Hey, love, can we please—”

“It’s fine, James,” You interrupted him, “It was all just a bit of fun, right? All the flirting, the being touchy. But now you’re with Lily and I’ll back off, I get it, don’t worry. I wish you two every happiness.” You tried to sound as genuine as you could while sadness bit at your heart, and left James standing astounded in the corridor. Now he knew that you’d seen the kiss the issue was obvious, but the solution remained a mystery to him.

You’d taken to Marlene to get your feelings out, and she listened patiently as you rattled off a monologue about your childish jealousy and broken heart. Luckily, she’d discussed how to handle this with Lily — who knew you wouldn’t go to her because of her alleged involvement with James, and set off (hopefully) your friend’s last attempt to get you two together. She finally shook you out of it, frustrated with the lack of action.

“They’re not together,” She said, stopping you in your tracks.

“What?”

“They’re not together,” She repeated, making intense eye contact with you. “It was all this dumb plan Lily had to get the two of you together. She thought if you saw James getting with someone else you’d finally realise your feelings for him. And you did, but you were supposed to stick around to hear Potter reject her and say that he liked someone else, you.” You were shocked into silence, what could you say to that?

“So,” You started carefully, “What do I do now?”

James was in a similar situation with the boys.

“She saw Lily kiss me and now she thinks I like Lily when I like her! Plus, she won’t even be in my presence long enough for me to explain that it’s all just this huge misunderstanding and it’s her I want to be snogging!” James lay dramatically across his bed as the boys sighed.

“Prongs, isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked and James cocked his head to the side, looking remarkably like a confused puppy. “Do something she can’t ignore. Make a grand gesture to prove your feelings for her.” James thought about it, it made sense. If you wouldn’t hear his explanation, he’d just have to make you.

“How?”

You and James went into the following Saturday with the same goal. It was Gryffindor’s quidditch semi-final, so there was a party being held whatever the outcome. It would be the first time you’d see each other since you’d realised your mistake since training was taking up all of James’ time.

Gryffindor had won, thankfully, which had both of you in higher spirits. The party was already in full swing by the time you got there, opting for a smoke first to calm your nerves. You’d spotted James almost as soon as you entered, always the heart and soul of a party. You marched towards him with a purpose, but as soon as he set eyes on you he jumped up to stand on a table. Someone had lowered the volume of the music — not silent, but low enough so you could hear him yelling over it. He said your full name, clearly and intentionally in a way that had surrounding people look at you curiously.

“I love you,” He said suddenly. “I am in love with you, not anyone else, and whatever made you think that’s not true was just a huge misunderstanding. Because I love you so much, and all I want to do is snog you until I’m the only name you remember, baby.” You let out a short laugh at his vulgarity and the cocky smirk that accompanied it, but a cheek-splitting smile won out when you thought about the preceding words and the sincerity he’d instilled in them. Before you even knew what you were doing you were racing towards him, gratefully taking Peter’s hand to join James on the table.

You honestly couldn’t tell who had initiated the kiss, but you were suddenly so intimately joined together it was like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, compressing your body in an effort to fuse to his. His strong arms around you couldn’t shield you from the confetti being thrown around (for the match, of course, not just your kiss), nor the catcalls of your friends. You only pulled away when you felt James’ tongue start exploring a little too far, mindful that half the people you knew were watching. You wore matching grins as you parted, foreheads still pressed together and breathing heavy.

While it might have taken four years, innumerable (accidental) kisses and one failed set-up plan to get there, you were sure in your heart that James Potter was the only boy you ever wanted to kiss. And so you did, over and over for the years to come, and you cheered and applauded enthusiastically as the seemingly never ending list of friends and family told stories of receiving a coveted James Potter kiss throughout the years, knowing you were the only one who got to be his bride.