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thinkinginpen · 22 hours

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Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @princessleah94 @littlbitch69

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

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Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour.

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea.

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud."

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug.

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?"

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark."

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?"

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it."

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins.

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--"

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me."

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?"

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?"

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it."

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride."

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him.

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner."

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?"

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on.

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?"

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book."

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.”

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?”

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.”

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there.

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.”

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive.

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.”

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches.

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?”

“Right down to Harbour. East.”

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs.

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes.

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers.

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.”

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters.

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste.

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...”

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.”

“With loud machinery...”

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way.

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you.

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says.

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown.

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.”

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.”

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building.

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment.

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--”

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--”

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.”

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?”

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.”

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #au #just one reason #the gray man

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loui3e · 3 days

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Guilty Pleasure

It’s been awhile since you’ve turned up the dial’

Worst!Logan x Reader

Summary: After a first date gone wrong Logan finally confesses the truth.

A/n: I might make a smutty part 2 if you all enjoy this. Has been proofread.

Warnings: A sprinkle of angst, miscommunication (I know), all is solved in the end. Kinda suggestive.

Words: 795

First dates are odd things.

Scary even, especially with a man who you think doesn’t want a bit to do with you.

You’re convinced Wade put him up to this because there’s a scowl permanently etched into his facial features.

You won’t let this get you down though, I mean you’re still on a date with a man that you’ve had a massive crush on since he’s moved in next door. Better than nothing you suppose.

You sip your milkshake, your hands awkwardly tapping the table in an attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“What do you do?”

Your head shoots up, eyes wide. That’s the first time he’s spoken since you’ve arrived to this diner besides telling the waiter what he wanted. His words are gruff, almost reluctant but its words nonetheless.

“Uh, what do I do? Um, art.” You stumble over your words, not use to the sound of your voice after all this quiet. Logan raises a brow from across you.

“Art?”

“Yeah, like I paint.”

“Traditionalist then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I guess so.” There’s a new bout of silence, a little more comfortable.

“What do you do?” You reflect the words back, a little happier than his. Shifting your plate out of the way and setting your head on your hand so your full attention is on him.

Logan wouldn’t consider himself a particular interesting person, sure he’s got some stories to tell but those are all circumstantial. But your eyes are on him; bright and curious.

You’re just a naturally curious person, but also partly crushing on him. He’s certainly handsome. You’ve seen him on the halls of your apartment complex, tall and broad. You could fantasise about him all day.

“Not much.”

Your daydream is cut short.

“Surely something?”

Logan’s fully realised he really doesn’t do a lot, now that he thinks about. He expects you to retreat back into disinterest but you don’t, you pry instead.

“Everyone has something, what’s your calling?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. That scowl sneaks back onto his face as he sits back against his seat arms crossed.

You think you’ve might’ve said something wrong, but not for long before the waiter comes over with the bill.

It’s not until you see him at a bar do you speak next, you haven’t really seen him since the date. “Logan,” you call as you take a seat beside him, smiling timidly.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgment. Logan feels a little bad for avoiding you after that date, but after your conversation he doesn’t quite think he’s worth your time.

“We hadn’t spoken after that date, I don’t wanna pry but did I say something wrong? I mean I know Wade put you up to this so you probably didn’t even want to go.”

“What? Wade didn’t put me up to this,” Logan speaks with hard honesty, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I thought- you looked so disinterested.” You lean in closer to him, head cocked to the side. His eyes met yours and he feels a pang of guilt.

God, he’s an idiot, it didn’t even occur to him it he looked like that. “No, not at all,” he takes a swig of whiskey before continuing. “I just, haven’t been on a date in awhile. I don’t think you’d like me much once you got to know me.”

Your jaw falls open as you look at him before you start laughing. Relief washing over your features, and partly at the thought that you wouldn’t like Logan once you got to know him.

“Logan I’ve been crushing on you since you moved in, you can’t scare me off.”

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” Logan places a bill down onto the table for his drink before getting up to leave. He’s trying to put up a wall between you and him.

“Logan I’m serious,” you shout after him following him out of the bar. Logan turns on his heel to face you a before you can think you’re pulling him in by the lapels of his jacket and crashing your lips against his. You pull back, stunned.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think-“ now it’s his turn to take you by surprise because his kissing you back. Your arms wrap around his neck, his walls crumble under your touch.

He tastes like cheap whiskey and smoke. An addictive taste that you’re sure you’ll be coming back for; like a cigarette.

“I guess you were serious,” Logan chuckles, breathing heavily.

“I can show you how even more serious I am, if you come back to mine,” you grin up at him, still wrapped up in his arms and the electricity of the moment.

“I’d like that.”

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you

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emo-axel · 12 hours

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A beautiful day outside

All the colors of the rainbow...

Prism belongs to me

OG Ink belongs to comyet

#undertale #undertale au #utmv #ink #ink sans #prism sans #prism #I don't tend to really do stuff with backgrounds much #but for something I was just throwing together #this turned out a LOT better than I expected #myart

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 days

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AGATHA HARKNESS (mcu | agatha all along)

—

“A Witch’s Bargain” (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader) and (mentioned Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader)

| Once you find out a witch as infamous and powerful as Agatha is seeking you out you decide to go to her before she can pull one over on you; an attempt was made.

| SFW, obeah, flirting, hints at immortality, reader has something going on with both Agatha and Rio, -caribbean!reader & witch!reader

| pic source: Agatha All Along (2024)

| Note, the Reader-Insert is speaking with an accent but I didn’t write the particulars of it down bcs that would’ve been a lot to parse through even for me. Also, happy less-than-forty days till Halloween!

| 2k+ words

“Oh my,” you drawl, leant back against a large tree near Westview’s local psychic shop and nearly lost in its shadow, “this is…underwhelming.”

A whopping three people — only two witches, one of which was currently powerless — pause in front of you on the sidewalk, your words ringing even truer at the way the boy amongst them jumps at your abrupt entrance.

Lips pursed, you look him up and down with little favor. If this was to be the makings of Agatha Harkness’s “great coven” the pickings truly must’ve been slim.

The very witch you came to see turns to you, her hair falling into her face with the movement like she’s in some big brand shampoo commercial. Without another word, you watch on with an opposing stillness, your heart remaining steady.

Interesting.

For a woman you’d all thought dead Agatha looked well. Hair not clumpy, skin not worn or leathery. Even the way she held herself still bellied her comfort in mysticism, even dressed like a modern day woman as she was.

“Mm,” she hums shortly, turning in place with a few unhurried steps until she can cast narrowed eyes onto her apparent newest tag-along. Matching her stare head on you lean into the sun’s light a little more, your own thick curls brushing across a few low hanging branches where your hair is wrapped in cloth atop your head. “I don’t recall asking for an Obeah Woman,” she announces, tone bitingly light.

A scoff falls past your lips.

“And I didn’t expect the whispers for a coven would lead me to you, like this,” you twitch, letting your smile spread your plush lips thin, “broken and without your gifts.”

“I wouldn’t test me, New Girl,” she parries, and you hold your palms up in surrender.

Though your expression doesn’t sober.

The smile that rises to match your own in response to that is lopsided and sharp. Years worth of condescension she’d grown too used to falling back on without caution due to the magic coursing through her coming to the surface.

Agatha Harkness’s name in whispers had sent you into a fit at first — a witch of her caliber and age with your name on her mind never meant good — but looking at her now you could only tilt your head.

On the other hand, the boy with her seems eager to shake apart with laughter that grinds upon your nerves. Luckily, one look from the Salem veteran keeps him quiet.

Mostly.

In seconds she too is cackling, however — the boy’s muffled laughter acting as background noise — and you don’t bother stopping your sneer then.

“Oh, I see. You think you're hot shit,” she draws out, voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you operate a failing apothecary out of your apartment?”

Lips flattening, you step from the shadow, your face fixed without obvious malice to the best of your ability.

“It’s a side hustle,” you sniff. “And still better than being sentenced to 100 lashes and persecuted by the Danish; if I ever see the inside of a Christianshavn prison again I’ll frig up more than a few rum distilleries.”

“Of course. Now you just get persecuted by American Authority instead,” she says, the cut of her mouth sly.

With a flourish you wave her off. “Wretched as your worry is, it’s unneeded. Poison is no different than an elixir when you make it backwards.”

“Okay,” she simpers, shrugging herself, voice light and eyes never straying from your form as you glide closer over the concrete.

Powerless or not, something beneficial could surely come of making the occasional acquaintance of such a renowned woman.

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention though, and you stop moving to turn your head to find who you can only assume is the cause of your blight today.

Your sneer situates itself right back over your lips.

“Lilia,” you announce, the woman stops in her tracks and cuts you a brazen look out of the corner of her eyes. You take caution to only let your molars grind together for a second, releasing the tension in increments as your gaze narrows on her and you stand taller. “I should cut you down where you stand.”

The psychic huffs, shawl sliding a bit down the slope of her shoulder.

Slowly pulling the covering back into place she tuts at you, “Or…you could not. I mean, let’s face it, you would’ve been drawn here regardless of if I gave Agatha your name.”

“Unlikely,” you snap, words ground out like you’d rather spit on her than keep to something so civil as using mere words to express yourself.

And you would if you weren’t in such mixed company. Lilia was only meek when she was playing some angle after all.

You didn’t like anyone else making your moves for you, forcing you to speed up your timeline. Your own plans be damned.

“Witches, witches!” Agatha cuts in, holding her hands out to keep you and the psychic apart despite the way she’s only looking your way. “Let’s not tear each other apart just yet, hm?”

She eyes you from head to toe, taking her time to pan down as she takes in your flowing clothing and lightly clacking beads, before giving you a wicked look. “We wouldn’t want to mar anything too pristine before things really get interesting, now would we?”

Knocking your gaze to Lilia for a second you clock how she initially meets your glower, but keep your gaze steady regardless, just up until she finally twitches in discomfort. Only then do you ease up, tossing a grimace of a smile her way, before watching Agatha closely once more as the psychic wanders off somewhere out of sight with a few muttered curses you pay no mind to.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s expression has changed, having lost its begrudging appraisal and turned furrowed.

You raise your brows, “Harkness?”

She squints, obscuring fine cut hazel.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“Ah,” you grin without teeth, shoulders shaking, “so you can’t tell your porridge from your oats either I see.”

She rolls her eyes.

“The ‘wise sage’ sage act is very annoying, I have to tell you. It’s really ruining an otherwise beautiful package and I think you should work on that.”

“Should I?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, alright,” you examine your bare nails, twisting your wrist this way and that to get a ‘better’ view of your cuticles, “you’ll have to put the request in with my secretary first, though, I fear.”

Agatha’s pet’s head pops up from over her shoulder, his face screwed up, “You have a secretary? …No offense.”

Sighing, you drop your hand back to your side and make a point of rolling your eyes hard enough to nearly make yourself dizzy.

“No. I don’t,” you tell him finally, though you don’t look away from the actual witch in front of you even as you do.

Immediately after you raise your brow at Agatha, however, “As for you, you know full well that I’m better than any sage, and that passing me up would be a waste when you need a potion maker. Regardless, no we haven’t met, but your backside is just as unpleasant as people describe.”

“Hm,” she hums in agreement, moving to toss her round brunette curls around to her back with a wink in your direction, “unpleasantly beautiful, you might say.”

“Worthless more like it,” you correct.

Agatha stops putting on her little show so quickly you might as well have just lashed her across the face.

Briefly, her eye spasms, “Watch it.”

“I might,” you say, “so long as you prove me wrong. Now, if we could get back on track.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, glaring at you now. “Fine. How bout’ this, unless you can make an elixir to make me invincible from every witch closing in on me, then scram. I’m dealing with enough ameatures as is.”

Head thrown back for a second, you laugh, letting your fervor echo throughout Lilia’s forever vacant parking lot.

“Oh, make no mistake, Harkness, I can do that...” you say eventually, voice easy in a way that gives the other woman pause. You jerk a brow up, briefly mirroring the way her interest seems to physically jump up to stare at you, “…for a price.”

Gaze finally brightening she moves to knock her male companion on the shoulder, gesturing your way afterwards before plastering a much “nicer” smile on her face.

“Teen’s got the money. Give the woman whatever she wants, come on.”

“Oh no, I don’t want money,” you cut in with a flick of your hand at the grabble she’s making for the boy’s wallet.

Agatha pauses in the middle of silently arguing with Teen, glancing your way from her slightly bent position.

“—You don’t?”

“I might not call myself a witch, but that in no way means I’m confused as to what you witch them does do.” You get closer to her, and how she straightens to meet your advance makes you preen. “I want a favor. A binding one.”

“As if,” the boy cuts in with, “A witch of her caliber doesn’t do binding spells, they’ll only hinder her.”

Oh my—

“You well fucking rude,” you say distastefully, giving him a harsh look. Irritatingly, his forward ass only lays his hand over his heart with a gasp.

For her part all Agatha does is laugh, knocking you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and taking you right out of your stare down. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dear. Cause you sure are delusional.”

She snorts.

You suck your teeth.

This back and forth routine was getting far more tiresome than you’d anticipated.

“The only lucky one here is you,” you deadpan.

She opens her mouth to respond, that same dismissal in the curve of her mouth, but then pauses. Expression twitching, she leans even closer to you to inhale.

Frowning, you pull your upper half away from her.

“What—?”

“—I should’ve known,” Agatha exclaims lowly, pointing her finger at you. “You reek of her psycho, that's why you seemed so familiar. What have you been dabbling in, I wonder, to smell so thoroughly of Rio? Joining her plot against me?”

You shake your head, looking away from her. You’d only hung around Vidal for the same reasons you were hanging around Agatha: to gain connections and, better still, favors you could cash in on if you ever found yourself in a bind due to your own ventures.

You hadn’t been lying earlier when you’d said you’d start making drastic moves if you saw the inside of a cell again, you didn’t care where it was. You’d burn it all down until they had to put you down before you’d waste away imprisoned ever again.

“Absolutely not. Whatever melee that went down between you two is yours alone. All I’m worrying about is my deal.”

To the displeasure of your heightening pulse, however, Agatha doesn’t just look passingly interested or even admiring any longer. She looks like she’s been given a puzzle, and like she likes it.

“Too late,” she chirps, fluttering her lashes, “Rio is far too picky about the company she keeps for your involvement to be left unexplored.”

Hand coming up, she runs her nails along your jaw. You stave off a flinch from the ticklish sensation her touch elicits. “You’ve played with too hot a fire, Darling, situating yourself in the middle of our fight,” Agatha finishes, clicking her tongue, before walking her digits back up the umber expanse of your skin to press the pads of them into the hinge of your jaw.

You swallow roughly, hope she can’t hear it.

Agatha smiles, pressing in until she can force you to meet her eyes again. They’re roving, almost manic when paired with her smile.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes alight. “Maybe I do need an Obeah Woman after all. We’ll be going to the Witch’s Road, won’t you come with?”

No. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The feel of Rio’s blackened energy still a hot, sizzling brand across your lips.

One deal had been made already, yes, but were you sure about pursuing this one as well with the inevitability of getting caught in the middle of a centuries old rivalry so probable?

Unfortunately, your, “Fine,” slips past your lips before you can stop yourself, and rather than deal with the indignity of walking your agreement back you stay quiet.

Watching for her move. Reasoning with yourself that there were still benefits here despite this new hiccup, if only you played your cards right.

She doesn’t make you wait long.

A shiver rises over you as her presence does the same, her steps carrying her till there’s hardly a whisper between your bodies. Even without her magic, being this close to Agatha Harkness allowed her to snake herself across your soul same as Rio Vidal had when you’d also unintentionally peaked her curiosity a while back.

“Wonderful,” she coos, the pad of her thumb gliding up your cheekbone as her hazel bores deep into your brown, “let’s see about that deal then.”

Dammit to hell; this had better be worth whatever Agatha and Rio’s combined interest would do to you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Fun fact, actually, I wrote this when I’d only watched episode two up until Agatha and Teen left Lilia’s place, and so didn’t know that Jen (gorgeous as she is) would be who they went to for poisons (or that that was in any way a requirement in the first place) so that was a fun little coincidence. Otherwise, the setting of this oneshot I just pulled out of my ass fr.

Also, character motivations are a bit funky but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason and really want to post this tonight so we’ll all have to deal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean word of the day (i.e.,the glossary): “Frig” - an alternative way to say ‘fuck’. so ‘frig up’ = ‘fuck up’.

“Melee” - drama or gossip.

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the words in this glossary aren’t used by every caribbean*

EDITED: 9/26/24

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themeraldee · 1 day

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The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners?

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news.

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?”

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything.

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures.

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters.

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything.

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person.

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash.

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat.

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him.

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in.

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose.

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works.

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing.

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display.

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions.

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt.

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table.

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?”

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.”

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?”

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special.

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true.

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite.

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence.

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation.

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk.

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.”

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious.

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes.

“You don’t think that’s it?”

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too.

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine.

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it.

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!”

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival.

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.”

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way.

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is.

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you.

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out?

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?”

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself.

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you.

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you.

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort.

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with.

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering.

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day.

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help.

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you.

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint.

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree.

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.”

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks.

“I love you.”

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better.

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy.

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.”

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked.

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything.

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with.

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again.

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you.

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him.

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you.

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air.

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you.

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves.

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears.

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard.

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.”

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage.

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.”

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls.

His stomach flips.

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you.

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love.

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on.

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare.

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night.

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does.

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster.

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away.

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart.

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

#yayyyy it's done #I need to learn to keep my chapters at a reasonable word count honestly #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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tagedeszorns · 2 days

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Are we going to be as bad as Star Wars fandom?

Congratulations - so-called fans have managed to almost ostracise a good-humoured, energetic, fact-loving and creative person from the fandom! (not me, I'm at most two of those things) What's wrong with people who find it necessary to come to other people's comments sections to bitch about how their favourite faction sucks? How many times must you have been poured out of the bath by your mother as a baby (and apparently falling directly onto your too-soft fontanel) to think that's acceptable behaviour? What do these people with the mirror-smooth cerebral cortex expect the result to be? That the person they shat in the living room will suddenly like their faction? That they will give up and close down their blog? And then what? Have they won? I'm so angry! Warhammer offers room for so much creativity! For so much interaction! And then there are these dregs and turds who have nothing better to do than take out their dissatisfaction with their messed up lives on others.

I am not talking about a good discussion here! I will intellectually (and maybe even literally) fistfight Fabius-haters in a parking lot of their choice (well, after I've beaten my Blight, that is), but there's like a Marianne-trench-deep gulf between "heated discussion, using facts and quotes" and "vomiting up shittalk to a person having fun". Shocking news: everyone has factions in the Warhammer universe that they don't care about or even actively dislike! Do you turn that into other people's problem? Well, maybe in fanart. Or fanfics. But then you don't shove it down the throats of the fans of that faction. And unless you're the most chaos-god-abandoned lurcher in the world, you keep these emotions to yourself and your peers and never-never-get on that factions fans' nerves with your gratuitous opinion!

And no "block that cunt" is not the solution. Toxic people spread their horrible attitude if not dealt with properly and it is NOT the task of the person they harass to teach them manners. It's our duty as fandom to show those fuckwits that their behaviour is not tolerable. Because what if they harass a mentally vulnerable person who has no energy to do anything and will get the full brunt of such an attack right to their face?

Very simple rules of behaviour in fandom:

Show everyone your Blorbo. Always. Everywhere!

Sing the praises of your faction. At every opportunity.

Let others do the same with their favourites and be happy that there are so many flavours, even if you don't like them.

Don't get on other fans' nerves uninvited in their safe space!

A blog is public and private at the same time. Kant's imperativ

Please add your own, because what do I know, I'm just a fanartist here for lighthearted fun and heated discussions.

Slaaanesh on a tricycle! Why do I even have to write this?

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #Fandom #Meta #seriously - WTF is wrong with people?

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kikyoupdates · 2 days

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For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

prologue | story masterlist | next

When faced with the demands of the strongest sorcerer, your family can’t possibly protest. Well, not that they would have wanted to, anyway. They must be happy they don’t have to deal with you anymore.

Out of sheer spite, your mother insisted you live with the rest of the clan and be forced into a life of cruelty and discrimination, but even she would never dare defy Gojo Satoru. Besides, her wish has already been fulfilled. You still won’t have a shot at a normal life. Even if you had been given the right to choose for yourself, now that you’ve met Satoru and discovered what world this is, there’s no way you would ever take the easy way out.

For better or worse, you will be a jujutsu sorcerer.

True to his word, Satoru was able to convince the Gojo Clan members to let you stay with them. You’re not sure exactly what he told them, but he may as well be their deity. Granted, he’s still only a kid, but in the grand scheme of things, bringing in a single girl to stay at the estate isn’t that big of a deal. It isn’t a difficult request to fulfill. Based on the way everyone turns up their noses at the sight of you, however, you can tell they aren’t too happy about it.

“No one here will ever hurt you,” Satoru promises. He keeps glancing over at you every few seconds as he leads you through the grounds of the estate—which is massive, might you add. He’s a lot more attentive than you were expecting. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re a weak, helpless baby bird. Which you might as well be, in all fairness.

You nod and smile brightly. “Okay. Thank you, Satoru. I’m really happy to be here.”

“Are your injuries really painful?” he asks with a frown. “We don’t have anyone here that knows how to convert cursed energy into positive energy. But if I try asking, maybe they can reach out to another clan and bring someone over to heal you.”

“You don’t need to go to the trouble. I’ll be okay.”

Satoru watches as your grin somehow gets even wider, despite the fact that the bruised, swollen parts of your face must be aching uncontrollably. He’s not sure why you’re always smiling so much. It’s not like you ever had any reason to smile. Not with how horribly your family has always treated you.

Then again, that’s exactly what drew him in. Your warm, sunny disposition, which is so starkly different from what he’s used to. Even if it doesn’t make much sense, a smile suits you. He likes seeing you smile.

He’s already decided that he’s going to protect that smile of yours.

You’re given a nice place to stay. Satoru insisted that you live in the same building as him. It’s obvious that he wants to keep you nearby, in case anyone dares to try anything. Although you’re willing to bet that they won’t risk upsetting him. Not when he’s made it clear that you’re off-limits.

It’s kind of crazy how much power and authority a literal child has.

Gojo Satoru is in a class of his own. The details of his upbringing were never openly disclosed in the anime or manga, but you know for a fact that he didn’t have anyone he could truly call a close friend. Not until he met Suguru.

You may be hopelessly weak for now, but if nothing else, you’ll make it so that he never has to feel lonely.

That night, you settle into your big, spacious room. You didn’t bring anything along with you for the move. It’s not like you had any personal belongings to speak of. Certainly nothing valuable, either. Your new room is a bit empty right now, save for a few decorations here and there, but you resolve to brighten it up and make it your own. All in due time.

Before you tuck in for bed, Satoru stops by.

“Hi,” he greets, poking his head into the room. “You don’t mind if I come in for a bit, right?”

“Of course not,” you smile. “Go right ahead.”

He nods and steps inside. There’s a clan member waiting by the doorway, and they flash you a brief glare before turning their back towards you and sliding the door shut. As expected, you’re far from popular. They probably think you’re just a hindrance, or maybe even a distraction. You’re not sure if they’ll ever change how they feel about you, but it’s definitely better than staying with your own family.

Besides, as long as Satoru likes you, that’s more than enough.

“Is this room okay?” he asks, kneeling down onto a cushion. “If you don’t like it, I can get you a different room instead.”

“It’s perfect,” you reassure.

“Really? You can be honest. I can tell that you’re the kind of person to hide how you feel because you don’t want to upset anyone else. I already know your dad is the one who beat you, but it didn’t look like you were going to rat him out.”

“I just didn’t want to stir up even more of a fuss. Besides, seeing other people get hurt won’t make me feel any better. I’m happy enough just to be here. Again, thank you, Satoru. For helping me.”

You sure like to thank him a lot. He’s not really used to being thanked—for anything, really. He’s being trained and brought up as the strongest sorcerer. It’s a given that he’s meant to save and protect those who are weaker than him. But you don’t take any of that for granted. You’re never shy about showing your appreciation. You want him to know how much every one of his gestures means to you.

He likes that. He likes it a lot.

“If it’s alright, I’m going to try and go to sleep now,” you say. “I’m pretty tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Oh. Did you want to spend the night in my room? Like a sleepover? Would you be allowed to do that?”

Satoru blinks. The invitation catches him off guard, and he watches as you pat the spot beside you, on your futon, still smiling brightly.

He turns away in a hurry, cheeks red.

“I-It’s fine,” he stammers. “I should sleep in my own room. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It seems like you are, so… I’ll leave now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you happily reply, but Satoru is already out the door, nearly tripping over his feet in the process.

You giggle at the sight. He’s so adorable. You can’t even express how happy you are to be here. The future may look grim, but you’re determined to change it, no matter what it takes.

That night, you dream of a world where Gojo Satoru is saved.

“Satoru. Here, try this. I made yummy rice balls for us to eat. There’s a secret ingredient inside. Can you guess what it is?”

Satoru reaches out and takes a rice ball into his hands, furrowing his brows as he looks it over. As far as rice balls go, it looks pretty normal. It’s actually rolled up really neatly. He’s surprised you made this yourself. You did a pretty good job.

“Secret ingredient, huh?” Satoru shrugs. “Sure, I’ll try it.”

He takes a big bite, and although he’s not really sure what he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Gross!” he exclaims, immediately spitting it out of his mouth and onto the ground. He then proceeds to stare at the inside of the rice ball he just bit into. “Did you… you actually put chocolate inside of this? Disgusting! What’s wrong with you?!”

You frown. “What, you mean you don’t like it? I actually think it’s pretty good. I was sure this combination would be a hit.”

Satoru watches, horrified, as you bite into your own rice ball, smiling all the while. There might actually be something wrong with you after all. He’s starting to realize that you’re slightly unhinged.

“Remind me not to eat anything you make ever again,” he shudders.

“I’ll pick something better next time, don’t worry. Oh! How about this? What do you think of rice balls stuffed with ice cream—”

“No.”

This is what most of your days look like. It’s been just over a week since you arrived at the Gojo estate. Your injuries have almost fully healed. Also, you’re no longer required to do chores at virtually every waking moment, so whenever Satoru isn’t busy with training, you spend all of your time together.

Satoru has to do a lot of different things. It’s not just honing his jujutsu abilities, day in and day out. He isn’t allowed to slack off when it comes to academics, either. It’s clear that his family intends for him to be perfect in any way possible. They refuse to let him settle for anything other than the best.

It’s a lot of pressure for a kid. Satoru makes it look easy, but nevertheless, you feel sorry for him. Which is why you always try to make sure that he’s having fun when he’s with you. You want him to have some semblance of a childhood, at the very least.

Of course, you still can’t grant him the freedom you wish he had. It’s always inevitable that someone gets in the middle of your time together.

“Master Satoru. It’s time for you to work on your studies.”

One of his usual attendants comes to pick him up. Satoru clicks his tongue in visible annoyance, but as always, he doesn’t protest. He has a strong sense of duty and purpose. A determination to uphold his responsibilities as the strongest.

Before he leaves, though, he turns back towards you.

“I want [Name] to come with me today,” he says. “She can at least sit in the room while I’m doing my work, right?”

The attendant blinks. He’s bewildered, of course, and you’re not sure what else to do but bat your eyes at him with a bright, hopeful expression. You may be weak, but you’d like to think that you’re a pretty cute kid. It’s about time someone developed a soft spot for you.

“She’ll distract you,” the attendant refuses. He narrows his eyes at you in frustration, so apparently, you’re not that cute.

Satoru pauses for a moment, then grabs you by the hand and pulls you close.

“I want her there,” he insists, interlocking his fingers with yours. “She’s coming. I’ve already decided.”

“Master Satoru, you can’t—”

Too late. It seems like he’s in an awfully stubborn mood today, so for better or worse, you find yourself in the same room as him while he has his lesson.

It’s a bit awkward. Satoru told you to sit right next to him the whole time, and although he doesn’t allow himself to get distracted, it still feels weird to be sitting in on a private lesson. While the teacher glares at you the whole time, no less.

“Do you know what the answer to this question is?” the teacher asks, pointing to one of the questions in the textbook Satoru is learning from.

Satoru chews on the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. “It’s… B. The answer is B.”

“Sorry. I’m afraid that’s not correct,” the teacher says. She scribbles something down onto a piece of paper. “It’s alright. That was an exceptionally advanced question, so I can’t blame you for—”

“It’s C.”

To be honest, you didn’t mean to voice your thoughts aloud. It was a reflexive, absentminded remark. The answer was just so obvious that you ended up blurting it out.

But now, both Satoru and the teacher are staring at you in bewilderment.

Satoru turns towards the teacher with a frown. “Is she right?”

“...yes,” the teacher replies, looking somewhat reluctant to do so. “But it was a multiple choice question, so I’m sure it was just luck. Let’s move on to—”

“[Name], what about the next one?” Satoru asks, pointing towards another spot on the page. “Try answering this one, too.”

So, you do. You don’t just answer that question, but the next one, and the next one after it, and the next one after that, and so on and so forth. The teacher looks both amazed and horrified. Even Satoru can’t seem to hide how taken aback he is. They’re both staring at you like you’ve been hiding this incredible intelligence all along, when really, you’re kind of cheating. You died when you were sixteen years old. Satoru is incredibly smart for his age, but even taking that into account, your years of lived experience give you an obvious advantage.

Still, you have to admit, it feels kind of nice. Finally being acknowledged for something, that is.

Satoru’s lesson ends, and you can see the teacher whispering to the other Gojo Clan members about what just happened. Their eyes all widen in shock as they glance your way. They believe you’re ‘gifted’ all of a sudden, and while it doesn’t mean much for a jujutsu sorcerer, at least they might think a bit more highly of you from now on. Maybe they’ll finally approve of you being by Satoru’s side.

“I didn’t know you were smart,” Satoru admits. “To be honest, up until now, I thought you were kind of dumb.”

“...oh.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Is there a good way to be dumb?”

“I just meant that you seemed a bit dumb, because of how straightforward and simple you are. And you’re nice to everyone, no matter how badly they treat you. You’re easy to take advantage of, so… yeah. I thought you were dumb. Sorry.”

Satoru chuckles sheepishly. You snort in response, amused by his uncharacteristic shyness. You suppose it doesn’t really matter whether people think you’re smart or not. From the moment you were born, it was clear that you would have to defy everyone’s expectations. You’re going to have to work harder than most in order to prove yourself. In order to have a chance at saving people.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Satoru remarks.

“What thing?”

“It’s a thing you do sometimes. You drift off, and even though you’re usually smiling all the time, your face will get all serious for a few moments.”

“Oh. I guess I have a habit of getting lost in my thoughts. Sorry. I just really want to get stronger. I end up thinking about it a lot.”

Satoru doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s strange that you’re so fixated on improving yourself. He’s the strongest, so of course, there’s a heavy burden upon his shoulders. He has to be the best. It’s both his birthright and his destiny. There’s simply no way around it.

But as for you…

Come to think of it, do you actually need to become stronger?

He’s already decided that he’s going to protect you. Even if he hasn’t known you for very long yet, he likes having you around. There’s no reason why he can’t look after you. It’d be nice if you got stronger too, he supposes, but it’s not like you’d ever be stronger than him. With him by your side, your future is already assured.

Which is why it’s weird. There’s this urgency and desperation he senses from you, almost constantly. It’s not like your family is around anymore. And even if they ever tried to take you back, he wouldn’t let that happen.

And yet, you’re still determined to become stronger. It’s almost like there’s something you’re not telling him. Something more than just a simple desire to prove yourself.

…then again, maybe he’s reading into things too much.

Word travels fast, and soon, pretty much everyone in the clan has discovered that you possess intellect far beyond what they imagined (not really, but whatever, you’ll take it). Satoru keeps insisting that you be allowed to sit in on his lessons from time to time. They reluctantly allow it, and sometimes, you even help answer some of the questions he has—instead of the teacher whose literal job it is to do so. She doesn’t seem to like you very much, unfortunately.

One night, as you’re preparing to go to bed, Satoru stops by your room again.

He does this a lot. He usually makes a point of saying goodnight to you before he goes to sleep. It’s adorable, and it warms your heart to see that he’s starting to care for you so much. Sometimes, you still can’t believe this is the life you’re living.

You were expecting him to poke his head into the room before exchanging a few words, as usual, but this time, he turns up with a futon of his own.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” he declares.

You blink. “Oh. You got permission?”

“Yes. They whined about it a lot, but I said I didn’t care. It’s not even a big deal. You said before we could have a sleepover, right? Unless… you changed your mind.”

He averts his gaze, looking a bit bashful. Perhaps he’s worried that you’ll refuse. Although you’re not sure who in their right mind would turn away this adorable little sweetheart.

“I definitely didn’t change my mind,” you grin. “I’m always happy to have a sleepover with you. We can stay up all night telling each other scary stories! I know a few really good ones.”

“Why would I be scared of some stupid stories?” Satoru brushes off. “I’ve already exorcized all kinds of cursed spirits. And none of those were scary, either. I’m too strong to have anything to be scared of.”

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t heard them yet. You act tough now, but I bet you’ll be crying later.”

Satoru rolls his eyes as he lays his futon down next to yours. He doesn’t think much of it at first, but once he’s lying down, facing you, and when he realizes just how close the two of you are… he’s embarrassed to admit that his heart starts beating a bit faster.

“If this is weird, I can leave,” he mumbles.

“It’s not weird at all. Like I said, I’m happy you’re here. Ah. You’re not just trying to come up with excuses so you don’t have to hear my scary stories, right? I see right through you, Satoru. You’re not sneaky.”

Satoru laughs. It’s a pleasant, melodic sound, and you hope you’ll be able to hear it more often from now on.

Before you can start telling your stories—you really do have some good ones you’re excited to share—Satoru scoots in a bit closer, then gently places his hand down on top of yours.

“It’s okay,” he says, and since you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you just frown. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re not strong, because I’m strong enough for the both of us. Before, I said I’d be your friend if you showed me how you planned on getting stronger, but… it’s fine. You don’t need to do that anymore. I’ll still be your friend. I don’t care if you’re weak or not. So, don’t worry about what anyone else says. I’ll stay with you no matter what.”

Through the dark of night, you can’t tell, but he’s blushing profusely right now. He feels like he just said something really cheesy. But he’s not going to take it back. He doesn’t regret it. He means it wholeheartedly.

You, his first ever friend, are irreplaceable.

More time passes, and as much as it pains you to admit, you still haven’t gotten any stronger.

While Satoru is busy training, you do the same. You try your absolute hardest to make some kind of progress, and yet, the changes are minimal—if any. It’s as if your body simply isn’t cut out for this, which is a bitter irony. To think that you’ve been reincarnated into a world where you have the potential to do a lot of good and help a lot of people, but your weakness is holding you back.

The knowledge you have is invaluable. You know that. Even if you’re not all-powerful, you still have the ability to make a difference. But this is Jujutsu Kaisen. A world in which death isn’t just possible; it’s more common than surviving. If you don’t have any way of protecting yourself and others, who’s to say you’ll even last long enough to save everyone?

It hurts. You hate being weak. You hate that your efforts yield no results. Unlike in the real world, where people can usually make up for talent or skill through sheer dedication and hard work, here, your fate may as well be sealed.

“Not like that,” Satoru says, shaking his head. “Do it like this.”

He proceeds to give you yet another up close demonstration of his cursed energy at work. He flattens several pop cans in one fell swoop, while you’ve been struggling to do the same to a single one of them.

You exhale tiredly. “Stop saying it like it’s second nature. You have better control of your cursed energy than anyone else. I can’t possibly compare.”

“Well, I don’t really know how else to explain it,” he shrugs.

Your shoulders slump. A while ago, you had your sixth birthday. Which means it’s been slightly more than a year since you’ve gone to live with the Gojo Clan. A whole year, and still, you’re as weak as ever. You know it’s still too early to give up, but it’s hard not to feel discouraged when you have Satoru by your side, and every day, you’re reminded of the fact that you’ll be helpless to change his fate if this continues.

“You’re getting upset again. Even though I keep telling you that it’s okay if you don’t get stronger. You have me. You won’t ever need to be scared.”

Satoru smiles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a loose hug. During your time together, he’s become a lot more cheerful and expressive, which is of course due to your influence. It makes you happy to see, and you’re overjoyed that he cares about you to this extent. If you didn’t know what the future holds in store, you would’ve been more than willing to sit back and let him protect you.

He doesn’t realize that he’s destined for an early death. He’s so sure of himself, so confident in his strength, that he doesn’t even consider it to be a possibility. Which is why you do need to become stronger. Even if he doesn’t understand why.

You hug him back for a few moments, then pull away—much to Satoru’s disappointment.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To train some more. I already talked to one of the clan members earlier. They agreed to help teach me. Reluctantly, but still.”

“But we’re supposed to be having a lesson together soon,” he says, making a point to pout at you.

You smile weakly. “Sorry. I’ll be there next time. I just… can’t afford to slack off. If I keep working hard, then eventually, something will give.”

Of course, as you expected, your supervised training session doesn’t go much better. You can see the clan member repeatedly rolling their eyes at your lack of talent. The only reason they’re helping you at all is because Satoru insisted they honor your requests.

Once again, you’re left feeling hopeless and deflated. You wonder if you’ll ever see any improvement, or if you truly are beyond salvation. Destined to be so weak that you can’t protect a single person.

Not even your dearest friend.

You stare down at your feet, gaze glassy, and for a moment, it feels like you’re about to cry. Isn’t there anything you can do? Anything at all? Some kind of trick that will allow even a weakling like you to have a fighting chance?

Some kind of… trick?

All of a sudden, your eyes widen.

Since meeting you, Satoru’s life has become a lot more fun.

He enjoys having you here. He never thought it would make that big of a difference, being able to spend time with a kid his own age. And not just any kid, but someone who’s taught him how to smile, laugh, and appreciate simple moments he used to take for granted before. He’s glad he made the decision to visit you again that fateful day. If he hadn’t done that, every day would still be just as monotonous and boring. Every day would be unbearably predictable.

Satoru can never predict what you’re about to do next. It’s strange, because at first glance, you seem like a simpleton, but you always manage to find new ways to surprise him.

Like right now, for instance.

“[Name],” Satoru calls out. As always, he knows exactly where to find you. He can tell everyone’s cursed energy apart, and although yours is scarce, it easily stands out the most to him. It’s comforting and familiar. He’s fully committed it to memory by now, and if he wanted to, he could write a whole essay describing it.

It doesn’t take long for Satoru to find you. For some reason, you’re standing in place and staring off into the distance with a vacant expression. You’re also holding something in your hand. Is that… a knife?

“[Name],” Satoru repeats. He frowns as he steps closer to you. “What are you doing? What’s the knife for?”

You don’t respond at first, but then you turn towards him, in a rigid, unsettling manner. Your eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them before. Even your lips are slightly parted, as if something has you in awe.

“I understand now,” you mumble breathlessly.

Whatever it is that you understand, Satoru definitely doesn’t. He’s unbelievably confused. And seriously, what’s with the knife? It’s starting to freak him out.

Satoru knits his brows together. “What are you talking about? You’re being weird. Also, put the knife down before you end up hurting yourself.”

“Okay. But first, let me show you something.”

You take a hurried step backwards. Satoru still doesn’t understand what’s going on. You’re never this cryptic. It’s throwing him off, and for some reason, he’s getting a bad feeling about all this.

That bad feeling turns out to be right, because moments later, he watches as you drag the sharp end of the knife across your skin.

“Don’t—!”

Satoru cries out, but it’s already too late. There’s blood everywhere. It’s a deep gash. A serious injury. You’re wincing, looking lightheaded from the pain, as if you’re about to pass out any second. Satoru instinctively knows he has to get help, and yet, he’s too shocked to move. This has never happened before. He’s never watched someone get hurt in front of his eyes—someone he cares deeply about—and been helpless to do anything about it. He’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. A special, chosen existence. But right now, all of that feels pointless, because you’re in pain, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay,” you breathe out. “Just… watch.”

Satoru is about to cry out again, more desperately this time, but suddenly, he sees it.

Your body is… healing?

It’s true. The gash on your arm, the one you just inflicted with the knife, has already fully healed. You pause for a moment, then wipe the blood off your skin, so that he can see more clearly. Sure enough, it’s gone. There’s no trace of the wound that was there a second ago. Almost as if what happened just now was a figment of his imagination.

“Reverse cursed technique,” Satoru mumbles in disbelief. “You… when did you learn how to do this? You never mentioned it before. And I didn’t notice any changes in the flow of your cursed energy, either.”

“I learned it just now.”

“What?”

“A few minutes ago. Before you came to find me. All of a sudden, I just knew how to do it. The knowledge appeared in my mind.”

Satoru frowns. Something isn’t adding up. Converting cursed energy into positive energy is a very complex technique. Few individuals are actually able to pull it off. Even he doesn’t know how to heal himself. But such an ability was able to manifest in you? He supposes it’s not impossible, but given the nature of your cursed energy, and your overall lack of skill… it seems unlikely.

“I wanted to become stronger.” You pause for a moment, then shake your head. “Sorry. I needed to become stronger. So, I did. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but just now, I was able to confirm it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you already suspect it. That I didn’t obtain this ability naturally. I was frustrated that nothing was working, no matter what I did. I just couldn’t seem to improve, regardless of how hard I trained. So, I… took a gamble. I made a Binding Vow.”

Satoru blinks. “A self-imposed vow?”

You nod enthusiastically, but it still doesn’t make any sense. Would someone really gain the ability to use positive energy through a simple vow like that? It’s the first Satoru’s ever heard of it. And since healing is a rare, valuable power, most people would love to get their hands on it. If it was that easy, surely everyone would opt to do it, one way or another.

Once again, Satoru has a bad feeling about this.

“I already knew that by imposing restrictions on yourself, through a Binding Vow, it’s possible to increase your cursed energy and empower your technique,” you say. “I wasn’t sure if it would work for me. Converting cursed energy into positive energy is complicated, after all. I knew I had to make it a pretty serious restriction, in order to have any chance of succeeding. Even then, it still might not have worked.”

You pause yet again, while Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat, and the next second, you’re smiling brightly, like always.

As you utter the most horrifying words Satoru has ever heard.

“In exchange for gaining the ability to use reverse cursed technique, I’m never allowed to use my cursed energy to harm anyone else, whether it’s a human or a cursed spirit. And if by some chance I do… I’ll die. Instantly.”

Satoru’s jaw drops open.

“...what?!”

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satancopilotsmytardis · 3 days

Text

(Getting) Better Together

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Dabi did not know that he was an omega, and he can’t say that he ever really wanted to find out that he was. He just wanted to join the League of Villains and destroy his father. But when the League’s doctor refused to clear him for active duty, he really thought the next step would be getting kicked out. He didn’t think that he would suddenly have the guy who tried to kill him trying to help him through this entire situation.

Contents: ABO, Alpha!Shigaraki, Omega!Dabi, Recovery from malnutrition/starvation, Mating Cycles, Heat/Ruts, Sex Ed, Discussions of past child and spousal abuse, Infertility, Sex Toys, Porn, Loss of Virginity/First Time, Anal Sex, Grinding, Cumming in Pants, Wet and Messy, Praise Kink, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Knots, Dabi has genital piercings, Shigaraki has a massive cock.

Word Count: 19249

Given that the new boss nearly killed him, Dabi really didn't think that the situation with the League of Villains would have anything over the usual jobs that he's done with other crews of criminals. But the next day, when he and Toga come back in after getting the few things they had kept at the safe house Giran had them held up in, Kurogiri informs them that they'll be living on the floor above the bar with Shigaraki. They each get a private, barely furnished room with a lock on the door, and they'll be able to buy whatever they want to decorate their space with the money that they're going to get for being on retainer, training, and running whatever small jobs the League has for them before they debut. They are also informed that there is a grocery list on the refrigerator and that as they need things, they can add it to that. On Wednesdays and Sundays they'll get a delivery of whatever they're missing. He's also not expecting them to be told that the League has a doctor on-call and that they will need to schedule a check-up with him over the course of the next week to ensure that they're healthy and that they have any medicine that they need as they get started in the organization. That's pretty strange.

But nothing is as strange as the doctor coming back into the examination room he's been sitting in for half an hour, and getting a somewhat bewildered look.

"What's up, doc?" He asks, not appreciating that he's somehow managed to be even more of a freak than he already is.

"I have the results from your test."

"What do I have, like seventy incurable diseases or something?" It would be his luck.

"No," but there is definitely something, given the tone. "You reported being a beta?"

"...yeah?"

"I have to inform you that your designation is actually that of an omega." Ujiko tells him, looking him dead in the eye. Dabi stares back.

"What?"

"It appears that you've had extended periods of malnutrition and are severely underweight for your height. Being in such a state, your body seems to have essentially 'turned off' all of the sex traits of your designation, allowing you to pass for a beta. You'll need to have another examination to determine the health of your reproductive system."

Dabi is so stunned that he doesn't even find the words to protest.

///

It's another hour and a half later when he is finished, feeling a little humiliated after the entire thing, though luckily a different doctor, someone else on AFO's payroll who is actually an expert in Omega anatomy took care of that, and they're in the room with he and Ujiko to determine what he needs to do going forward.

"Mr. Dabi--"

"Just 'Dabi'." He says numbly.

"Dabi," they correct, their voice gentle. "I am very sorry to inform you, but it appears that the damage sustained by your body from your burns as well as the extended period of malnutrition and high-stress has... rendered you infertile."

Oh. That's supposed to be a bad thing. Omegas are supposed to be all about having lots of pups. But Dabi feels some relief sweep through him for the first time since he got the news. "Okay, is that why I've never had a heat?"

"In part, maybe. But that is more likely to be related to the weight and malnutrition. We're going to prescribe some shakes that you can drink to help get your daily nutrients more readily, and we recommend you start eating a diet that is rich in fat and protein." The omega doctor gives him a pamphlet that outlines how he should be structuring his meals to ensure that he's putting on weight and Ujiko goes in for the kill,

"Until you gain ten kilos and have your first heat, I am not marking your chart as 'field ready'."

"What? But I've been fine. I can do my job! Just give me suppressants!"

"Not having your heat for so long is not 'fine'," The other doctor tells him, using that infuriatingly gentle tone again. "Extended stress like this can cause a whole host of severe medical issues that can dramatically shorten your lifespan." Like he doesn't already have a short one of those. "Now that you'll be getting the nutrition your body needs as well as having a safe place to sleep, you're going to start off by feeling much, much worse as your hormones begin to equalize." They keep talking for a while, loading Dabi up with about five more pamphlets for him to read and Dabi wonders if the League was really worth all the trouble it's turning out to be.

///

When he gets back to base that night, he goes straight to his room, and spreads out the pamphlets on his bed, trying to read through them all, but feeling like all of the information is just sort of slipping off of his brain from his shock. It takes until there's a soft knock on his door for him to realize that it must have been hours, that he skipped eating, which he's probably going to be in trouble for if AFO doesn't just decide that he's not worth the trouble of keeping around and throw him to the streets again.

He manages to get up and go to the door.

Shigaraki is standing on the other side, and yeah, it must be late, because he's not even wearing the hands anymore. "Here," Dabi looks down at his hands and finds a small box that claims to have a phone in it. "My number and Kurogiri's is already programed in. If you need a teleport, just text him and he'll open a portal."

"Oh. Thanks."

"...The doctor didn't clear you for missions." It's not a question. But the tone of it rings a bell in the back of Dabi's mind that, for as much as they're villains, means that Ujiko didn't tell Shigaraki why he wouldn't clear Dabi. "If you're using anything harder than weed, you shouldn't be here."

"I'm not on drugs." He says a little numbly. "I'm an omega."

He says the words half because he doesn't know if he believes them. Says them out loud himself and makes them horribly, achingly real.

Shigaraki blinks, and then frowns, his hand moving to scratch at his neck as Dabi just holds onto the phone box like somehow that will help him feel grounded from the mess of his emotions surging through him. "...If you're pregnant then this isn't a good place for you either. We're going to start a war, Dabi. This isn't a place to raise a pup if that's what you want." His voice isn't gentle like the other doctor's was. It's clinical. "If you need treatment as you decide what you want to do, we can provide that, but we won't be able to keep you here if you can't be active. I can speak to Giran, he might be able to take you in as a broker-in-training--"

"I'm not pregnant." Dabi tells him. "I didn't know." It sounds so pathetic when he admits it, and he doesn't know why he does. He tried to kill Shigaraki two days ago. He doesn't even like him.

There's another long pause, and then he hears Shigaraki take a slow breath. "Okay. Do you want me to come in?"

Dabi doesn't know what he wants, but he steps aside. Shigaraki closes the door softly behind him and sits on the crate that is serving as his desk, picking up some of the scattered pamphlets from the bed. Dabi manages to make his legs move so he can sit back down.

Shigaraki starts to read him the pamphlets, pausing to make Dabi repeat back the things he's read so he knows that Dabi is starting to pay attention.

///

He's going to be a mess. Once he comes out of the shock of learning his real designation, Dabi finally has that sink in. He is going to have his hormones flooding him all the time and because it's going to be the first time, it's likely that he's going to have such intense emotions that he's going to cry at the drop of a hat or get particularly vicious out of nowhere. He shouldn't be around any other omegas that he doesn't want to form an intense pack bond with, and he should be very, very careful about what alphas he associates with, because he's probably going to go back and forth from wanting to be mated to his brain turning completely off and able to be commanded without even needing a real order. None of the rest of the League are omegas though, so that's something. But Shigaraki, it turns out, is an alpha, along with Muscular, Magne, and Toga, though she's young enough that his body won't register her as a potential mate.

Shigaraki keeps him away from the other alphas, and offers to have Kurogiri be the one who brings their work back and forth if that will make him more comfortable. But Dabi hasn't told any of the others. As far as they know, his scars are the reason that he's not allowed to do field work right now, and he's been avoiding them, hoping they think he's got an infection or something so that they don't ask what's going on. But Shigaraki is the only other person he's told, and he doesn't know if he'll manage to figure out how the fuck to do this on his own if he has to.

Shigaraki, thankfully, doesn't say anything about that yet. They don't know when his first heat is going to hit, but he doesn't ask, or assume that he's going to be allowed to knot him like a toy-- use him the way that Enji used to use his mother. And Dabi keeps his mouth shut. He goes online and reads forums and websites that are dedicated to helping omegas through their cycles and people are constantly arguing back and forth about if a toy or a person is better to get them through their heats faster, but that's not the first thing he has to deal with.

No, the first hard thing that hits him through this transition is trying to eat.

It's so stupid, he has been half-starved and has eaten spoiled food, or even rotten food when things were really bad, so many times in his life, but having to put on the weight he's being asked to is hard. He is supposed to start his day with a nutrient dense protein shake that has a chalky flavor that is absolutely not 'vanilla' no matter what the bottle says it is, and is so thick and rich with fat it coats his tongue like there's a waxy film on it. He fucking hates it, and it's so much liquid that he feels like he's stuffed to the gills before he even starts the day. After the shake, he usually gets an hour or two of studying villain shit, apparently taking on some of Duster's administration work, of which there's a lot, because he can't go into the field. During this time, he's supposed to have another high protein snack, even though he's already full. Then he gets to go work out. Putting on muscle is a good way to get his body up to weight, and he has always liked training, so that isn't a hardship. It's just that afterwards he has to eat a full lunch that is also high in protein. In the afternoon he is supposed to finish anything that he didn't in the morning and have another snack. He usually finishes around mid-afternoon, and then he waits for dinner, alone in his room, makes himself eat again, and has to have one final snack before he gets to go to bed.

His isolation also means that all of these meals are taken in his bedroom, which now has a proper desk, a mini-fridge, microwave, and a hot plate. He can actually cook rudimentary things if he wants to, and he doesn't even have to wash the dishes, he just puts them in a bin that goes outside of his door so that Kurogiri or someone can take them downstairs to the dishwasher. But he can't bring himself to cook. He can't bring himself to do much of anything but the bare minimum, and that's not good enough. When he goes back to the doctor for another checkup, he's only gained .3 kilos at the end of the week which is lower than the average person who is on a refeeding treatment. At this rate it will take him far too long to get to a healthy weight, well after the League is supposed to debut in its new form. It takes about half an hour of him nearly pleading to get the goalpost moved. Seven kilos and one heat, if he can hit that and comes out of it not half-dead or having lost the weight again during the heat, then he'll be cleared for the summer camp job.

It doesn't feel like a victory though when he goes back to his room and has to sit alone inside of it, staring at the fridge full of food he doesn't want to eat and trying to hold back tears as he feels his body betraying him again.

There's a soft knock against the door and Dabi shuts the fridge and calls, "What, Duster?" Because Shigaraki is the only one who ever comes to see him now. He must want the files that he was reviewing. Potential recruits for the summer camp job, that he's not going to be able to go on unless he gets his shit together. There's a slight pause, but Shig opens the door. He's not expecting him to step inside, flinch, and then close the door swiftly behind him.

"Are you okay?"

He's really not expecting it when just that is enough to push him over the edge and have his seams aching as blood beads up under them. He made himself stop crying years ago. He thought that all of his tears got burned off with most of his skin on the mountain. But Shigaraki asks him one question, and he immediately bursts into the closest thing he has to tears.

"Shit, Dabi--" Shigaraki moves into his space, his hands reaching out towards him, and Dabi can't help it, he flinches back, sparks leaping up to his skin to defend himself. He knows that this is pathetic, that this isn't what Shigaraki thought he was signing up for when he brought him to this place. But he can't help it. That doesn't mean he's going to let the other kill him though. Shigaraki immediately takes a step back, holding up his hands, his smell starting to pulse out through the room. It's gentle and comforting, not at all the acrid angry smell that he'd been when he first tried to kill him, and that scent takes all of the fight back out of him as he sobs harder. "Can I touch you? I promise I'll be careful."

It takes him a second. He’s never wanted anyone in his personal space before, but he feels like he needs Shigaraki right now. He manages to cool his skin down, and lets out such a pitiful sound, a watery whine that he's never heard himself make. And then he gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki moves over to him and chuffs comfortingly, reaching with one hand, a finger curled into his palm, to wipe away the blood from his cheeks, and the other wraps around his shoulders as he pulls him into a hug. He keeps him close and it... feels so good for someone to comfort him. No one has done that since Natsuo, and as much as he loves his brother, even in his memories he wasn't great at it. He was young, they were both young. He shouldn't have put that on him.

It takes an age for him to stop crying, and when he does, Shigaraki just gets him to sit down on his bed, and Duster goes over to the bathroom and wets a washcloth before he joins him and starts to wipe the blood off of his cheeks. He does it so softly, but his seams are aching so badly from the wounds being freshly torn open. He waits until Dabi's face is all clean and he's just letting his shame saturate his body before he speaks again.

"Sorry... hormones, I guess."

"You don't have to apologize, Dabi. When your cycle is under control, you'll be back to normal and driving me absolutely insane again." Shigaraki sounds more patient than Dabi would have ever given him credit for before. "Your room reeked of distress before you started crying, do you want to tell me what's wrong? Did something happen during your check-up?"

"... I'm not gaining weight well enough, and I've already been struggling to eat as much as the doctor is telling me to." He admits softly. "This is a waste of time. I'll get my shit and go--"

"I think that's a bit premature, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him. "It's only been a week. If you're having a hard time with the meals, there are other things that we can try. What don't you like about them so far?"

It takes him a minute, but Dabi makes himself talk, and Shigaraki surprises him again by sitting there the entire time and listening.

///

The next morning Shigaraki comes into his room with his groceries on one arm. He splits Dabi's nutrient shake in half and makes him put half of it in a weird cup that he then puts in the freezer, and only has him drink the other as Shigaraki chops up an onion, a red pepper, chilis, and minces some garlic. He puts one of the pans on the little burner and moves to put the vegetables in, but Dabi steps in, not wanting to be completely babied and also--

"You can't cook them without putting something in the pan, they'll stick!"

"It's a non-stick pan."

"It's a shitty non-stick pan that looks like it's been hacked at with a machete for ten years. If you don't put something into it, they'll stick."

"Fine, you can help." He almost sounds smug when he says it, and Dabi wonders what the play is, other than making his room smell like onions. "Put a couple of spoonfuls of the Greek yogurt into a bowl with the garlic and season it with whatever you like on your eggs."

"What the fuck are you making?" Dabi asks, in utter confusion as Shigaraki opens a can of tomatoes which he hasn't ever used in a breakfast dish before, and once the other vegetables are sweating, pours the tomatoes in as well.

"It's a loose take on shakshuka, I used to have it when my teacher and I were in North Africa." He cooks them for a little while as Dabi goes ahead and adds the garlic to the yogurt and digs out a bottle of hot sauce that he got and puts in a couple of splashes of that along with some salt and pepper. When the liquid in the pan has reduced a lot, Shigaraki adds some seasonings to the pan, and then uses the spoon to make two wells in the vegetables, and cracks in two eggs. He covers the pan and takes out a small thing of pita bread.

In a few minutes, once the eggs have set, he takes that pan off the hot plate and puts it on a trivet, so he can warm the bread in a second one. That doesn't take long, and when it's all finished, they sit with the big pan between them, a plate and bread in front of each of them, and Shigaraki puts the yogurt sauce on top. He uses the pita bread to break the yolk of his egg and scoops up some of the mixture. Dabi hesitates, but he's usually not a picky eater, and he has to eat anyway. So he follows his lead.

It's definitely different from anything he's had before, but it doesn't taste bad, and after how miserable his meals have been for the past few weeks, he isn't about to complain. Not really. He is going to badger Duster though. "Needs salt."

"Add salt then."

"Why did you make me breakfast?"

"I made us breakfast," Shigaraki tells him, "That's high in protein, and hopefully tastes better than your shake?"

"...Yeah?"

"Good. Eat." And that's all he says about it.

Dabi decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and they eat the shakshuka as Shigaraki changes the discussion to the files he was working on yesterday. That discussion goes on for so long, that he doesn't notice when they finished off the pan, or when the dishes and trash got cleared away into the bin and bag to be removed, but when they're done, Shigaraki is still talking as he gets out three small containers and a few more pouches from the grocery bags.

He only gets derailed momentarily when Shigaraki asks, "Do you like sweet things, savory things, or salty things?"

"What?"

Shigaraki doesn't repeat the question.

"Uh, I don't love sweets." He says after a second.

Shigaraki puts one of the pouches back in the grocery bag and steers their conversation right back to work. He keeps Dabi talking as he finishes with what he's doing, and when they've pretty fully debriefed, he suggests,

"I'm going to go change, and then we can go to the training room together."

Dabi glances at his phone, surprised that it's already after ten. "Oh, okay. Why are you joining me? I promise I'm not about to have another breakdown." He's not sure if that's true. He might. He doesn't know.

"I need to work on rebuilding muscle too," Shigaraki tells him, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls the fabric up and Dabi sees that the other man is nearly as thin as he is, though he doesn't look hollowed in the sick way that Dabi is now seeing in the shape of his body. But the vivid, angry raised circular scars that dot his side speak to exactly why Shigaraki isn't at his physical peak. He knows from the reports that he also got shot in the leg at UA. "I figured that it would be easier if we did it together. Is that alright?"

He doesn't want to be babied. He doesn't need to be. The hardest things he's ever done, he's done alone. He can get through this too. But there is a little voice in the back of his head that says he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be alone again.

"Okay."

Shigaraki smiles at him, and it's a very tentative thing. It almost looks like it hurts, like he hasn't smiled for any reason in a long, long time, and his face kind of forgot how to do it. Dabi isn't sure he remembers either.

An hour later when they're both catching their breath between sets, Shigaraki pulls the three little containers out of his bag and offers him his choice. One has cheese, nuts, jerky, and a few grapes in it, another has a homemade trail mix with a few different kinds of nuts, some pretzels, and dried fruit, and the last has some slices of celery, a little portable cup of peanut butter, and some raisins. Dabi picks the trail mix, and Shigaraki eats the celery, before they get back to work.

When they go back to base, Shig lists out a few options for lunch and lets Dabi pick one, and they cook it together. He hasn't cooked with someone else since he was a child, and he feels small again cooking next to Shigaraki. But it's different than it was when he was young. He was... always anxious when he cooked back then, always waiting to ruin something and prove to Enji that he was right to cast him aside. With Shigaraki he doesn't have to worry about that, because Duster clearly does not know his way around a kitchen and breakfast was a fluke. But they make lunch. And they make another snack to have between that and dinner, and when dinner rolls around, they have that too. Before Duster leaves for the night, he has Dabi take the shake out of the tiny shitty freezer and Shigaraki makes him shake the cup for a minute, and he hears the stuff inside get thicker and thicker. When he opens it, Duster offers him some different ice cream toppings, from toasted peanuts to strawberry sauce. Dabi doesn't like sweets, but he puts the chocolate sauce and some peanuts on top and eats the second half of the shake like it's ice cream. It's still not great, but it is miles better than it was all the past week, and Dabi tries to remember how to smile too as he thanks him.

///

The rest of the week follows this trend. The day after the first, he and Shigaraki sit down and they plan their meals and snacks for the rest of the week, sending whoever goes out to do the grocery shopping to do that, and then Duster kicks out all of the others so that Dabi can go down to the kitchen. He didn't realize how skittish he would be, but yeah, the thought of being open and exposed is making him want to ignite or pull his skin off. They cook and meal prep for the rest of the week, but by the time they're done, Dabi is letting out the most pathetic sounds that he's never heard from himself before, and he's shaking like a leaf. Shigaraki chuffs at him again and leaves everything downstairs a mess as he ushers him back up to his room, but even that doesn't feel safe anymore.

Shig makes him sit on the edge of his bed and pulls out his phone. A second later he goes to the door and pulls a shipping box through it that's nearly as tall as Toga. Dabi doesn't have his head on straight enough to even manage to ask what the fuck that is, and he doesn't end up needing too as Shigaraki drags it over.

"Okay, here. Why don't you make a nest, Dabi?"

Dabi knows that nesting is a thing that omegas are supposed to do on their heats, and when they're still sharing a bed with their pups. It's supposed to be a comfortable, secure place that helps make them feel safe. It's supposed to be instinctive, but as Shigaraki starts to take out the piles of pillows, blankets, and sheets, he feels lost. Shig waits for him to move and Dabi hunches in on himself,

"I... don't know how." It's supposed to be easy, isn't it? But looking at all of this shit, he can't imagine how he's supposed to make the pile of it more comfortable than just curling up on his little bed and pulling a blanket over his head.

Shigaraki pauses. "Okay. Neither do I." Dabi wonders how he can keep being made to feel even more inadequate than he was before. "But I've made a blanket fort before. Do you want to try that instead?"

"...Okay."

He and Shig move the two chairs that they've been using to work in front of the bed, about a meter from the edge of it and apart from each other. Then Shig looks around until he finds one of the specific packages and has Dabi tear it open and spread it out in the square of space that they've made for themselves. It's a pad of some sort that has been vacuum sealed and compressed in on itself, and when they leave it alone on the floor, it starts to re-inflate, and fill out the space. Shigaraki has him opening the other blankets while he gets the thin into a mattress cover that crinkles, the label from that proclaiming it will fit most nest pads and that it's waterproof so that, Dabi blushes, slick won't leak through and ruin it. They start to put down pillows and blankets together, and there are so many of them. Some say they're very soft, some say they retain smells better than others, some say they're waterproof, and a million other things that Dabi didn't know that omegas would want, or not want in their nests-- and it occurs to him then, that maybe Shigaraki doesn't know either. Maybe he just bought a little of everything hoping that one of them would work for Dabi.

It takes them about half an hour to get all the blankets and pillows settled inside, the nest nearly twice the size as his bed, and at the end, they use the backs of the chairs as posts, holding up two sheets that they secure together with clothes pins over their head that they stretch in a canopy over the nest by tucking one side under the edge of his mattress and draping the rest. It casts the underside in shadow and Shig holds open one of the flaps of the fort. Dabi hesitates, but crawls inside, and watches the flap close. He listens to the other moving around the room for a few minutes and feels... so small as Shigaraki cleans up the mess from all of the packaging. He feels small, but... not bad as he stays in the fort, feeling the heat of his body seeping into the air around him. It's going to get very hot in here if he leaves it like this.

Dabi kneels and reaches for the joint in the sheets, and he unclips a few of the clothes pins in the middle of the sheets, using them to open up a vent that also serves as a skylight, letting in a little more light and allowing the heat to vent a bit more. Then he's left sitting alone and the doubt starts to creep in again.

"Can you either come in or get out? I feel like a dumbass sitting in a pile of blankets with you just staring at it."

"Who said I was staring at you?"

"Are you?"

"...Are you sure you want me to come in?"

Dabi pulls one of the pillows close, making himself as small as he feels. "...Yeah. Not going to jump on your knot. I'm not in heat yet, Duster."

Shigaraki moves around the room again for a second, and then he hears him kneel down. He opens one side of the sheet and hesitates another second before he climbs in with him. They move around a bit, getting to a point where they're both comfortable and Shig gives him his afternoon snack. Dabi isn't expecting for that to make a warm contentedness roll through him and banish away the stress that had come from being downstairs so thoroughly, but as soon as he has his trail mix with three jerky strips, he starts to... purr.

He's never heard that sound out of his throat. He's never even heard an omega do it in person. His mother certainly wasn't purring at all in his memories. But he starts to make that sound. It's awful. It's rough and stuttery, like his body is trying to shake off a decade worth of rust to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to show that he's... happy. He doesn't know if he's been happy since he was five. Shigaraki lets the sound ride, just sitting with him, taking out his phone as Dabi eats his snack and clicking away on some mobile game.

They stay in the nest for the rest of the day. And when Shigaraki leaves for the night and Dabi has to contemplate taking down the sheet so he can get into his bed, he can't bring himself to do it, instead climbing right back into the secure pile of pillows. It's only when the other man is gone, that Dabi realizes the alpha left his scent all in his blankets. That even though Dabi's natural scent is all but gone because of his burns, that Shigaraki's has layered through the space. It's soft and warm, telling Dabi that he was content in this space too... that the alpha was pleased with what they put together, which makes him purr again. And beyond the emotion the can place in the scent, his nest just smells good with Shigaraki's smell like chai tea and the breeze on a stormy day. He didn't used to like the rain. It could fuck with his quirk, it made finding places to sleep absolutely miserable, and it invited sickness into his body.

But it's hard to think of a time he's ever felt safer or more cozy as he curls up with Shigaraki's smell in his nose.

///

Shigaraki makes the doctor move back his appointment for the end of the month, and when he goes back, he's up by two-point-three kilos. He looks like it too, able to see the way his stomach isn't so flat that it's practically concave, and his face doesn't look so sallow anymore, his cheeks rounding out a little again and making him... look a little more like his mom. Fluid retention, the doctor tells him, since he's also been exercising and trying to gain muscle and not just fat, he might lose the water weight again and start to see that weight increase much more gradually. He stops having to drink the nutrient shakes now that his diet is more balanced, as long as he replaces the calories that he loses if he removes that from his diet.

He gets back to base and finds that Shig is restocking his fridge with snacks and bursts into tears again because of his stupid hormones, and from the relief. This is all even more ridiculous given that as soon as he is allowed into the field, he'll be racing towards the confrontation with his father and his inevitable end. But he's realizing now that if he hadn't ended up here, if Shigaraki had kicked him out the second that he found out he was too weak to be useful right now, he probably wouldn't have ever even made it to standing in front of his father, let alone able to fight him. Duster takes his outburst this time with more grace, immediately chuffing at him and pulling him close. He holds onto him for a few minutes as Dabi ruins his shirt, and then he makes Dabi sit so he can lose his jacket and shoes, before he ushers him into their nest. He climbs in too, bringing Dabi's water bottle, and letting him get the stupid amount of bloody tears out of his system.

In about half an hour, once Dabi has stopped crying and he's gotten most of the gross blood off of his face, he manages, with a fair amount of embarrassment, "I'm on track for weight gain again."

But Shigaraki doesn't mock him for having a meltdown over good news. He just smiles, and it looks better than it did at the start of the month because he's been doing it a lot more. "Good. As long as you have your heat, no matter what the doctor says, I'll let you come on the training camp mission if you feel up to it."

Dabi blinks, "What?"

"You're underweight, and you need to keep getting better, but if you want to debut with the others, I'll let you. My leg is still recovering. I won't be able to run when we need to, so my teacher has decided that I have to stay here and monitor your progress over coms. Someone will need to stay out of combat and coordinate movements. You can make sure that no one can get near you, and I can have a nomu keep an eye as well. As long as you don't overdo it, as long as you think that you'll be ready for that, I'll let you go."

He is very, very lucky that he doesn't start crying again. "Thanks, Duster."

"Just keep this up. Go wash your face, I'll get lunch."

Dabi does as he's told, and they resume their schedule for the rest of the day. When they're finished much later with all of their work and have eaten their meals for the day, they tend to stay in the nest for another hour or two, Shig playing his game and Dabi reads, sometimes. Sometimes he just listens to Shigaraki's soft breathing, and soaks in his scent.

He's sleepy and content when he mumbles, "You're a much better alpha than I thought you were when we met."

He's not expecting the long stretch of silence that comes after those words and he wants to take them back. He didn't mean for them to be an insult, but they definitely sound like one in hindsight.

"I don't think I was a very good one when we met." Shigaraki tells him. "My teacher doesn't have a designation because of his quirk. Neither does Kurogiri. I wasn't allowed to socialize with many other people. I don't think I knew how to act before then. But... being around you is helping." He says it like a confession, turning to look at him finally. "I know that you're still the same rude asshole that I hired-- against my will--" Dabi appreciates the jab. It makes the rest of his words feel like they aren't scraping his skin raw. "But beyond that, you're someone I am responsible for. Someone I need to look out for and make sure that you're taken care of. I'm starting to feel the same way about the others. Starting to think about what it would be like to not be alone-- to... have a pack."

Dabi doesn't want to start crying again, so he tries sarcasm to push through the lump in his throat. "If you give me a nomu, I'll tell everyone that you're a perfect alpha."

Shig laughs, a short, soft thing that makes his insides feel warmer. "And what do I have to do to make that something other than lip service?"

"Be perfect."

"I'll do my best."

Dabi isn't sure which one of them moves first, which is probably strange because they move so slowly. But neither of them stop until their lips are pressed together. Dabi doesn't start to panic until the second after they're kissing, as he feels the cracked texture of Shigaraki's lips against his and he has to immediately wonder what his scars feel like under his skin, if this was stupid, if he should pull away quickly and make an excuse about his hormones acting up to get the other to leave him alone and not bring up this again. Then Shigaraki wraps a hand around the back of his neck and tilts his head to the side slightly, changing the angle and making it feel like their mouths were made to press together like this. Dabi's breath is caught in the back of his throat as he realizes that this is the first kiss he's ever had. He's pretty sure he shouldn't be kissing his boss who also tried to kill him once, but it's hard to focus on that when the movement of their lips makes his skin tingle softly.

When they part, Dabi hopes the ache across his seams is still just from him bawling like a baby earlier, and that he's not turning red. But it gets a little more intense when he sees Shigaraki's eyes searching his face, a heaviness there that makes that tingling in him feel even more intense.

He doesn't think he means to say, "Spend my heat with me?" As the first thing out of his mouth when he finds his voice. He doesn't know if it's really a good idea to go from his first kiss to asking for Shigaraki to be his first time when he's going to be out of his mind from his hormones. But Shigaraki doesn't balk at the suggestion, doesn't immediately shoot him down and makes his embarrassment any worse.

"I'll stay with you and help you prepare. Ask me again when it's closer. After you've had a little more time to think about it, okay?" He pairs the words with pulling Dabi close again, his lips falling against the crown of his head this time instead of his own, and Dabi feels so warm, the words not stinging like rejection.

"Okay." His hands curl into fists against the blankets so he resists the urge to tangle his fingers into his shirt and press his nose against his neck so he can drink in the warmth of his smell. Shigaraki stays with him for another hour, and that's enough for now.

///

They don't touch like that again, but Shigaraki does make him sit down with his laptop no matter how loudly Dabi protests as humiliation roars through him, and makes him actually look at heat supplies. Those range from more waterproof blankets and special smoothies like his nutrient ones to make sure that he stays hydrated and keeping his weight where it's supposed to be while he's on his heat, to toys.

"I am not buying a dildo."

"Technically the League of Villains is buying you a dildo." Shigaraki says without blinking. "And you're going to want it if you decide you want to spend your heat alone. Having a knot is going to be the only relief you'll get from everything, trust me. I had to spend a few of my ruts without anything to help and I was miserable and about two seconds away from decaying my own dick." He pauses, "You might also want to get some quirk canceling cuffs if your quirk is going to be so high. I don't want you to set your nest on fire." He just goes on like this is a perfectly normal, and not entirely humiliating thing to be talking about, "The doctor mentioned you might have cramping, didn't he? We should get you a heating pad too."

Dabi throws up his hands and slinks down into the nest. "Fuck it. If you're not going to listen to me, then you can buy the heat supplies! You know more about it than I do!" He grabs one of the blankets, pretends it's not deliberately the one that Shig was laying on last night and burrows underneath it.

"You're acting like a child."

Dabi blows a raspberry at him to prove his point, flicking him off as he does. But Shigaraki closes the laptop and shifts their conversation to the much more comfortable topic of work, and he hopes that means this discussion is over.

///

It's two days later, very deliberately when Shigaraki has his own appointment with the doctor, that Dabi hears the thump of a package being delivered outside of his door. He hesitates before he climbs out of his nest, feeling like even just the distance between his nest and the door is too exposed. Still. It might be groceries, so he has to get out of the nest and he makes himself go over to it, poking his head out and seeing a large box. He pulls it into his room and closes the door swiftly, finding a knife to cut open the tape. He chitters happily when he pulls out another new blanket for his nest, but removing that lets him see some of the other boxes beneath it. On top is a heating pad in a long flat box and beside that is another that happily proclaims that it is an eight inch dildo with an insertable knot in 'glacier blue' that comes with an attachable suction cup or pillow strap base. 100% silicone and body safe.

Dabi lets out a humiliated keen.

///

It takes him about an hour, but he eventually forces himself to take everything out of the box and sees that Shig did get him plenty of the heat smoothies that he loads into the fridge until they're needed, along with some quirk suppression cuffs, and special cleaner for the dildo to get it sanitized and ready for use. He really doesn't want to use that, doesn't want to take the dildo out of the box, but he's so morbidly curious about what a knot even looks like, given he hasn't ever even seen one before, that he can't help opening up the packaging. The garish box makes way for bubble plastic and a silky black bag to put the toy inside after use, and an entire booklet of warning and safety tips. He is genuinely worried he's going to need those quirk cuffs if he keeps getting any more overheated from his embarrassment, but he proceeds anyway and opens up the second layer of packaging and gets his eyes on the toy.

Eight inches is a lot bigger than he thought it was. Dabi lets out another miserable keen. The dildo looks very realistic-- other than the fact it is the neon blue of the packaging, of his quirk, but the head looks like a real cock, and the shaft is detailed with thick winding veins that go down to the last three inches of the toy and then abruptly swells with two bulbous shapes on either side, changing the shape drastically from his own cock and making him a little dizzy. How the fuck is he supposed to get this inside of him? Dabi would have a better chance of shoving an orange up his ass. He is still staring at the thing, completely intimidated, before he hears Duster's soft knock before he lets himself in, the same way he has been for weeks now.

Dabi looks up at him, not knowing at all what his expression might be saying, but at least Shigaraki immediately loses any words as well as he sees the neon toy in his hand as the door shuts softly behind him.

"You're a fucking pervert!" He throws the dildo at the other and then darts down into his nest, grabbing one of the pillows that is saturated with Shigaraki's scent and pulling it close to his chest, like that can comfort him. Duster's smell is comforting, even if he has half a mind to kill him for this humiliation. He doesn't hear the thunk of the toy hitting the other or the floor which means that it's probably dust now if he caught it, and Dabi doesn't know if he's glad to be rid of it, or if he really shouldn't have done that. Shigaraki is trying to help take care of him. He's not supposed to be an ungrateful brat about that.

But Duster moves towards his nest and he sees his shadow as it falls across the front flap of the entryway. "Why are you upset, firefly?" Shig's voice is gentle and patient and the pet name makes Dabi's cheeks feel even warmer.

"I don't want heat toys."

"Can you explain why not?"

It's so hard to try and think straight through the high whine of panic that feels like it's going through his head, but after a minute Dabi forces himself to start talking.

"I don't want to have to use those. I don't want to be helpless for a week, in pain, and vulnerable. I don't want to be out of control again. I-- I don't want to get pregnant, I don't want to be claimed, I don't want someone to hurt me like-- like my mom." He can taste smoke on the back of his tongue, hates how weak he already sounds, "I don't want to be an omega."

Shigaraki is quiet for a long moment as he processes Dabi's latest fucking breakdown, but when he does start to speak, he lets out a soft sigh first. "Dabi, you know that you can't change that."

"Fuck you." He also knows he's being over-emotional, but he doesn't actually want to hear that right now.

"You can't, firefly. This is something you're going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. But you won't be in pain forever," he keeps his tone low, though that doesn't impart as much gentleness as Dabi might have expected. "It will only be as your glands wake up for the first time. You won't be helpless. The cuffs I got you can be taken off whenever you want to, and they can't be locked. If anyone tries to hurt you, no matter how deeply you're in your heat, you'll be able to set them on fire, Dabi. Your heat is going to make you extremely, extremely horny, but it's not like what people say about being 'out of control'." Shig promises. "You won't completely forget where you are or get so mentally fatigued you lose your sense of self-- not unless you're completely dehydrated, and that's not going to happen because you're going to have your full fridge of smoothies to drink while you're in heat. The doctor told you that you can't get pregnant, and if you're still scared about it, a silicone toy won't be able to do that for you anyway, Dabi."

There's a small pause and then he goes on, "I don't know what happened with your mother," and if there is a verbal signpost for 'and I don't want to touch that with a ten foot pole', Shigaraki is waving it, "But as long as you're here, you are not going to be claimed by anyone unless you change your mind and decide you want that. You're going to have your heat in here, in your nice, safe room, with the locks on your door, and everything you need so that you don't have to worry about anything but making yourself feel good. By the time you're finished, you're going to feel so good, and I'm going to let you use Kurogiri as your personal errand boy and let you send him off to get you anything you want as you recover. You won't have to see anyone until you're ready to be a pain in everyone else's ass again-- and especially mine."

Dabi doesn't say anything for a long moment after he stops speaking, but when he does, he's still got his face half-buried in the pillow. "You're a bastard."

"Why?"

"You just called me irrational for like five minutes straight instead of being even vaguely sympathetic, and you completely shot me down while doing it like I wouldn't notice."

Shigaraki snorts and seems to think his petulance means that he's not likely to get kicked out again, and he pulls half of the sheet aside so that he can start to crawl into the nest to join him. "I can be sympathetic if you want me to be, but you know you're being irrational." Dabi's face goes hot again when he sees that Shig is holding the dildo. "I wasn't shooting you down, firefly. I'll stay and help if you want me to, but I want you to have explored all of your options first. I don't want you to ask me and regret it." He didn't dust it by accident, and as he crawls up to him, Dabi hides his face in the pillow to block him and it from his sight.

"And you bought me a dildo that I won't ever be able to use!" He hears the toy thump into the blankets and Shig chuckles softly before he's carefully catching Dabi's wrists. He pulls a bit, but Dabi holds the pillow tighter. He'll smother himself with it if it means that he won't have to look at him right now.

When he won't let up with the pillow, Shig gives up on it, and just presses a kiss to the top of his head instead. "Why not, Dabi? Even if we do spend your heat together, if my rut doesn't trigger during it, you'll still need something inside when I can't give it to you."

Dabi didn't really think of that, but he isn't about to say that. Besides, it doesn't address his biggest gripe about the toy, namely, "It's huge! Knot aside, eight inches of anything is not going inside of me!"

He's not expecting for his outburst to be met with a sudden shift in Shigaraki's scent. Something that he's never smelled off of the other man before and that surprises him so much that he immediately forgets his stubbornness and looks up to see Shigaraki's face. His eyes are a little wide, his mouth parted in slight surprise, and embarrassment is spilling from his pores.

Dabi's brain comes to a screeching stop and neither of them say anything for a handful of agonizing seconds.

"Wh-- D-Did you get that because--?" Dabi's eyes flick down, but at this angle, he can't really get his eyes on Duster's crotch. "No. No. You wear skinny jeans all the time. You couldn't possibly--"

"I thought," And Duster's voice is a little higher, a little more breathless, "that would be a good warm-up. But we can get you something smaller if you'd prefer."

"'Warm-up'?!"

///

It is devastating in such a particular way to learn that Shigaraki apparently has a monster cock that Dabi is going to have such a hard time of dealing with that the other man thought he would need something to practice on even when his body was going to be absolutely gushing for it, but they don't actually linger on it for too much longer that night. They eat, and they talk about other distracting things, and pretend that they aren't both embarrassed about the way they are fumbling towards... sleeping together.

But Shigaraki has decided that embarrassment is the enemy by the next night, rather than the natural next step in this whole situation, and comes to Dabi's room with determination, a bottle of whiskey and a six pack of soju, and his laptop, not even blinking when he asks, "How much sex ed have you had?"

Dabi almost immediately overheats from the instantaneous spike of adrenaline.

Shig won't be dissuaded though, and once they've had dinner and are settled into their nest, he queues up the first video that he's downloaded for them to watch.

Dabi isn't expecting the video to be almost presented like a nature documentary, though it's all animations with a soothing female voice narrating. It starts at the very beginning, stating that all humans start as betas in the womb, but that just like their primary sexes, another set of genes gets activated resulting in alphas and omegas, and if those genes aren't activated, then betas are born. Alphas and omegas are both recessive traits that have a complex presentation that crosses over a couple of different gene markers like eye color and hair do, which can result in them being much less common than betas, who don't have any of those genes to turn on or off. That's also why it's so rare for alphas and omegas to be born from two betas having pups unless they have an alpha or omega ancestor.

The video goes on from there, describing that the early markers for their designations are in their DNA from early in their development, but that they can't be judged by anything but medical testing from when they're born until they hit puberty, despite common superstitions. During puberty, the genes turn on again as the pituitary gland activates the pup's primary puberty. When that activates for male alphas, it means they develop their ability to knot, while female alphas will find what appeared to be their clitorus lengthening, which is actually their penis pushing out of their body. Their testes stay internal, which can make it harder for them to produce healthy sperm, but they also should, unless there's a medical problem, have a working uterus as well which allows them two avenues for their fertility. That's interesting, if nothing else, but when the section about omegas starts to play, he does his best to not sit up straighter as he listens.

Female omegas have larger glands along their vagina than a beta or alpha female that help them with the extreme production of slick, as well as a secondary set of muscles inside of their vaginal opening that allow them to 'lock' a knot inside, helping to ensure a higher chance of impregnation within a single mating session. Male omegas don't have a typical vaginal structure, they have something like a cloaca, with the slick glands in their anus along with the additional muscles for locking in a knot. But when those glands start to swell to produce slick, some weird skin flap that the video compares to the thing that closes the esophagus and trachea when eating, closes off the actual rectum, ensuring waste can't be pushed into their vaginal canal when they're being mated.

The video goes on from there, explaining how when an alpha goes into rut, they will grow more sensitive to smells, more restless, and more aggressive with other alphas, or anyone who seems like a threat to the idea of them getting a mate. Omegas, on the other hand, start to have anxiety about their environment, and will instinctively seek out comfort, food, and the companionship of those they trust, to help take care of them when they're in their heat. It's apparently not uncommon for omegas to gather for their heats at times, creating a large group nest if they don't have mates to take care of them, and then spending their cycles together, taking care of one another, male omegas even producing sterile heat fluid instead of semen. A good heat, one where the omega has the supplies they need, if they've been eating, staying healthy, and feel safe, won't be the agony that Dabi has thought of it all of his life. His mom wasn't safe at all, she definitely wasn't healthy when she was so stressed out of her mind he remembers her leaving frost on everything that she touched. She had a bad mate. Her heats saturated their house with the scent of her pain and misery-- though that was under Enji's possessiveness and determination.

The video finishes, and Shig finally cracks open the bottle of whisky, having refused to let him start drinking until he watched the video.

"Questions?" He asks, seeming to still refuse to be bothered as Dabi happily takes the drink and doesn't bother to sip at it and enjoy the flavor, just wanting the burn of something that isn't his blush.

But he doesn't get a refill until he's managed to mumble, "Not really about the... biological stuff. That was... pretty thorough."

"So what about the non-biological stuff?"

Dabi is definitely blushing hot enough that it's probably visible even through his scars. "I don't know. I guess what it's actually like?" When it's not awful, "What's your rut like? Have you been with an omega on it before?" He wouldn't have had the balls to ask that a month ago, but Shigaraki is the one insisting they do this whole song and dance instead of just letting Dabi get overwhelmed when his heat triggers and go from there.

"I am territorial, I get more irritable, the itching under my skin gets," he winces slightly, "really bad until my cycle actually starts. The first few times, I didn't have anyone around, and I didn't have any toys, and I felt like I was going to stroke myself raw. Later on I got a couple of things that made it easier for me to deal with in the periods of time when I wasn't consumed with my lust." He hesitates for a second, "I have had two of my ruts with an omega."

Dabi waits, but more details don't seem to be forthcoming. "C'mon, Duster, you can't leave me hanging. Was omega pussy not all that it was chalked up to be?" Maybe that's why he's being so dodgy about this. Maybe he doesn't want to spend Dabi's heat with him. Maybe he doesn't... want him.

"She was fine. During our cycles, I would say she was exactly what I needed, but I didn't know her very well, and I was glad to be rid of her when our cycles were over. I only shared my cycle with her because I needed to lower the scent of my hormones so that I would be able to make my debut at UA and have the scent patches actually work."

"Oh." Dabi hasn't ever heard of an alpha or beta using scent patches. Normally omega use those so that they can pass as betas, because omegas are still often thought of as nothing more than baby making devices. With the patches, they can pass as betas. "Okay, sorry for pushing, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's fine, Dabi. It's just not something I can give you a lot of details about. Sex, especially on my cycle, is good. I enjoyed it, she seemed to as well, but it really wasn't that different from sex in general, it was just a lot more frequent and longer than usual. Whatever you're used to, it will be like that, just heightened." He hesitates, "You were upset about the dildo," Dabi blushes and pours himself a new glass. "Have you... never tried anal before?"

Dabi is glad he's pouring because it means that he doesn't have to look up when he admits, "Never tried... anything before, Duster. Think my hormones were too fucked up to let me have a sex drive." He's sure he's going to burn his ears the rest of the way off from how hot they are, "Never even touched myself before."

He doesn't know if he was really expecting mockery. Shig has been really, really good about not mocking him about any of his inexperience and not asking about why he's so fucked up. But he doesn’t think he was expecting the other's natural spicy scent to go so much hotter and roll out through the air in their nest and send a different kind of warmth under his skin. Dabi nearly fumbles the bottle as he looks up and finds red eyes boring into him.

It takes him a second to find his tongue and croak out, "Oh my fucking god, you are such a pervert."

Shig has the good grace to look a little chastised, trying to reign in the way Dabi's admission spiked his arousal so completely. "It's just... very flattering that you would ask me to be your first."

"Yeah, super flattering, so flattering that you finally smell excited about getting to stick your enormous dick in my ass. I can't believe that you have a virginity fetish. You're a weird reclusive gamer. You're supposed to be the virgin!" Dabi huffs.

"Is that so?" Duster doesn't bother to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Yes." He refuses to look at him, actually taking his second drink a bit more slowly, trying to pretend he doesn't feel a little dizzy from how good he smelled when he was getting hot, and like that smell isn't sitting in their nest all around them. He doesn't want to embarrass himself anymore.

"Are you just going to pout for the rest of the night, firefly?"

Dabi doesn't answer, obstinance the only path forward for his dignity.

"...Do you want to watch some other... unconventionally educational videos about shared cycles?"

"What the fuck does 'unconventionally educational' mean, Shigaraki?" Dabi asks. The other doesn't offer up an answer immediately and Dabi puts the pieces together, "Porn?! Are you asking me if I want to watch porn with you?"

"You asked me to spend your first heat with you and what it would be like. I'm not saying that all porn is realistic, but porn with actual actors on their cycles is much more realistic than anything else. Because instincts are so high, they can't have a crew on set, they just hunker down, turn on the lights and cameras, and do their thing for their cycles, and then it gets cut down to the hottest parts in the editing room. But that might help you get a better idea of what it looks like from an omega's perspective when it happens."

"You just have an answer for fucking everything, don't you?"

"If I didn't try, you wouldn't want to follow me , would you?"

Dabi wants to light him on fire. But that would mean burning up their nest that is so cozy and smells so good with the lingering threads of Shigaraki's arousal in it. So Dabi drinks his second glass, and then curls up more snuggly in the pillows and blankets. "Fine."

He barely keeps himself from giving Shigaraki so much shit when he doesn't have to go searching up this kind of content, instead just navigating over to his saved files.

///

They watch three videos. The first is with a male alpha and female omega, the second with a female alpha and male omega, and the last with a male alpha and male omega. Each of the videos has a different porn premise attached to it that Dabi is extremely embarrassed over, the first being a repair person who wanders into the house because the omega hit her cycle too fast to cancel, and she all but throws herself at him. She seems to have a very, very good time though. The second is a femdom playing with her sub, with leather, latex, whips, and chains all in play in addition to their cycles. And the final one is about an omega who has gotten in too deep with his loan shark and is offering up his cycle in exchange for a clean slate. Dabi learns two things from these videos: One, Shigaraki is absolutely a massive kinky pervert whose brain is totally rotted from porn because he doesn't even smell hot while they're watching these together. And two, that... it will be different than he thought it would be. Because the actors remember that they're actors even when they're in their cycles. Their movements get a little sloppy, the cameras having a hard time finding good angles sometimes because they forget that they don't have a crew or director to move the cameras, but they never forget the scenario when they're spouting off their dirty talk.

Seeing that he won't be completely gone or catatonic the way his mother had always seemed before she went into rut and after she came out of it, means that watching all of these was worth it in the end. It's a relief that he doesn't really even have words for when they finish. He'll still be him in his heat. Duster will still be himself if he goes on his rut too. They're still not finished with the last video, but Dabi uncurls himself from the nest and reaches for Tomura's sleeve.

Shig blinks, turning to him immediately, "Is it too much, firefly?

He shakes his head weakly, feeling his embarrassment make his temperature rise again. He pulls on his sleeve a little more insistently and Shig gets the picture, turning his body more towards him, and Dabi leans in. Duster wraps his hand around the back of his neck again, touch always so light and careful, and pulls him in for the kiss he wanted.

The kisses they shared before were soft and slow, and this one is definitely both of those things, but it's different this time. Because this time, there is a spark that is coursing beneath it. Something that makes Dabi's skin tingle before he's even started to open his mouth for it. And when Tomura's tongue slips inside, Dabi can't help it. He loses control of his scent the way Shig had earlier, and even though his glands are extremely damaged across his neck and wrists, he's only wearing thin sleep pants, and the faint sugary smell of his arousal starts to fill the space between them. He's about to pull away and make some kind of excuse, he doesn't even know why he would do that when they are... something. Definitely having serious conversations about fucking as soon as his heat hits at the very least. Being aroused with him shouldn't embarrass him, and when Tomura's scent starts to get hotter in response, Dabi's relief is immeasurable.

Tomura knows what he's doing, so he takes charge of the kiss as the sound of the couple fucking spills through the speakers. He licks inside of Dabi's mouth and shows him how that can feel good. He encourages him to tilt his head, to move his lips, to use his own tongue, nervous as he tries to mimic the movements. He doesn't know if he's doing well or if his inexperience is what's making this hotter for Tomura, but he stays smelling warm with his arousal as he kisses Dabi again and again until it's Dabi pulling back with a soft gasp before his teeth are clenching down to keep any other sound out of his mouth.

There's a deep, unfamiliar ache that is starting in his pelvis and it sours his scent with pain.

Shig pauses and looks at him, confused. "Are you alright, baby?"

"I-- I think," he swallows his pride. They were barely making out. "I think my glands are trying to work."

Tomura blinks, and then his whole expression brightens. "That's good, firefly."

"Tell that to my fucking nerve endings."

Tomura has the gall to laugh, but then he moves to press another kiss to his forehead and pause the video. "I'll get you some pain medicine and your heating pad. If it goes away, then you're not in pre-heat yet."

"And if I am?"

"Then I'll stay with you, if that's still what you want, Dabi."

He makes himself meet his eyes. "Okay." It's easier to say that than so bluntly admit to him that's all that he wants. Shigaraki has been with him through every step of him trying to get healthy. He's... the only person Dabi has ever trusted like this. He knows that he'll take care of him and make sure that he feels good. He believes him when he says that he'll be a perfect alpha for him just to prove that he's worthy of everything Dabi has chosen to trust him with.

And he thinks the other knows him well enough to infer all of that from the simple answer. It earns him another kiss against his forehead and then Shig confiscates the alcohol and gets out of their nest. When he comes back, it's with one of his water bottles from the fridge, the heating pad, and some medicine, and he stays with Dabi as the pad heats and medicine kicks in.

The ache goes away after about half an hour, but Shig stays for at least a little longer than that, with Dabi curled up against his side, his arm wrapped around him, and tracing the patterns of his scars over his shoulder. He must stay for a little while because he lingers long enough that Dabi falls asleep and can't remember being moved.

///

Dabi wakes up with sweat soaking his skin, and the pain from the night before so, so much more intense than it was then. Intense enough that Dabi lets out a pitiful whimper and immediately fumbles to turn on the heating pad again, even though it's already sweltering in the enclosed canopy of their nest. Their nest. His and his alpha's. Dabi whines softly, looking around. Tomura isn't here. He doesn't usually stay the night, he knows that, knows that he always comes to see him early in the morning, but he wants him now.

Okay, well, if he has to wait for him, he can at least fix their nest. Dabi liked being closed inside of the fort, but it's far, far too hot for that now, and the blankets and pillows are a mess. He takes down the overhead sheet, opening up the nest to the cool air of the rest of the room, and then he starts to shift things around. He lays out the waterproof blankets just over the round futon that makes up the base of the nest, to keep it clean, and then he starts to push the pillows around, building up an edge around each part of the bed until there is a rim around the entire thing that makes it feel secure. Dabi feels a tickle in his throat and tries to cough it away, but it persists, and as he lets out the next slow breath, his whole chest starts to hum softly. It takes him a second to realize that despite the discomfort in his pelvis, he's purring as he puts all of the super soft downy blankets Tomura got for him back into the nest. The blankets smell like them too, and as much as Dabi just wants to curl up in the mound with his face in those, he knows that he has to keep being good if he wants to retain permission to go out on the League's debut.

So Dabi crawls over to the minifridge, really not trusting his legs to not shake badly if he were to try and walk there instead. He doesn't feel hungry, he's just hot, hurting, and anxious. Doesn't matter. He has to be good and make sure he eats something. He usually waits to have breakfast with Tomura, but he wants his alpha to make him feel better, and he will always prioritize making sure that his physical needs are met first. So Dabi takes one of the heat smoothies, something that he can have cold, and something he won't have to worry about having to prepare in any way. Tomura got him the fruity kind instead of the artificially sweet ones and Dabi likes it a lot more than his nutrient shakes. He drinks it quickly, liking the way the chill settles in his stomach, and then refilling his water bottle from the little pitcher in the fridge before he gets the pain meds from the night before and crawls back over to his nest. He turns on the heating pad even though he's already a little too warm, and takes the pills. It's with some hesitation, but he digs out the quirk cuffs from the 'heat box' and puts those on, allowing his temperature to lower enough he doesn't think he'll bake himself alive curling up tight in the blankets with the heating pad until Tomura comes in.

He pulls the blanket that the other man had been laying on the night before right up to his nose. His smell is so good. All that hot spice of an alpha, but the calm pulse of rain going over it all. It's so... reassuring. Tomura has made himself kinder, softer, more responsible for him. He's been spending every day with him despite all of his own work just to make sure that he's alright. He's embarrassed him a lot, but all because he wants him to feel better. Because he... believes he's worth the time. He didn't just throw him away when he needed that help to be everything that he thought he would be when he hired him. He cares about him. Dabi doesn't know if he's had someone who has done that since he was a child.

It takes another half an hour before Shig knocks on his door and steps inside, and as soon as he does, Dabi is squirming because the discomfort and anxiety switch abruptly to a sharper pain and an overwhelming pulse of heat that goes through his body and tells him that yeah, this really is happening. It's not just a little pang like the night before. He's going into his heat.

Not even twenty-four hours ago, that prospect terrified him. Now Dabi starts to purr loudly as soon as Tomura takes a step into the room. The pain is more intense, but that's okay because it means his body is doing its best to try and get itself ready to help make both he and his alpha feel good.

"Tomura," he whines, trying to push himself up in the nest, wanting to bring him closer as fast as possible, even if that means trying to put weight on his shaky legs.

"Oh, firefly, don't move--" He throws the lock shut and slips out of his shoes at the door, before crossing the room and immediately kneeling down at the edge of the nest. But he doesn't come into it right away.

"Duster," he sounds more petulant this time, reaching for him again.

"I know," he says placatingly, "but are you sure--"

"Get in here and show me how this is supposed to feel good or I'm going to set you on fire!"

Tomura laughs at him again and reaches into his back pocket, taking out a set of leather gloves with the index finger cut out of them, and slips those on before he climbs into the nest with him. "Okay, baby boy, don't be cranky." He pulses out the smell of his contentment, and Dabi whimpers as that pain gets a little bit sharper and makes him squirm as his legs press together instinctively. That hurts, but the rest of his body is starting to feel tingly, and the smell of Tomura's happiness makes him a little light-headed. He wants his alpha happy. It means that he did a good job remaking their nest. And Tomura doesn't just stop by reassuring him with his scent, he also gathers Dabi close and nuzzles along his shoulder, dragging his nose up the side of Dabi's neck as he holds him, and murmurs, "You did such a good job getting everything ready, Dabi. I promise I'm going to take care of you just as well." He rubs his scent into Dabi's skin and all of the sudden that pain inside of him snaps.

Dabi lets out an animal keen that he didn't even know he could make as the pain disappears and instead his system is absolutely flooded with the arousal that he thought he should be expecting as an omega in heat. He feels his slick pulse hot down his legs and soak through his pajama bottoms immediately as his cock hardens to the point of aching in a matter of seconds. Holy fucking shit. Dabi doesn't think he's ever felt arousal like this-- no, he's positive that he hasn't. That this is the most intense form of need that has ever been pushed through his body. That he wants to be touched right now, more than he'd even wanted to stop burning in the moments before he'd died. Dabi tangles his hands in Shig's hair, feeling how soft and thick it is, and pulls his face up from his neck so that he can crash their mouths together.

Tomura's scent is going thicker in the air, even as he lets out another breath of laughter against his lips, which is why Dabi doesn't bite him hard enough to draw blood as he tries to get his tongue into his mouth the way it was last night. His alpha chuffs at him softly, and his hands, made gentle to protect him, are wrapped around his body, pulling him closer even though Dabi is making such a gross mess as the slick smears all over his skin. Dabi saw how much those other omega's could produce, he knew that people called omega's on their heats a 'slip 'n slide', but he had still half thought that it was a figure of speech. He understands just how sincere those things were now as he feels his pajama bottoms clinging to his legs as every drag of Tomura's tongue behind his teeth has a fresh bit of his slick leaking out of his hole with no signs of stopping. Dabi is pretty sure he won't stop until Tomura has his knot sunk deep inside of him and he's full of his cum.

He doesn't think that last night he was thinking about how good his alpha tastes, but underneath the flavor of his toothpaste, he can find traces of his scent lingering on his tongue, and Dabi would give up breathing entirely if he could just keep licking out that flavor from his mouth. Dabi lets out a moan loudly enough he's a little worried about how thick the walls are as Tomura makes him part, but consoles him by licking across the seam of his chin and nipping at his jawline like his scars aren't even there. Dabi is pretty sure he should be bitching at the other for being gross, but instead the thought of being tasted, of being claimed by the alpha is making him even harder. It's a surprise to him when he realizes that his legs aren't clenched tight together anymore to try to smother the pain of his glands, and instead he's opened them up. That he's wrapped them around Tomura's thigh so that he can rub himself against his leg, his cock aching and leaking almost as badly as his hole as he tries his best to get the other to keep making him feel good.

Tomura lets out a growl that he's never heard before, a sound so deep and low that it vibrates through Dabi's body and leaves him gasping out another moan. "That's it, baby boy," his voice rumbles against his skin as he noses at his neck, licking at the place where his scent gland should be burned away and making Dabi moan again. He is pretty sure he didn't want to be claimed, but when Tomura gives a gentle nibble against that place, Dabi gets dizzy from how good that it feels. Shig's hands wrap around his hips and he coaxes Dabi's hips into moving against his leg. "I want you to feel so good, firefly. Show me what you like."

Dabi feels dizzy from how thickly their smells are swirling around the air between them and he's pretty sure that he should just push down his pants so that he can fist his hand around his cock, but he doesn't want to stop clinging to Tomura. Like if he lets go of him, the alpha might abandon him even though he's being swaddled in the reassuring scent of his arousal. But it feels so good to rub himself against Shigaraki's thigh. He's more solidly muscular underneath his jeans, and the thick denim is giving him a tantalizing texture even through his pajama bottoms. He ruts his hips up against his leg again and moans, dropping his head back against the pillows. Tomura chuffs with his approval, leaning over him and grinding his thigh up between Dabi's legs more deliberately, putting more of that wonderful friction against his body.

"That's it, beautiful. You can have anything that you want. Just let me make your body feel good."

He's pretty sure that if he weren't plunging deeper and deeper into his heat, he might have protested. He might have been embarrassed over how much of an absolute mess he already is, but it's hard to care about anything else than how good his body is feeling and how nice it is that his alpha is being so sweet and gentle with him. Tomura presses his neck to Dabi's as he lets him move his hips more and more frantically against his leg. The touch of their skin there bleeds out across their entire nest and somehow sparks pleasure behind his eyes like a firework nearly as bright as the actual friction that he's getting against his dick. The way that their scents tangle makes the whole room smell like completeness. He's not alone. He's not hurting. He's with his alpha, and he's going to be safe, cared for, he's going to get to feel good for the first time in his life, and he doesn't have to be scared. He's not going to be abandoned.

Those thoughts, possibly more than anything else, are what allow Dabi to let go of the last lingering threads of stress in his body and let him sink deeper into the hazy warmth of his heat. He ruts his hips harder and faster, until even just one more little twitch is enough for him to feel his orgasm washing through him for the first time in his life. It isn't like the way that he expected it to be. He thinks that he expected him to feel like he was going to ignite again, and maybe he would have if he didn't have the suppression cuffs tight around his wrists, but instead what he notes is that the pressure growing along his length makes his balls draw up tight to his base like if he were cold, so tense and feeling so full that he's not surprised that he can't keep it all inside. And at the moment of release, his entire cock feels like it's pulsing the sharpest pleasure he's ever felt along each inch of him. It makes the muscles of his thighs shake and fall slack as he feels the forceful ejaculation spill all over the front of his pajama bottoms in ropes that almost ache as he feels each spurt of his cum release from his body. Dabi is breathless from how good it feels, and it takes him a long moment to realize that he's moaning so loudly that his voice cracks as the sound rattles out of his throat.

"Fuck, that's it, Dabi. You're so cute, little omega," his tone is so teasing, but he can't even protest it when being called that has him letting out a little chirpy noise of bliss. He's the omega. He's the one who's being cute. No one has ever called him cute before. No one has ever helped his body feel good like this before. "And you smell so good." Dabi isn't sure that he's been paying attention to anything but how good Tomura smells, but he does try to find his own scent in the tangled mix of them. He normally doesn't think that he smells like anything other than smoke and burning, but now he can smell himself. There is an overwhelming sweetness coming off of his skin, something that reminds him of caramel, though there is still a little tang of burning in it. The edge of his fire that darkens the smell with a touch of his smoke. He doesn't think it smells that good, but he doesn't really like sweets anyway. "Let me get you out of those wet clothes, baby."

Dabi is reluctant for it, only because it means that he, apparently, has to let go of Tomura. But his alpha makes it an easier thing to do by making sure he's laying against the nice warm nest, and presses kisses to his lips and across his face, letting out his own deeper, satisfied purr as he does it. Tomura leans back and pulls away his own shirt, his skin, Dabi notices distantly, starting to get warm for the first time against his own. His body is always so cool to the touch, but he likes this a lot. It makes it feel like he's actually seeping into the other's skin. Then he reaches for Dabi's soaked pajama bottoms and Dabi trembles as he makes his soupy muscles work to lift his hips enough for Tomura to pull the fabric off of his legs.

When he's naked, Dabi is still feeling off-balance, but he tries to push himself up so that he can roll over. Tomura pauses him with his hand against his chest, eyes roaming over Dabi's body like he wants to eat him alive. "Where are you going, firefly? Do you want to stop?"

Dabi whimpers. He doesn't want that at all. Not when his cock is still just as hard as it was before his entire length was dripping with his cum. His insides feel like they're coiling tighter and tighter, desperately searching for a knot to hold on to. "No, alpha," he doesn't think that's what he meant to call Tomura, but the word slips off his tongue before he can stop it. It doesn't seem like it's a bad thing though. The other man gives another one of those low chuffs of approval and Dabi swallows whatever's left of his pride and keeps going. "...I was going to present," he feels his cheeks go a little hotter. "The way all of the omegas in the... videos did."

"Oh, precious," Tomura leans in and nuzzles their noses together before peppering his hot face with kisses. "You don't have to do that unless you want to. I would be perfectly happy for you to stay just like this so that I can see how cute your face is when I have you cumming on my knot."

Dabi lets out a whine that is nothing but humiliation as that has his hole clenching needily and sending a fresh pulse of slick down his thighs. "Need it, Tomura. I-It hurts." He thought he was supposed to stop hurting once he got so hot, but he feels miserable as he waits to get more.

"I'm sorry, firefly, I'll help you feel better." He promises, his eyes dragging down his body. His hands follow the path of his eyes, tracing over his shoulders, down his chest and rubbing his thumbs over his nipples. The feeling of the soft leather against his skin makes him moan again. His nipples are already more sensitive from his piercings, but the way that they feel now is far more sensitive than they ever have been before, and Dabi finds himself moaning and arching into each touch. Tomura starts to let out a continuous, deep purr as he touches him, hands moving away far too soon so that he can bring them down along Dabi's stomach, one dipping between his legs, and one covered finger, and one uncovered, running up his aching cock, and smearing through his cum. "Never been touched before, but you couldn't help decorating your pretty cock just like the rest of you, could you, baby boy?"

Dabi can't form a coherent sentence to answer him, he's too busy spreading his legs even wider and scratching his nails up Shigaraki's back. Tomura wraps his hand around his cock and gives him a stroke from root to tip, his length already so soaked that his glove glides across his skin and sends fresh pleasure going through his body. His hand doesn't stay there either though, and Dabi is about to beg for it back, before he sees that Tomura's eyes are starting to glow from how high his instincts are going. And then his hand is moving down, knuckles rubbing against his balls, and then pushing back--

He can't believe that just having Tomura's fingers rubbing against his hole can feel almost as good as it did to ride his thigh. "Alpha!"

It gets him another growl, Shig's scent going hot and him moving his hand to the back of Dabi's thigh, holding his legs open as wide as they can go, and then grinding his still clothed cock against his hole. Just that pressure there has Dabi mewling, his breath hitching in his throat. "You were so nervous before, little one." Tomura's voice sounds deeper, richer in some way that Dabi doesn't quite understand, but that makes his own instincts feel like they're about to go insane. He wants to have him, wants to have more, but he doesn't know how to get it. "Are you ready to feel what your body was made for now?"

Yes, yes, that's exactly what he wants. "Please, alpha," he pulls at Shig's shoulders, trying to get him to lean in again. He'd give him his mouth, his throat, every inch of his body if he brings him through this the way he promised to.

Tomura kisses him again, but Dabi is sure he's doing it mostly to distract him from immediately protesting when his hips move away from his own again. But the kiss is good, beyond that, because his alpha's fangs have dropped, and Dabi realizes what that rumble in his voice must have been. The edge of command that he was trying to keep at bay as Tomura starts to fall into his rut right alongside Dabi's heat. He can't help but chirping and purring, wrapping his arms around his neck and arching up against his body to show his pleasure as his alpha proves exactly how badly he wants him as his hormones rush to meet Dabi's own.

The other moves over him for a second and then there's the sound of heavier fabric hitting their nest before Tomura is lowering his hips back between Dabi's legs again. His hands curl around his hips and he angles Dabi's body up a bit more so that he can rub the hot head of his cock through his slick and between his cheeks, before teasing against Dabi's hole. Whatever thread of sense was left in him frays apart in his hand at that feeling. Tomura is big. Anything is big against his hole that hasn't ever had something trying to push inside, and he is breathless as the worry that it won't fit comes rushing back. But the wave of lust that follows immediately on its heels drags him under the tide and makes him delirious.

Whatever tangled scent he's putting out, the tiny whimper that slips from his throat, has his alpha chuffing and nuzzling against his cheek. He licks his skin and that helps to soothe his anxiety a bit. "It's alright, firefly, do you want to start slower?" He shifts to get his hand back between them, bringing his fingers against his hole again which is definitely less intimidating, but not at all what his body wants. "Can open you up just like this. Have you bounce on your pretty toy until you're desperate to be full of my cum."

His instincts are screaming against his nerves, telling him that he wants that, not to be stuffed up with some toy. He wants his alpha's knot. He wants Tomura to be the first person he has inside of him. He wants to be good for his alpha and help him through his rut the way he promised he would help Dabi through his heat. The way he's been helping Dabi ever since he got here. It's so hard for him to find his words, but he has to manage it if he wants to do any of that. "Just want you, Tomu." His voice is weak and breathless, the need pulsing under his skin like a second heartbeat.

"Yeah?" There's no mistaking the possessive, pleased rumble in Tomura's voice as he says that. "Okay, baby boy, do you want me to help you relax? It will make it easier." He asks, nosing at his skin and scenting him as many times and ways that he can as he moves so his cock can rub against his hole again. He teases around his rim, both of their skin getting even more soaked as he does so, because Dabi's body is so close to getting what he needs and he can barely string together a coherent thought in his head. He doesn't manage to make a coherent word, just whining high in the back of his throat as he nods his head frantically, holding tight onto the other as he tentatively grinds his hips back so that he can feel him a little more as well. Tomura gives him another slow, deep kiss, and then he breathes, his eyes glowing so bright as they look into his, "Relax."

Dabi's muscles go so weak. He didn't even realize how much he was holding back, but he barely can keep his hands over the other's shoulders, and his legs fall open as wide as they can. There's a fresh gush of slick pouring into their nest as those internal muscles finally loosen from the perpetual tautness that has been plaguing him since he woke up this morning. He lets out a low breath and starts to purrs softly as Tomura starts to press inside.

He is big. He's so big, and his head is blunt, and he surely can't actually be made to fit a knot inside of him the way he saw those other omegas take it. But his body is helpless to try and tense as Tomura rubs against him a few more times, each rock of his hips teasing him with a little more pressure until his hole is being forced wider around him.

The moment that his head presses inside of him with a soft pop, Dabi sees stars. The pressure of having something inside is beyond anything he's ever felt before, and even just his head is so much and his instincts cry out how good it is. He hasn't ever felt this good in his life. Even his first orgasm can't possibly compare to how wonderful he feels having his alpha starting to open up his body and push inside. Tomura chuffs and licks at his neck, telling Dabi without words that he's still so safe, that he's not going anywhere, that he's going to keep giving his body this pleasure that he doesn't have words for. He is going to make him feel better and better, until he can't keep it contained anymore and he falls apart completely, and then Tomura will probably keep giving kisses to all of his scattered parts.

His alpha goes so slowly, pressing in inch by delicious, agonizing inch, and there are so many of those. Dabi didn't get a good look at him, but he would absolutely believe from how blindingly full he's feeling, that he's definitely getting more than eight inches of him. And by the time their hips are flush, they're both panting. Dabi's whole body is shaking, his eyes squeezed tight, some bubble of emotion in his throat that he doesn't have a name for as he's given what he needs. Tomura presses kisses to his face, over his forehead, his eyelids, along his cheeks. He purrs for him in response, and slurs around his own tongue that seems to have gotten heavier with his pleasure and heat,

"Shh, it's alright, firefly. You're okay. You're doing such a good job, baby. You took me all the way inside your very first time. Your body was made for this, precious. You're perfect."

Perfect. Dabi hasn't been perfect for such a long time. He thought he didn't believe in perfect anymore. But when Tomura says it, when he manages to open his eyes and look up at him, seeing his hair wild and mussed from how he's been pulling at it, seeing the flush across his cheeks that has finally brought life into his pale skin, his red eyes that are still glowing so brightly as he looks at him with no hesitation, no doubt, only a naked, searing affection-- Dabi can believe it again. Maybe not about him. But Tomura promised he would try to be a perfect alpha for him. Dabi isn't sure what else he could possibly do to prove he is like this. He doesn't know what the fullness behind his ribs is, but it's almost as distracting as the fullness inside of his hole, and the way that his body chooses to deal with the first is by forcing more bloody tears down his cheeks in a soft sob as he clings to Tomura.

"Alpha," he doesn't have to explain that he's not crying because he's scared, or because he wants to stop. Tomura can feel him, can smell him. He knows what Dabi means and he just starts to purr for him again, even louder, as he licks and kisses the bloody tears off of his cheeks like he doesn't have to be ashamed of his ruined body. He proves to him that he wants him anyway when he rolls his hips into Dabi's, moving his cock inside of him and making every inch of his desperate hole light up with the need to be filled even more.

"Let me love you slowly the first time," Tomura murmurs against his skin. "And then I'll give you anything else you could ever want for the rest of our cycles, firefly."

All Dabi can do is give a weak nod, more tears trickling down his cheeks. He doesn't think he's heard anyone use even the vaguest concept of 'love' when it comes to him in over a decade. He'll take as much of it as he can get from the other man right now though.

Tomura does go slow. He starts just by rolling their hips together in slow, undulating movements, teaching Dabi's body how to move along with them. Each one makes him a little more breathless than the last, the movements warming up his insides, getting them a little more relaxed, and not already clenching onto his cock so tightly when his knot hasn't even started to swell yet. He does it no matter how much he must also be wanting to fuck him hard and knot. He gives it to him gently because he wants Dabi's first heat to be enjoyable more than he wants to make up for the two unremarkable ruts he had before him. But when he's starting to whimper and try to make the soft rhythm a little more impactful, Tomura starts to draw his hips back. He slips a few inches of his cock out of Dabi's body and then rolls his hips again, sinking back inside. And oh! The pressure was good before, the rolling movements were so nice to stretch him open and made his insides feel warm and soft. But the friction of having Tomura's thick cock slide back as deep as it can go, that is delicious. Dabi keens, and the sound hitches on his breath, and then is nothing but a purr as he wraps his legs tight around Tomura's waist so that he can keep having that immediately.

Tomura kisses his skin so gently, kisses his lips, keeps making sounds that tell Dabi how good he's being for him, how good they're making each other feel. But he keeps their pace slow, like he said he would. He doesn't pound into his hole the way they watched the other alphas do to their omegas in the videos. He just gives him his cock slowly and perfectly over and over again until there is nothing but their pleasure cycling between their bodies.

Dabi's second orgasm feels so different from his first as it builds in his body. The health video said that the internal stimulation would pull the attention from his cock, and it absolutely has. He's sure he would be complaining about how long he's been so hard if it weren't for the fact that every measured thrust inside of him is turning every muscle in his body into liquid heat as his pleasure builds under his skin until he's sure that he's going to erupt. But he isn't going over the edge. It's like Tomura is holding a lid over that peak, and he is absolutely helpless not to obey and wait for him as he tries to get more.

He doesn't understand what he was making him to wait for until he starts to feel his hole being forced to stretch a little wider again as he feels his alpha's knot start to swell. "Are you ready, firefly? I want to make you mine so badly. Want to have my spend soaking your insides, want your slick to smell like me for the rest of your cycle. Want to see you crying as you cum on my knot as I push inside." Tomura's voice is so thick with his own arousal, his growls and purrs slurring the words, his fangs glistening, and eyes still ruby red as he speaks.

Dabi doesn't have words for how badly he wants that too, but his body is able to answer for him, a fresh gush of slick going across his thighs to help open him up even more for his alpha's knot, as he feels a pain in his jaw for the first time as his own fangs drop to show his alpha he doesn't just want his knot, but that he would take his bite as well if he deigns to give it to him.

Seeing his teeth like that seems to strip away the last little bit of Tomura's measured control. He can't help the snarl he lets out, the sound demanding, possessive, and good instead of frightening. A sound that tells Dabi that he's so completely and deeply wanted that his alpha would kill anyone who might ever be stupid enough to try to take Dabi away from him. He kisses him hard and their fangs click, and their lips bleed, and that tangle of their blood on their tongues might as well be a drug from how high it sends Dabi into the clouds. He doesn't think that he'll ever have words for how perfect he feels like this. Even more perfect when his alpha builds their pace. Dabi holds onto him tighter, meets each one of his harder thrusts that has their bodies making obscene sounds as they move.

The moment that Tomura's knot forces its way inside of him, swelling completely as he starts to cum, Dabi's nails tear through his back as he arches hard and cums with him. Stars explode through his body, that eruption actually a series of supernovas going through him as his alpha makes him feel so good that Dabi is certain without the cuffs, he would have become a sun from how he feels. His walls clench down so hard on Tomura's length, letting him feel every perfect, pulsing inch of him as he cums so much. Dabi has been soaked practically all morning, but nothing could possibly have prepared him for feeling the way that this does, now that he's being filled with the other's seed instead of just having his slick rush out of him. There's so much of it, it makes him feel blindingly full, and it is so satisfying in a way that his animal mind can't possibly articulate. He just knows that he's supposed to be satisfied. That he's supposed to feel like his purpose has been met and be ready to settle and cuddle for a while until they unlock.

But Dabi wants it even more, and he's barely noticed that he's spilled his own cum between their bodies for a second time before he's starting to roll his hips again. Tomura chuffs at him, the sound absolutely amused. He can't thrust inside of him the way he was before. Not when he's locked inside. But he can do that good rolling thing that they were doing before.

"You want more, precious?"

Dabi manages a nod, and Tomura gets a hand under the small of his back and uses a strength that Dabi didn't know he had to lift him. Tomura lays back in their soiled nest and gets Dabi's knees wide around his hips, pressed into the bedding. "Okay, firefly, find what feels good," he murmurs, his eyes still glowing and his own arousal not fading in the slightest. "If you do a good job, I'll get to fill you up again without even taking my knot out of your pretty hole. Won't that be nice, baby boy? You'll be so full of my cum." He moves his hand to Dabi's lower abdomen, not minding the cum that gets smeared obscenely over his gloves. "Mm, maybe you'll get so full that I'll be able to see it."

That has no right to make him so blindingly needy so immediately on the heels of his last orgasm, but Dabi can't do anything but keen and start to try to work out how much he can actually fuck himself on his alpha's cock before his knot shrinks.

///

The rest of their cycle is a blur for the most part. Dabi just knows that he felt perfect, that Tomura took such good care of him, that he made sure he ate even though all he wanted was to mate and sleep. That he held him close and kissed him. that he never once tried to bite him, no matter the fact that Dabi essentially used his throat as a chew toy after their first round because he wanted Shigaraki to own him so badly. But he didn't let his neediness sway him. He also has the vague memory of being stuffed full of the dildo and his alpha's cock at the same time and how good that felt too, how his alpha called his hole so greedy even though it was his first time, and how that embarrassment had just made everything feel even better. But he doesn't think about that too much when they come out of their cycle.

What he thinks about instead is the fact that Shigaraki doesn't pull away. He helps Dabi clean up his space and remake his bed. He orders them a bunch of food and then they both go into the shower together and wash each other's hair and skin until they're clean. He brings Dabi right back to his now clean bed once they're dry, and then he slowly and meticulously scents every inch of Dabi's skin, and lets him do the same. Then he holds him close and lets him lick and nuzzle at his throat, purring all the while until their food arrives. Tomura makes sure he eats every bite of what he needs to make up for all the activity, and in a day or so, when their hormones have cycled lower, and Dabi admits that he's dreading having the examination that he was told he would have to after his heat, Tomura asks if he wants him to come with him.

He holds his hand the whole time, and gets Dabi bitching and arguing with him over nothing to distract him from how vulnerable he feels laid out on the doctor's table.

///

"That's dumb as shit, Shigaraki." Dabi snaps as they debrief with the others.

"Toga--"

"Already has an assignment. If she can get the blood of as many students as she can, then we'll be in a way better position to infiltrate the school later on, either by using her, or Twice's doubles. Unless your almighty teacher is going to actually disclose who the spy he has in UA actually is?" He challenges. He swears to god that Spinner and Compress have backed off a little from the table, but he doesn't give a shit. If they think that this is going to escalate and want to be pussies about it, then that's on them.

Shig scratches at his neck, his mask on and hiding his expression from Dabi, but he knows that the other man isn't pleased. But he made Dabi the leader for this job. He's going to lead, and he's going to prove that no matter how much time he was absent from the training with the others, that he's not weak. He's back, he's better, he absolutely deserves the position that Shigaraki has given him, and not just because all of them know he's taking his knot as often as he can get it, even with their cycles over. "Fine."

Dabi tries not to be too smug over that and goes right back to laying out where the others will be when they hit the summer camp.

By the time the meeting is done and Dabi has done the requisite socializing with the others, he's more than ready to be back upstairs in their room. Duster still technically has his own room, he still pretends to sleep there when his teacher calls and asks how things are going, but not five minutes after Dabi's inside, the door is opening again for his alpha, who steps inside and immediately pulls the hand from his face. It soothes him immediately to see his face again. He got so used to being able to see him, that whenever they're doing villain shit with the others and he's hiding, Dabi feels an uncomfortable distance between the two of them.

But Tomura looks at him, and he's not frustrated with him snapping or talking back to him during the meeting. He knows exactly what to expect from Dabi at this point. He just looks lightly chastising as he steps into his space and wraps his hands carefully around Dabi's hips. Dabi starts to purr immediately as he leans in to get his kiss, but Tomura doesn't give it. "You skipped your afternoon snack, firefly."

"Moonfish was having one of his, and it put me off my appetite. Figured we could make up for it tonight and order something terrible."

Tomura hums and gives him his peck then. "Yeah? Terrible how?"

"Something super greasy and bad for us so we end up not wanting to move for the rest of the night." So they can curl up in his bed together, cuddled close while Dabi watches Tomura play his games and he gets to feel cherished the way that Tomura hasn't stopped letting him feel since their cycle.

He gets another kiss and a soft purr out of his alpha too. "If you wanted pizza that badly, you didn't have to make an excuse, baby boy. You want potatoes on it?"

"Yeah," he doesn't need to stay in Tomura's space, he barely let him even get into the room, but he likes being close, and his alpha doesn't seem to mind, letting him tuck his head against his shoulder so that he can breathe in his scent like he's been starving for it all day. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, firefly." He presses a kiss to Dabi's temple, and Dabi lets his own purrs start to rumble quietly between them. He knows that. Tomura will do anything for him, and at this point, Dabi is pretty sure that despite all of his good sense, that sentiment goes both ways.

He enjoys this closeness for every second he can get it, only relenting when his stomach growls, and then, as soon as they've actually ordered their food, they're settling into the bed to be close again until it arrives. He thinks that he might not be the only one who was a mess before he got here, but he's just glad that they're both so invested in getting back on the right track. Just glad that he has Tomura with him, because he doesn't think he would be able to enjoy being an omega as much as he does now if he didn't have such a perfect alpha right beside him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/ask!

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction

59 notes · View notes

redrose10 · 2 days

Note

Hey, Could I, please, have a story with picture number 2? It'd be awesome if you could turn it into a time traveller story, but you don't have to. I fully trust your talent and skills.

On the other hand, I think it's awesome how you could turn having very bad anxiety and panic attacks into such a nice short story. I hope you're better now. I don't know if you wrote it for the sake of the story or if it's true for you too, but The Last and Snooze are my two favourite songs from Yoongi :) I really loved that part in the story where you wrote about Yoongi's indigestion problems, it made me laugh.

Take care and get well soon :)

They are great songs that help a lot!

I hope this is okay. It’s kind of time traveler-ish but probably not what you were expecting. It’s spooky season themed too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Here is number 2 from the picture game!

Warnings: mentions of death, very slightly suggestive, angst

Disclaimer: Some things may not be correct for the time period. I tried my best.

“Spells, Potions, and Magic, Solutions for the Everyday Witch”, you rolled your eyes before tossing the heavy ornate book into a box. You always knew that your neighbor Ms. M as she was called was a little on the odd side but when her daughter offered you $200 to clean out her moms home after she passed away, as a broke college student you couldn’t say no.

It was simple. You could keep anything you wanted and everything else got chucked into a large dumpster that was sitting outside. There was also this book that apparently Ms.M had insisted you have even though you thought it was a little weird. Other than the book you kept a few pots and pans, a couple vintage sweaters, and what looked like a handmaid quilt. You had a box of stuff you thought that maybe you could sell for a little extra cash too.

You felt bad just throwing away this woman’s entire life like she had never existed but that’s what you were paid to do.

After you were all finished you collected your payment and your items and headed back home to your place.

The box of stuff you were planning to sell consisted of mostly some jewelry, a very old vase, a Chanel purse you were praying was real, and the spell book. You knew the campus bookstore would definitely send some cash or at least store credit your way for that one and you did not want it taking up space in your already cramped home.

After making yourself some dinner your curiosity got the best of you and you started flipping through the pages of the book.

‘How to turn your enemy into a frog. A step by step guide.’, you rolled your eyes because how original?

‘Black cat following you around? Use this spell to reveal their true identity.’, okay maybe the cat is just hungry you laughed.

‘Death by chocolate cake’, you 100% expected to find just a normal recipe for chocolate cake which you did until the very last ingredient said a touch of arsenic and you realized they weren’t kidding about the death part.

Interestingly there was one page in particular that seemed to have been opened to more times than the others.

‘How to bring someone back from the twilight.’, useful I guess if someone accidentally ate your death by chocolate cake you chuckled.

You wondered if maybe Ms.M had spent much of her life trying to bring someone back from the dead, maybe a former lover. She was probably so grief stricken she was desperate and thought something as ridiculous as a spell could work. You felt bad for the woman and whomever it was that she thought she could bring back.

Putting the book aside you started going through some of the jewelry you took to see what was profitable. What looked to be a man’s ring caught your attention first. It was very intricate with a beautiful carving of what you thought was a jaguar. The eyes appeared to be made out of diamonds or so you hoped because that would definitely up the value when you try to sell it.

You went through some of the other jewelry but for some reason that book kept pulling your attention back to it. You went back to the page with the spell about bringing someone back. As you fidgeted with the jaguar ring you began to read,

“When the moon reaches full peak and the skies are clear, read this verse, there is nothing to fear. Lost in the twilight, shall be no more. Once true loves companion, completes the lore.”, what the hell you laughed. You would have thought this was meant as a Halloween book for toddlers or something if it wasn’t for the recipe on how to murder someone with chocolate cake.

Having had enough you decided it was time for bed and you’d deal with the stuff after your classes tomorrow. You kept the ring with you wanting to make sure it was safe and went upstairs to finish your nightly routine.

When you woke up the next morning you stretched feeling a little sore from all the heavy lifting you did the day before. You reached over to turn off your alarm clock when you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you close. It took a second for you to realize what just happened and that someone was currently in your bed with you, but once it hit you, it hit you like a bus.

You jumped out of bed in one quick movement stumbling for your light switch. Once the room was illuminated you got a good look at who was in your bed.

A man, yes a full grown man was peacefully sleeping next to you and at one point had his arm wrapped around you.

You had experienced one night stands before. It wasn’t your favorite thing to do but you had needs too. Never though had you ever had a one night stand that you didn’t remember. And you didn’t even leave your house last night so how did this happen?

What made you even more curious was that this guy didn’t look like the typical guys you were used to seeing around town. His hair was dark black and wavy and long, one side gently tucked behind his ear. His skin care routine must’ve been top notch because he didn’t have a single blemish and judging by how pale he was he either rarely left his house or was strict about sun protection. His clothes are what threw you off the most. Most of the guys you were around wore tshirts, hoodies, jeans, sweats and things like that. Not this guy. He looked like he was straight out of an 1800’s men’s fashion magazine, if that thing existed back then. The worst part was that you caught yourself staring at him a little too long. He was breathtakingly beautiful and you were a little sad that you didn’t remember anything from your time with him because you definitely would’ve liked to.

And then you reminded yourself that he was some guy you didn’t know and you should probably wake him up so he could get the hell out of your house and you could go on with your day.

Gently you poked at his shoulder but with no reaction. So you poked a little harder. This time he swatted at your hand and pouted which only made him look more beautiful.

So then you poked him even harder, “Um excuse me.”

This time he groaned before opening his eyes to look at you. It took a second but then he screamed and jumped out of the bed making you scream and jump back towards the door.

“Who are you?”, he asked groggy and out of breath.

That hurt a little that he didn’t remember you even though you were in the same boat but you’d like to think you were unforgettable so how dare he?

“Y/N, who are you?”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Okay Yoongi well whatever we did last night is over so it’s time for you to get going. I have class to get to.”, you said motioning towards the door.

You must’ve hit snooze instead of off on your alarm because it started making that familiar annoying ringing again.

Yoongi quickly brought his hands to his face to shield himself and he slightly crouched down, “What is that thing? Is it going to explode?”

You looked at him confused. “I wish. It’s just the alarm clock on my phone.”, you said showing him that you were turning it off.

He stood back up and smoothly moved his hair back behind his ear.

“Mmhm, where is the lavatory?”, he asked suddenly.

“I’m sorry what?”

“The lavatory, latrine…the toilet?”

“Ohh down the hall and first door on the left.”, you said pointing. He walked past you with a nod and you heard the door click shut.

“Jeeze, where did I find this guy?”, you asked yourself.

You took the time that he was in the bathroom to get dressed and went downstairs thankful that you had a second bathroom so you could finish getting ready there. Once you were done you went into the kitchen and got your coffee going and poured yourself a bowl of cereal, too tired to really cook anything. You took the book and the rest of the stuff from the night before and tossed it in the box so that it was out of the way.

After a few minutes Yoongi walked into the kitchen. You were kind of annoyed that he didn’t get the hint to leave but you still wanted to be polite because that was who you were, “Would you like some coffee?”

He nodded so you poured him a cup, “I have pumpkin spice or caramel macchiato flavored creamers.”

He looked at you with a straight face, “Pumpkins aren’t spicy.”

“Okay black it is.”, you whispered handing him the mug.

“Would you like some cereal?”, you asked.

Thankfully he shook his head because you had no idea how you would explain why your breakfast cereal had different colored marshmallows in it, something you just knew he would question.

You ate in awkward silence hoping he would eventually just get up and leave after realizing you weren’t interested.

Your phone which had been sitting on the counter charging dinged with a notification making Yoongi flinch back. “Why does that thing keep making noises?”, he asked still shaken.

“Well it’s a phone. That’s what they do.”, you said starting to get annoyed.

“Well back in my day there was only one phone for the whole city and it was attached to a wall at the courthouse and only made one sound.”, he said just as annoyed.

You took another bite of cereal unsure how to answer that but knowing that you needed to get this man out of your house and then reevaluate your life decisions.

“So uh did you need me to call you an Uber or something?”

“Uber?”

“Or Lyft or taxi or give you money for the bus?”, you said running out of options.

“Do you not have a horse and buggy to take me home in?”, he asked as if you were the odd one in this situation.

Slowly you shook your head, “Noooooo I’m sorry my buggy is currently in the shop and my horse is on vacation.”

You realized rather quickly that he did not appreciate the joke.

No longer having an appetite you started to collect your dishes when Yoongi grabbed your hand. He inspected it closely and that’s when you released you were still wearing the ring.

“How did you get that? That’s my ring.”, he asked.

“Umm it was in my neighbors stuff that I helped clear out yesterday.”

“Your neighbor? Where is she? I must see her.”

You were taken back a little by his outburst.

“Well she died about a month ago so I don’t really know how I can do that.”

Yoongi scoffed, “Good, I hope she’s burning in hell where she belongs that evil shrew.”

You raised an eyebrow not having heard anyone use that word outside of movies.

“How did it happen? Was she hung from the gallows? Slowly and painfully from Cholera?”, he asked a little too excited.

“Ummm she was like 100 million years old so I’m guessing that had something to do with it.”

“What year is it?”, he asked suddenly?

“2024”

“About 221.”, he stated matter of factly.

“I’m sorry?”

“She…your neighbor…Lenora…She was born in 1803 so she would be 221 years old.”

“And you know this how?”

“She’s my little sister.”

“Oookkkaayy”, you said, “Why is it always the hottest ones that are the craziest?”

“I am neither hot nor crazy. It’s quite chilly actually.” Yoongi said after overhearing you.

“No hot means like attractive, sexy, good looking.”, you said before feeling your cheeks heat up at the realization. Thankfully it seemed like he didn’t really understand anyways so you moved on.

“Sooo I’m gonna call someone to come give you a ride.”, you said reaching for your phone.

“A ride…with a horse?”

You smiled, “Uh no in a car with flashing lights that plays a song as it’s driving so people know to get out of the way.”

He looked impressed and nodded his head in acceptance.

“There it is!! I knew that evil witch had it this whole time.”, he suddenly gasped making you jump forgetting about the call you were trying to make.

Yoongi reached over taking the spell book that you had thrown in the box.

“I was looking for this. I knew she had it but she refused to give it back. She probably knew I’d become even stronger with it in my possession.”

“Stronger?”

He nodded, “Yes and then I’d become The Supreme.”

“The Supreme?”

He sighed, “The Supreme Witch. We’re witches. Do they teach nothing at school any more?”

“Sorry I haven’t taken Witches 101 yet. I’ll see if they offer it next semester.”

He shook his head, “Don’t bother. I’ll teach you.”

You sighed but took a seat anyways.

“You see every two hundred years a new supreme is appointed to each coven. A selection of witches go through seven different tests to gage their strengths and weaknesses. My sister and I were in the finale up against each other tied three to three. She knew there was no way she could beat me in the finale test on her own. So somehow she disabled my protector spell while I was sleeping and she used a curse to send me to the twilight. I’ve been stuck there ever since…until you got me out somehow. Are you a witch by the way? What family do you belong to?”

You chuckled, “Yeah definitely not a witch. All I did was read something from that book. It was a page that seemed to be used a lot. Maybe your sister was trying to get you back.” He started flipping though the pages of the book when a photo fell out. It was black and white and low quality but you could still make it out. Yoongi stood smiling next to a woman you figured to be his sister and former neighbor. You could definitely see the resemblance of your former elderly neighbor in the young smiling woman’s face. Yoongi looked exactly the same just with a big gummy smile that made your heart race.

He smirked as he looked over the photo, “Doubt it. We’ve always hated each other.”

He read something on the back that you couldn’t see before tucking the photo in the book.

“Can you take me to the city? I need to speak with someone.”, he suddenly asked.

You checked the time and figured since you were already late for class and probably dead for all you knew at this point, you agreed.

“Sure but first we need to get you to change your clothes.”

Yoongi looked offended, “What’s wrong with my clothes? These are very expensive and in high fashion.”

“Maybe in the 1800s but right now you look ridiculous.”, you chuckled.

Thankfully you had a stash of your brothers clothes that he always forgot whenever he visited you and they might just fit your new friend.

When he finally came downstairs your mouth unapologetically dropped open. You thought he looked good before but this was on a whole other level. The jeans fit perfectly. The tshirt a tinsy tiny bit too tight in the arms and chest area but no one would complain. The Jordans that you knew your brother would kill you if he saw you letting anyone else wear looked like they were made just for Yoongi. He had put his hair in a half up half down situation and you were wondering where he got the hair tie from but you didn’t care because you were ready to buy them in bulk for him anyways.

“NOW I look ridiculous. This is how men dress these days?”, he said feeling insecure with you staring at him.

“You know if we stop at the seamstress I’ll have her patch your brothers pants. Poor guy can’t even afford to fix the holes.”, he continued.

“It’s done on purpose. They’re supposed to look like that.”, you laughed

This time it was Yoongi’s mouth that dropped open, “Wait so he actually pays money to buy pants that already have holes in them?”

You nodded and laughed, “Yeah a lot of money too.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

In the car you showed him how to use the seatbelt and once he was comfortable you started the engine.

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

Seven days a week

Every hour, every minute, every second

You know, night after night

I'll be lovin' you right, seven days a week”, blasted through the speakers reminded you that you were definitely not the same person you were last night so you turned the volume way down.

“Ugh what is that racket?”, Yoongi questioned with his hands over his ears.

“That’s Jungkook. He’s like one of the most popular musicians right now.”

“This is considered music now?!”

“Yeah it is.”, you laughed showing him a photo of Jungkook on your phone.

“He’s adorable.”, Yoongi cooed, “And HE’S the one that sings such a stupid song about days of the week?”

“Well the song is not really about days of the week”.

Yoongi stared waiting for you to continue, “It’s about…it’s about sex.”

His eyes went wide. “And they let that be played to the public?”, he hissed almost more embarrassed than you.

“Yeah this song is pretty mild compared to others.”, you chuckled.

You offered to drive in silence but Yoongi insisted on listening to more of this Jungkook fellows music which you happily obliged.

“Where exactly are we headed? I kind of need to know where to drive.”, you asked.

“Well it’s a book store. It’s right next to the horse stable and across from the general store.”

“Okay well uh I’ll start driving and you tell me if anything looks familiar.”

Yoongi was amazed by all of the new technology. Traffic lights, billboards, hundreds of cars passing by.

“Wait wait wait…So we don’t even have to get out of the car? They just hand us the drink through that little window?”, he asked after you had stopped to use a drive thru for a snack.

You smiled as you watched his eyes light up when he sipped on a pumpkin spice latte completely forgetting about his disdain about it earlier.

Eventually you somehow made it to the location he wanted which also happened to be the campus bookstore.

You followed Yoongi inside and watched as he walked right up to Jimin who was standing at the counter.

“Hi Y/N”, he smiled until he noticed Yoongi standing next to you, “Yo-Yoongi?”

“It’s been a while. How is Emmy?”, he asked.

“She’s good. We have two kids now, two little girls.”

Yoongi nodded, “I’m so glad to hear that. I’d love to meet them.”

“You look good.”, Jimin praised him but Yoongi scoffed, “I look absolutely ridiculous.”

“No man this is what the kids these days are wearing. You fit right in.”

You watched on in awe as you found out that the guy who worked at the campus bookstore whom you at one point had a small crush on was apparently a 250 year old witch who was also married to a fairy. And he was now talking to a 250 year old witch who you accidentally brought back from something called the twilight where his sister, your deceased elder neighbor, sent him over a hundred years or so ago. You thought you were going crazier by the minute.

“So do you have it still?”, you heard Yoongi ask Jimin.

“Yeah uh she dropped it off about six weeks ago. She probably knew her time was coming. I thought about throwing it away since I didn’t think there was any chance but I’m glad I saved it since you’re here.”, he said handing over a small envelope to Yoongi.

“Thank you.”, he nodded before turning to leave the store. You said goodbye and followed after him outside.

Once back in your car he stared at the envelope in his hands. His name elaborately written on the front.

You remained silent realizing that he was going through something. It seemed like he was afraid of whatever was in that letter.

Gently he broke open the seal watching as the letter floated up in front of him and unfolded. A voice that you recognized as your neighbors began to speak,

“Hello brother, Good to see that you finally made it out of the twilight. I admit that I only sent you there because I fully believed you would be able to get yourself out of there in no time.

Honestly every-time a black cat crossed my path I thought it was going to be you. I know they were your favorite to shift into. If I had known that I’d never see you again though, I never would’ve done it. I missed you Yoongi. It was hard going through life without you. I hope that you can forgive me and maybe we can see each other again one day.

I left the spell book with my neighbor. Her name is Y/N. I think you’ll like her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and there’s something special about her. I can sense it. I think she could be the one.

Take care Yoongi. Love your little sister and still the better witch, Lenora.”

There was a spark and then then letter burst into a hundred little pieces before disappearing into nothing.

“Ar-Are you okay?”, you asked after noticing he hadn’t moved.

He smiled, “Yeah better than I thought I would be. That’s all I ever wanted from her. An apology and to know she was okay.”

You nodded then began to drive home when he cleared his throat, “Y/N, can I court you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”, you chuckled.

“Can I court you? Like we spend time together and talk and hold hands and then kiss and then eventually we partake in the sexual pleasure of each other?”

You choked on air, “Oh you’re asking me out, like on a date?”

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.”

“Yes I’ll go on a date with you but let’s start with dinner or coffee and then slowly work our way up to sexual pleasures.”, you smiled hoping he couldn’t see you blush.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you did call me hot and I have been told that my tongue can work magic on the body that no spell could ever do but suit yourself. We can stick to pumpkin spice lattes if you’d prefer.”

You awkwardly laughed before deciding to hit the gas pedal just a tiny bit harder.

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