#yeah its a reference to that sharp teeth post i made a few days ago

[alta1312]

thanks for the ideas everyone

[get-shiggy-with-it]

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

[nite-shay]

His Hero Part 4 (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

A/N: I don’t know if I’m completely happy about this chapter. I’m trying to get better with witting panic/anxiety/non-humor, so hopefully, next time, it’ll be a little better. Also, sorry for the long time off and just sporadic posting. Works been hell, but now that we’ll hopefully *grain of salt* were getting more people hired, I’ll have more motivation and time to write 

Warnings: Panic/anxiety , references to sex and/or sexual acts (nothing descriptive but suggestive) so I guess 18+? IDK how this works :/ If yer too young, offended by sex , sexual acts, sexual reference or don’t know where babies come from, please don’t read.

Word count: 3K 

Other then that, please enjoy! :D  

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

*****

Kirishima didn’t protest when Fat sent him home for the day. 

‘Go home. Clear your head. Call me if you need anything.’ 

Honestly, he barely heard his mentor’s words. He just sat there staring at the screen. Watching, pausing, rewinding, and watching again. Over and over again. It wasn’t until Fat picked him up and carried him to the door, did he finally get the memo.

Yeah... he didn’t need to be here right now...

The trip home was nothing but a blur, and honestly, he remembered nothing about it. His body was on autopilot as his mind tried to wrap the possibility that he might have a kid. 

A kid… A son… Your son… His son? But… How? Err… Wait! 

Ok, he knows the ‘how’ of how kids are made. 

Better phrasing, how could this have happened!? He was always careful with anyone he was with! Err, not that was a really long list or anything. Typically, he was only intimate with someone he’s known for a while, and when he was, he’d use a condom, or they were on the pill. 

Oh fuck. How could he have let this happen!?!?

Calm down. Calm down. 

Maybe he was just overthinking everything? It could just be a coincidence. Sure, he and the kid have some similarity, but hey, there’s like, billions of people on the planet! So some are bound to look alike! That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re related, right? Total chance! That’s it! It’s that stuff we learned in school. Static? No, that’s not right; that was in science. The other thing was in math...Statistics! Yeah, that’s it!

So what if the kid has red eyes? His best bud Katsuki does too! 

The sharp teeth? Look no further than his gym bro Tetsu! Hell, depending on the quirk, it can be a super common trait!

The quirk being exactly like his... well, ok, that was… odd. And yeah, he hasn’t run into any with his quirk specifically, but, big but, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there with his quirk! 

Or maybe it’s not his quirk! Maybe its a similar one! Really, really, reeeealllly similar.

Total coincidence! Anyone can have those traits!

He just… happens to have all of them… just like the kid… whose mother he just happened to have slept with… around six years ago… 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. The air got thinner, making it harder for him to breathe. He jumped off the couch and started pacing. He’s had issues with anxiety for years, and one thing he did learn, when he got like this, he needed to move.

Breath and walk. Breath and walk. Breath and….wait! The kid can’t be more than five! He slept with you six years ago! Ha! The time doesn’t match up! So he can’t be his kid!

His legs felt like jello as the waves of panic finally came to a halt, and took a deep, much-needed deep breath.

He wasn’t a father.

This was a good thing. A great thing!

He doesn’t have a kid. The time frame didn’t add up. He was in the clear.

He should feel happy. Relief. Ecstatic!

So why did he feel like he just got punched in the gut? 

He sighed as he made his way to his fridge in search of something to calm his nerves. Beer isn’t his typical drink of choice, but he was glad he kept a few on hand in moments like this. Since he was single and didn’t have a roommate, his place was the place of choice for ‘bro’s night.’ 

Though sometimes, there was nothing like a cold one to just chill after a long hard day.

He grabbed one of the glass bottles by the neck, activated his quirk, and flicked the lid off with his thumb. Cool little party trick he learned a few years back. 

As he tilted the drink back, he took a long hard swallow and let his mind wander. The beer of choice today was one Katsuki preferred. It was good, smooth going down, and less alcohol content. Which was fine. Ochaco, even after giving birth, still couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol. Pregnancy wasn’t a subject Kirishima knew a lot about, but he knew enough to respect it. 

He’d seen her hauling ass many adays to the toilet of the slightest whiff of something she didn’t like.

Then the cravings came along, which prompted a few late-night trips to the store by Katsuki or himself if his bro was at work. 

He chuckled as he thought about the few times Katsuki had said something to piss her off and sent him over to the redhead’s place for the night. Only to call him back a little while later in tears because of mood swings. 

Towards the end was rough, though. She’d been put on bed rest and was in a lot of pain. Katsuki took fewer shifts during that time to stay home and help ease her in any way he could. 

Damn, she went through all that for, what almost a year? Maybe not quite a year, but it had to be close. 

Was it nine or maybe ten months?

His brain came to a screeching halt, mid-swallow as he started calculating.

Beer spewed out of his mouth and nose as he tried to breathe and swallow at the same time. 

The nine months adds almost a year! *Cough* Meaning the kid’s age would make sense! *Cough Cough*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It can’t be true, can it? He… He’d used protection… hadn’t he?

His mind raced as he thought back to that night six years ago.

It was Izuku’s birthday and his girlfriend, future wife Melissa, rented out a small private Terence at a hotel to celebrate. It was small, maybe fifteen people max: just some friends, family, and a few colleges of the green-haired hero.

He was having a few drinks while chatting with Denki and Hanta when he first saw you. That was when he first saw you… You were chatting with your Melissa and Izuku, and damn… he couldn’t stop staring at you. You were so beautiful, and the way you tried to hide your angelic smile every time you laughed made his heart skip a beat. 

Eventually, his two friends figured out just what or who had caught his attention. Which brought on a relentless amount of teasing. It took about twenty minutes, a few beers, and an angry blonde for him to finally make his way over to you.

Katsuki, at some point, approached his childhood friend, then proceeded to yell at him for some reason or another. Even on his birthday, the guy couldn’t catch a break. Now that he thought about it, it was over something All Might related. Something about a suit and which version was from what era? You were looking rather uncomfortable (Melissa was used to this) at the aggressive (mainly Katsuki) debate. That’s where he came in. With the help of Ochaco and Melissa, he finally got the two distracted enough to send them to opposite corners of the party. 

And then, he was left all alone with you.

He was so nervous that he even stumbled through his own name. Luckily, he played off his nervousness by making light of his two friends. To his surprise, you took his jokes in stride and even had a few comebacks of your own. 

The two of you must have talked for over an hour! Just one conversation after another. He’d never met anyone like you before. You were just so loving, kind, and just… wow!

Then things start to get a little fuzzy.

He remembered talking, drinking, joking, more talking, and more drinking. 

A weird memory of a drunk Denki yelling, “I swear to drunk I’m not God!” before face planting into the punch bowl. 

Then while everyone’s attention was on Denki, the two of you snuck away and back to his room. 

A makeout session on the elevator leads to the two of you missing his floor and shocking an elderly housekeeping lady. That was embarrassing but didn’t seem to stop the two of you.

Then things get really, really blurry, but somehow the two of you made it back to his room without any other incidents. 

While the rest of his memories were bits and pieces, but he… did remember the most of the ‘activates,’ and it’d been consensual, and yeah… he’d definitely used protection! That much he remembered!

The next thing he knew, it was the next morning, where he woke up alone, with a hangover, and felt better than he had in awhile. 

Too bad that feeling didn’t get to last. His phone rang not long after he woke up. It’d been work, a villain was causing trouble, and they needed him asap. 

He showered, dressed, grabbed his stuff, and left. 

Then… he’d gotten hurt… bad…

Ended up in the hospital for nearly a week. 

After he got out, he, well, had an interesting voicemail and charge on his credit card.

He blushed hard as he remembered the hotel’s message regarding the ‘damages’ done to the room. In particular, the ones done to the sheets and headboard. They even sent him pictures!

Damn, he couldn’t believe he lost control of his quirk like that. He hadn’t done that since… well, since his ‘first time.’ That was so embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn’t think he’d hurt you in the process. Of all the pictures and list of damages, blood-stained sheets weren’t listed. Maybe that’s why he never worked up the courage to reach out to you. Even if he didn’t hurt you, he might have scared you...

Wait….

He lost control of his quirk.

Oh… OH SHIT! Realization dawned on him.

Even if he had put a condom on, his quirk might have damaged it!

Then that means… there is a chance he's the father of your son!

FFFFFUCCCCKK!!!!

But wait.

If he really was your son… why haven’t you contacted him?

His footsteps slowed until he came to a standstill.

You would have told him if he was, wouldn’t you?

Granted, the two of you never exchanged numbers, and we’ll it’s not like he did much to reach out to you either, but… You would have known he’s friends with Izuku, so you knew a way to contact him. 

Two-way street, buddy. He internally lashed himself.

Between racking his brain and scolding himself, he didn’t hear the knock on his door until the visitor started pounding. 

“Oi! Shifty hair! Answer the damn door!” A loud, brash voice that could only belong to one person yelled through the abused door.

Katsuki? Why was he here?

Kirishima hurried over to the door before the blonde got too impatient and blew it down… again. He took a deep breath and put on his brightest and cheerful grin before opening the door to greet his grumpy best friend. 

“Oh hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” 

“Don’t bro me! Why the hell am I getting called from your boss to check up on you?” He growled.

“Fat called you?” That was a surprise. 

“Yeah, he did. Had to switch my patrol around and everything.” He brushed past the redhead, letting himself in. Kirishima sighed as he shut the door behind them. 

“I’m really sorry about that. Not sure wh-”

“Don’t start that bullshit with me.” Those fierce red eyes locked on to him. “And drop that fake ass smile. Always hated when you did that shit.” He mutters.

Damn, Fat just had to go and call him of all people. 

If it’d been anyone else, anyone at all, he could play this off. A bright grin, crack a joke or two, maybe a few reassuring words, and he could send them on their way. 

But not him.  No, not Katsuki. Most people wouldn’t in a million years think the aggressive blonde could show anything other than anger. And yeah, the guy was rough around the edges, and he wasn’t the best with words. But nonetheless, here he was. 

And sometimes, that’s all that mattered.

Fuck. 

“So why am I here?” Katsuki wasn’t backing down, so Kirishima took a deep breath.

“What did Fat tell you?” While his smile didn’t waver, he felt his stomach belly flop to the floor. 

“Bastard would spill it, just said you’d need me right and to get over here. Now what the fuck is going on?” While he still sounded angry, there was an underline concern in his tone that most people tend to miss. 

Who would have known that would be the thing to make him crack? Well, obviously, Fatgum knew, hence why he sent the blonde over. The great explosive hero was one of the few people that could blow a hole right through his hardened armor. 

Both figuratively and literally.

With tears in his eyes, he dropped his bright grin and let the damn of emotion bust. He explained everything that had happened. The robbery, the hospital, you, your son, the night he first met you, the security footage, everything! Hell, he was sure he went into a little too much detail when he described you and that night.

The blonde just stood there shell shocked as he tried to absorb the word vomit hurled at him. 

“S-so, yeah… I might… have a…” he couldn’t finish. He just let the silence hang between them. 

“You… dumbass.” He sighed quietly, running his hand through his hair before looking him right in the eyes. While his best friend was known far and wide to have a temper, when shit got real, it was eerie how calm and focused he was. “Are you sure he’s your?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean-”

“Have you talked to the mother?”

“N-No!” 

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” He pressed. “Does anyone else think you’re the father?”

“No! Well, Fat might, but that’s cause he was with me when I put the piece together. But I haven’t told or asked anyone else about this. Honestly, other than the mother, I don’t even know who else to go-” The redhead piped up. Something flashed in his friend’s eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he was ready to commit murder. Fuck was he made? He hadn’t come to him about this yet!? Of course, he was! He was finding this out because his boss called him, not because he had called him! Some friend he is... “I was totally going to call you about this! I swear! You’re my best friend. This just happened so suddenly!”

“I know you would, Ei. Chill.” The blonde’s features soften for a second, soothing the redhead some. But he could tell Katsuki was trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m not mad at you but, I’ll ask again. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I only found out about this today, and I haven’t had any contact with (Y/N) since the other day and well at Izuku’s birthday party.”

“Ok. Stay here for a bit. You need to calm down. We need more information first. If he isn’t your kid, you’re losing your shit for nothing. And if he is... well,” He paused, “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” He pushed the hero towards the couch and made him sit down. “I need to make a phone call.” 

Kirishima blinked as his best friend made his way towards his front door. “NOW SIT THERE. SHUT UP AND CALM DOWN!”

*SLAM*

This was a new level of anger for the blonde. He couldn’t stand seeing the redhead like this. He felt even worse, leaving him alone like this. The damn guy lived off socialization with others, so for him to be facing this alone. 

Yeah... it really pissed him off.

The blonde stomped his way back to his apartment, which was just a few doors down. He did need to make a phone call; he hadn’t been lying. But it was a call, that big, dense red rock didn’t need to hear. 

Fuck. He couldn’t believe this. Did shitty hair really have a kid? 

Katsuki made his way inside his home. The home he shared with not only his wife but his newborn daughter. 

Fuck. He has a kid… and he never even knew. 

As he made his way through the foyer and into the living room, something caught his eye. Something black, orange, green, and tiny laid on top of a basket of unfolded laundry. It was the custom design onesie Momo had gotten for their daughter as a baby shower gift. The custom design was made to look like his hero costume. While he scoffed at the thing initially, he made sure that she wore home from the hospital. 

Well, tried. About halfway through the hospital parking lot, she decided now was the best time to need a diaper and outfit change. 

Little brat. He smirked.

If you’d ask him a few years ago what he thought of kids, he would have brushed it off, not really caring about it. His hero career was his focus. He needed no had to be number one. 

But now that he has a little one of his own, he realized there was more to life than being number one. Was he still going to do it? You bet your ass, but now that he has his wife and his child that climb to the top well, he couldn’t dream of making it there without them. 

He couldn’t imagine a world without her. Let alone a world where he didn’t realize she existed.

He whipped out his phone and thumbed through his contacts.

Especially if someone knew about them. 

He took a deep breath and hit send.  

Someone close to not only the kid but himself. 

And still not tell him.

He knows. There’s no way in hell that precipitative little shit doesn’t know!

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“K-Kacchan. This is a surprise. You never call. Is everything-” Katsuki cut him off. 

“We need to talk. Now.” 

****

Links: Part 1,  Part 2 ,  Part 3, Part 4

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01 ,  @simpforeveryone , @remember-happy-things 

[shiftylinguini]

Do you take prompts? If not, have a nice day, but if so, I love your Bound series, and I was wondering if you'd consider a prequel about Remus first realizing that he's both desperate for, and desperately possessive of, Sirius, when they were back in school.

YES, hello, I do, however it goes without saying that it takes me forever to actually post them LOL. Anyway, I wrote this yonks ago and tidied it up this afternoon because I was in a Mood, and here we go. 

Warnings for jealousy, Hogwarts era, casual promiscuity and references to Sirius/OFC, werewolfy imagery, Irish Remus and general angst regarding boys being careless with each others’ feelings. enjoy! lol. 

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

***

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

There's a party in the dungeons; the Slytherins are hosting. "They're twats," James declared before he left their dorms, deliberately dishevelled in his pirate costume, a cutlass dangling from one hand and cider in the other. "But they throw a good piss up."

Peter agreed, predictably affable and struggling into his Peter Pan outfit. Sirius ignored them both, concentrating on doing his eyeliner right. He's a self-declared glam rock icon tonight, black glitter and flares and Marc Bolan curls. His pirate costume (second mate to James's Hook, of course) lay discarded on his bed in favour of something louder, more offensive, more Muggle.

They've all been too polite to ask why. (They all know it's because Regulus might be there).  

The party probably is good. Remus isn't there.

He was there, for an hour or so. Just long  enough for two chipped mugs of butterbeer heavily spiked with cheap whiskey and to see Sirius with his tongue down Margot Holdings' throat, his lipstick smearing crimson onto hers.

Remus begged off then, made his escape after throwing James some crap excuse about how the moon two nights ago was still making him feel woozy. James knew it was bullshit. He said nothing though, and let Remus scarper off like a kicked dog. James is the best of mates that way; he bulldozes through most conversations and into people's lives but he knows when to be quiet, how to keep a secret.

When to let Remus skulk off to their dorm to hide in his bunk and stew about Sirius.

Remus pulls the curtains tight. He kicks his shoes off, but leaves the rest of his costume as it is, pressing his face to the pillow and probably smearing lazy Dracula greasepaint all over it. It was a half-arsed effort, really. Three quarter-arsed, at best; Remus doesn't like dressing up as monsters. (He has enough of a time playing human).

He closes his eyes, then opens them again. He huffs grumpily against the pillow, wriggling to get comfortable and failing. He feels crap. He has no valid excuse for it―not one he's willing to admit to.

James knows about Remus and Sirius, and the bed hopping between them. He has ears, and eyes, and the dorm's not that big. It's not really a secret. The four of them just act like it's one, for everybody's sake.

Whatever it is, it's usually just a mess. And not a particularly monogamous one.

Remus has no reason to be upset about it. He and Sirius aren't an item. They're something, but Sirius isn't breaking any rules by snogging pretty girls under dimmed party lights. It might be nice if he didn't do it in front of Remus, but it also might be nice if he hadn't tried to make Remus a murderer two years ago. There's a lot of ways they could be nicer to each other. In perspective, the kissing doesn't seem that bad.

Remus could do the same, and might, if he trusted himself around anyone other than Sirius. (If there were girls as pretty as Sirius).

Remus doesn't trust himself with people other than Sirius, though. He's bookish and boring and plain and sometimes he daydreams about ripping his classmates apart. He's tall and pleasant and polite, and he's forever five years old, a rag doll in a wolf's jaws in a field in Ireland, changed and scarred. Sirius gets it, even if he can be a prick. He pushes buttons. He lights up the room. He gets under Remus's skin and makes him feel sane at the same time. He's one of the few people Remus trusts himself and the wolf around, even if he doesn't really trust Sirius anymore. Sirius fucked that right up for the both of them. It's confusing, but Remus is smart. He'll figure his way around it.

He devours books instead, pages and scrolls and tomes. He tries to be boring. He tries to be plain. He tries to be someone people like but mostly forget, the nice Irish lad tagging along with loud James and cocky Sirius and sweet Peter. He worries sometimes that he's doing it too well.

He tries not to think of Margot's hands on Sirius's waist, but he falls asleep to fevered images of them just the same.

***

Remus half-wakes to the <i>swish</i> of curtains flinging open. There's a low giggle and then the thump of platform boots hitting the floor.

"Moony." The bed dips. "Moooonyyy."

Remus is half asleep, surfacing from dreams he's already forgetting. He snuffles into his pillow, as if he can bury himself like a mole and back into sleep.

He's almost back asleep when he feels arms wrapping around his chest, Sirius spooning up behind him. He smells like alcohol, the remnants of cologne and clean sweat. He smells like someone else too; Remus shuts that thought down as quickly as he can, but it's too late. That little wolfy part of him that doesn't vanish with the full moon is always attuned to these things, pricking up its ears and growling low and threatening. Remus feels it in his belly. He's wide awake now.

"Sirius," he whispers, low and annoyed. He swallows. "You know this isn't your bed, yeah?" he grumbles.

Sirius laughs. He's drunk, loose and pliant. Remus doesn't know if that means he fucked her. He could tell, if he tried, if he let the wolf sniff her out. He's not going to do that though. He's got to have some self respect.

Sirius snake arms squeeze around him tighter. His knees are tucked up behind Remus's. "I couldn't find you," he slurs. "And then James said you were sad." Sirius exhales on a half yawn.

Remus waits, but Sirius doesn't say more, as if this is enough of an explanation as to why he's crawled into Remus's bed and wrapped around him like a vine.

Honestly, it is. Sirius can be complex, and sometimes he can be impressively simple.

And if Remus keeps his eyes shut, and doesn't look at the time on his watch, then he can pretend it's only been half an hour since he left the party―that Sirius noticed quickly and didn't stay on for hours, 'til dawn was approaching and the morning birds were chirping, didn't finger Margot behind a statue and kiss her neck until he left marks and then saunter back to his other mates, proud and loose-limbed and swigging whiskey before working up a sweat on the makeshift dance floor. That he didn't ask James as an afterthought once he'd had his fun, <i>hey, where did Mooney bugger off to?</i> That he didn't come and hop into Remus's bed as a way to end his night instead of the purpose of it.

It's a night thought. It's horse shit, and Remus knows it, but if he never sees the time then it will never be confirmed. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, if your best mate is a careless prick but you weren't there to see it, then did it really happen?

Behind him, Sirius's breath gusts over the back of his neck, and then again. The rhythm of sleep. His chest rises and falls easily, pressed all up against Remus's back, hips flush against Remus's pyjama-clad thighs. Remus keeps his own breathing shallow, tries not to breathe him in. It makes his head spin a little, not quite enough oxygen getting into his lungs. He's wide awake, and so is the wolf, the scar on his shoulder prickling like pins and needles and his senses tingling too.

His pillow is going to smell like Sirius for days now after this, longer if he hides the case from the elves and doesn't let them wash it. He'll want to roll in it, smell like Sirius, rub his face over the plain cotton and mouth at it until his breath dampens the pillow and Remus can taste it on his tongue. He might let himself do it. He'll hate himself afterwards, but he might let himself all the same.

He blinks, his vision swimming a little from his half-held breath before he gasps down a lungful, and there it is. Sirius all around him, thick in the air. He smells sweet, and sleepy, relaxed and content, and with a bitter pang Remus can smell her too. The wolf inside him can smell her. Remus braces for the comforting lurch of anger, of rage, for gnashing teeth and snarling lips, but it doesn't come.

There's a whine building in his chest instead, something sad and bereft, hurt. It feels like ears pulled back against his head, like a soft muzzle pressed against the cold ground. It sounds like a kicked dog, crawling on its belly back for more anyway.

Remus sniffs, blinking the sting away from his eyes and feeling his lashes come away wet. He curls a fist into his blanket, fingers tense and his breath shaky as he alternates between short sharp breaths and letting himself breath Sirius in, his chest tight from more than Sirius's boa constrictor arms. His eyes droop eventually, his face sore from frowning, but sleep hovers in his periphery like the moon slipping out of view over a highway.

Remus is too smart to fall for Sirius. The wolf isn't.

***

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 10

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Hope y’all are doing well, taking care of yourselves, and continuing to fight the good fight. Here is a post containing links to petitions and donations regarding Yemen. Help out where you can. I love y’all so much. Xx

Harry made sure that Melody slept soundly the next few nights, but she moved as though she were still tired, haunted. He wondered if this was how she’d passed the months without him.

The bruise on her jaw yellowed quickly, but the split in her cheek took longer to begin knitting itself back together. She cleaned it twice a day and Harry dabbed ointment on it before bed. She no longer winced when he came into contact with the swollen skin at its edges.

Melody was staring out her bedroom window on Wednesday morning as she chewed toast, sitting wrapped back up in the sheets. Harry watched her eyes unfocus while he picked at one of Bea’s raspberry muffins—they weren’t half bad.

“Mel, yeh sure yeh’re all right?”

She glanced at him and took another bite of her food before she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out if Vanessa has the morning shift today.”

“Why don’ yeh just ask her?”

“Right.” She reached for her phone and nearly flipped the plate holding the rest of her toast. Harry shook his head.

“Are yeh tired? Did yeh get enough sleep?”

“I slept fine.”

“Then wha’s wrong?”

Melody’s thumbs danced across her phone screen and she threw the device across the bed before shrugging. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mel.” Harry placed the last few bites of his muffin on her plate and ran a hand down her spine. “C’mon now.” He watched as she began peeling apart the wedges of an orange and saw her fingers shake.

“I—” Melody cut herself off and bit into a piece of fruit, biding her time. She tugged restlessly at the edges of orange peel when she’d finished chewing. “I keep having these nightmares. And Colton’s in them.”

“I know, love.” Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to her clothed shoulder. “What happened would give anyone nightmares. We’re okay, though. And—”

“No, it’s not just memories it’s—“ She drew in a long breath to prepare herself. She never talked about her nightmares. Not even with Bea, who had been the one to comfort her when Harry wasn’t here. But if anyone deserved an explanation, it was Harry. “There are two different dreams. The one I’ve been having ever since— Um, for months. It’s partly a memory. I’ve got your head in my lap and you’re bleeding, but I can’t move my hands, and I can’t scream, and the blood just keeps coming—“

“Melody,” Harry interrupted. Her voice was growing thicker, her words slurring together. He felt like there were pieces of him splintering in his chest the longer he listened, the more hysterical she became. “Stop it. Yeh’re freakin’ yourself out.”

She’d never talked to him about the day he was shot. He hadn’t known she’d been so close, had held him, thinking that he was dead or dying. His entire body ached when he thought about holding her like that, feeling helpless, void of hope. His eyes stung, and he hadn’t cried in years. He forced himself to blink away the pain.

“No, I need to tell you,” Melody insisted, choking on a sob. She didn’t pause before trundling on, afraid that she’d begin crying too hard to speak. "You keep bleeding and there’s so much that it starts to flood the room. I feel like I’m going to drown in it. And I still can’t move my hands, and I can’t get up, but somehow I can turn my head and the closet door is cracked open and Colton’s just standing there. Just watching.”

“He was still there?”

“No, not really. Just in the dream. He was gone by the time I found you.”

The space between them grew quiet. Melody’s lips were trembling, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“The other one just started. In that dream, I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re fine. You’re right here and you’re sleeping, but I look up and he’s just standing there again. He’s here. And then I can’t move again. I’m stuck. I just have to lay there until I wake up."

Melody sounded winded, but relieved to have spilled her nightmares. Harry watched her gasp in a steadying breath, swiping the back of her hand over her wet cheeks, and then lift another orange slice to her mouth. He could feel the muscles in her lower back twitching, as if she were winding up for a fight, or remembering the adrenaline that accompanied a good hit.

“He wouldn’ come here, love.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Doubt he’s been within a hundred miles of us since April,” Harry assured her, “and he wouldn’ come back here just to find me. Or to find you. He doesn’ wanna go to prison, Mel, no matter how fucked up he is, and the cops have been looking for him for months. Yeh’re safe, okay? We’re both safe.”

Melody swallowed down her orange and the lump that had risen in her throat. She turned her head away from Harry so that he wouldn’t see the tears continuing to fill her eyes. She’d had enough vulnerability to last a lifetime just within the past few weeks.

“Nothin’s gonna happen to either of us,” Harry whispered, feathering kisses over the bared skin of her neck while he waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he sighed against her hair. “Yeh haven’ been sleepin’? I didn’ think yeh were wakin’ up.”

“I have been sleeping,” Melody assured him, swiping viciously at a fallen tear before she turned to look out the window and let Harry see her face again. “I just feel like my sleep is more exhausting than actually being awake.”

“Maybe we should start druggin’ yeh.”

“Ha ha.”

Harry shifted until he had a clear view of her face, of her puffy eyes and gnawed lip. He tilted his head until he could touch his cheek to his shoulder. “‘M serious. Helped me sleep when I was younger. Could get rid o’ your dreams completely.”

Melody’s frown deepened. She shook her head and scooped up her plate, crawling over Harry’s outstretched legs. “No, I’m fine.”

“Mel, yeh’re tired.”

“I’m fine.”

He watched her shuffle out of the room and scratched at the prickly scruff that was beginning to shadow his jaw. He heard dishes clinking in the kitchen and cupboards being rifled through. Then there was a considerable silence before Melody reentered the room. She avoided his eyes as she chose clothes for the day.

“Hey.”

Melody paused and picked at her lower lip.

“Please, come here,” Harry murmured.

She stepped gingerly across the room until she stood beside the bed, and she looked reminiscent of a child about to be scolded. Harry’s fingers drew her closer by her thighs.

“Love, ‘s ridiculous for yeh to be embarrassed by somethin’ like a nightmare. Yeh think I’ve never had a fuckin’ nightmare?”

“I’m not embarrassed, Harry.”

“Then yeh would’ve told me already.”

She held her breath, formulating words that she didn’t make coherent enough to speak. Harry tugged her down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He thumbed the teeth marks in the corner of her lip and watched her eyes flutter closed.

“When,” he whispered, “did yeh start thinkin’ yeh couldn’ talk to me? Love it when yeh talk to me.” He felt Melody’s shaking fingertips graze his wrist as he kissed her. She drew in a staggered breath when he gave her another quick peck.

“Sorry.”

“Wish yeh were meaner.”

Melody laughed as she opened her eyes. Harry tugged on a lock of her hair and ran his tongue across his lips.

“All right, get dressed. ‘M not waitin’ around all day. Wheel myself all the way to the hospital if I have to.”

Melody sank her thumb into the space Harry’s dimple usually occupied. She leaned forward once more to plant a kiss of her own on his lips, to sigh against his chin.

“I love you,” she whispered. Then she set her feet back on the floor and went to get dressed.

***

“Is this a joke?” Aiden’s brow was furrowed, his hands frozen, outstretched. He was silent for a moment and then he let his arms fall back to his sides. “It’s gotta be a joke.”

“What?” Melody asked.

“What do you mean, what?” Aiden motioned incredulously toward Harry and then crossed his arms. “That.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Melody,” Aiden began, “I have never seen someone improve at this rate. This is how they make it look in movies. It’s not how it actually happens. Not in real life. Coma patients don’t just wake up after months and start walking this fast.”

“Yeah, well, he is an athlete.”

“And hard-headed.”

“Rock hard head, yes.”

Harry shuffled the last couple of steps to the end of the short track and then leaned his bodyweight into one of the sidebars. His nostrils flared with every breath, but his skin seemed to glow, sing. He was proud and Melody could tell. It radiated off of him like steam off of asphalt.

Aiden stepped forward to help Harry sit, but all he did was spin around and start walking back the way he had come. Melody watched his steps, so much more natural than they had been even a month ago. His toes no longer dragged across the floor, his knees bent at more extreme angles, his ankles rarely ever twisted. When he reached the beginning of the walkway, he paused for breath.

“Think you’re about ready for a cane, my man,” Aiden rewarded, stepping in front of him in case he was ready for a break.

“‘M not your man,” Harry corrected, “and yeh can keep your canes far away from me, yeh freak.”

Aiden snorted. Melody had never heard him make that noise before.

“Seriously, Aiden,” Harry continued. “‘M not walkin’ around with a cane. Who am I, Lucius Malfoy?”

Melody’s lips parted at his reference. “Harry Potter?”

“Yeah, yeh made me watch a few of ‘em.” Harry glanced at Melody and then looked quickly away. She seemed stunned. “Tha’s the one, right? Asshole with the elf?”

“Yeah.” Melody’s astonishment was cut short when she felt a sharp poke to her side. “Ow!”

“Oh, don’t be such a wimp. I thought you had to be tough for boxing.”

“Yeah, for boxing,” Melody snapped back, spinning on her heel to face Vanessa. “Not for nurses who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Boohoo.”

The pair grinned peevishly at one another and then Vanessa lifted a finger to examine Melody’s cheek and her smile melted away. “Ouch,” she hissed. “I’d be surprised if that didn’t scar.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Melody bit back. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty. Especially with those designer bags under your eyes. What is going on?”

Melody glanced behind her to be sure Harry wasn’t eavesdropping. He was struggling to hold himself upright while Aiden stretched and rolled his ankles one at a time, and he didn’t seem aware that Vanessa was even in the room. Melody took a deep breath.

“It’s nightmares,” she blurted, spinning back around. “Horrible nightmares. And I wake up and it’s like I’m more tired than when I fell asleep. I’m an absolute mess.”

Vanessa’s lips screwed up into a grimace of pity. Her eyes softened. She glanced over Melody’s shoulder. “He doesn’t know?”

“No, he does. It’s just—he doesn’t know how bad. It’s almost every single time I close my eyes.”

“What brought these on?”

Melody had been trying to discern the answer to that question herself. And she still didn’t know. It wasn’t Harry—she’d slept like a rock for weeks after he’d left the hospital. And she couldn’t remember anything that might have triggered this. But she wanted it to stop.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you tried melatonin?”

Melody let out a quick lungful of air. Vanessa sounded just like Harry.

“No, and I’m not going to.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

Behind her, Melody could hear Harry’s weight settling into his wheelchair, could hear him rolling across the room to work on different exercises. She rubbed at the puffy, raw skin around her eyes.

“What about your art?” Vanessa asked after a brief lull. “Or writing?”

“What about it?”

“Well, do you think getting your nightmares out on paper would help?”

It was a good thought. But Melody hadn’t picked up a paintbrush or a pen in months. She’d barely even cracked open a book outside of the hospital. But if it might help her sleep, she would spill over a thousand pages, a thousand canvases. She would drown her darkest thoughts with ink.

“Maybe,” she said with a confident nod.

***

Melody scratched out an entire line and then clicked the end of her pen. The words felt scrambled in her head. Whether it was because she was tired, or because she hadn’t written in so long, or because she just couldn’t phrase her fears, she was unsure. Two abandoned canvases lay flat on the floor beside her. One was merely a shapeless, flesh-colored blob, the other was indiscernible beneath a splatter if frustrated black paint.

Harry appeared in the doorway, wobbling, trying to support his weight with the new cane he’d been gifted. He clung to the doorframe with his free hand as he examined the room. There seemed to be only one or two paintings that he didn’t recognize displayed on the walls, landscapes and empty rooms in muted blues and grays. The mysterious green eye that he’d seen when he first stepped foot in this apartment still hadn’t been hung up. It was leaned against the far wall where it had been on Melody’s birthday. A thin layer of dust coated her desk now, dulling the wood. The plant which sat on the desk’s shelf looked parched and withered. And Melody’s fingers twitched around her pen, her hair spilled into her face from the loose knot she’d tied it in, and her eyes blinked too slowly, as though each time she closed them they resisted opening.

“Mel,” Harry muttered. He could tell she heard him, but she didn’t turn her head. “Lay down an’ try to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” she protested.

“All the more reason. Maybe yeh’ll sleep better when ‘s light out.”

Melody was silent for a minute. Then she began to click her pen. “It’s too quiet.”

“I’ll turn a movie on. Yeh can sleep on the couch.” Her pen clicked twice more. “C’mon, love. My legs are gettin’ tired.”

Melody slid her things to the back of her desk and climbed out of her chair. Harry began the short trip to the couch, knuckles growing white around his cane. Melody was there to catch him when he stumbled over the edge of the rug.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“It’s fine.” She lowered him onto one of the cushions and sat down beside him as he dropped his cane. “It’s a process, Harry, you can’t be perfect.”

He grunted and she settled her cheek on his shoulder. Harry pressed a gentle kiss to her scalp. “Why don’t yeh lay down, love?” he suggested, plucking the remote from the arm of the sofa and turning on the TV.

Melody slid across the cushions until her head rested in Harry’s lap. She watched the screen change as he flipped through channels until he found a movie that he didn’t recognize. And then she felt his fingertips in her hair, brushing her ear, sliding along her neck. Of all the times Harry had touched her, so gently, so forcefully, so methodically, she had never felt him like this. This touch was thoughtless and casual, almost subconscious, and it made her very skin ache because it felt like an unexplored side of him. He was always so in his own head, sort of confused by the way he wanted to act around her and the way he felt like he should be acting. She could usually see the wheels working in his mind, but he didn’t seem confused now.

“Christ, I can feel your pulse,” he muttered, his fingertips stilling at the side of her throat. “Wha’s wrong?”

Queenie hopped out of thin air, a flurry of snow that sent newfound adrenaline pumping through Harry and Melody. The cat settled into the space between Melody’s knees and the back of the couch. Harry gave her a withering look.

“Nothing,” Melody eventually said, pressing her cheek more firmly into Harry's thigh. Already, she could feel her eyelids growing heavy, curtains prepared to fall. But she didn’t want to miss this moment, this unguarded glimpse of Harry.

“Then go to sleep, love. I’ll stay with yeh.”

Harry watched the movie that was on, though Melody wasn’t sure if he was absorbing any of it. As it was, she couldn’t keep track of the plot or the characters, but she felt Harry’s eyes fall to her every other minute. His hands continued to slip through her hair and tickle at her shoulders. And she didn’t feel herself slipping out of consciousness, she just fell without warning.

Chapter 11

[nachtgraves]

Kuzuhina with 4 and/or 20? (this isn't a weed joke it just ended up that way ok)

as it happens I was high writing about half of this so it works out lmao. thanks for the prompt! I almost made it wholesome and fluffy. and this technically could be a very belated fill for day 2 of @kuzuhina-week-2019

Title: The Quieting Powers of a Kiss // AO3Word Count: 1,335Warnings/Tags: T. Post-canon, depression, ptsd, references to past self-mutilation, mild body horror, hurt/comfortPrompt: kiss on a scar/where it hurts

Fuyuhiko wakes up to a scream scorching his throat. Sharpedged fragments of his nightmare—memories and twisted concoctions of his ownbroken mind he can’t tell apart, doesn’t want to tell apart—leave more scarsthat he doesn’t think will ever fade.

He sits up in his bed, in the Future Foundation facilityturned Remnants of Despair boarding house on the real Jabberwock Island. Hisroom is sparse and dark, only just lit by moonlight through the window.Fuyuhiko sighs and closes his eyes, his eye,because the other he’d—the other one is gone. The scar throbs but Fuyuhikoknows it’s a psychosomatic twinge. Still, he presses the heels of his hands tohis eyes and tries to regulate his breathing, counting through inhales andexhales to keep him from thinking about anything else. Not that it ever really works.

Tonight is one of those many times it isn’t going to work. Hegets out of bed and throws on a jacket just in case the winds are colder thanusual. He needs to go outside, get out of his head because even though they’reexiled to a deserted island and are monsters to the entire world, the outsideis better than anything that goes on in his head when he’s alone in a dark room.

But when Fuyuhiko opens his door someone’s standing on theother side.

“Kuzuryuu-kun,” Hinata says, surprised even though this isFuyuhiko’s room. He’s got one hand raised as if to knock, but he lowers it assurprise melts off his face and is replaced by concern reflecting from his dualcolored eyes. Fuyuhiko latches onto the green one, the one he grew familiarwith in that program, that he could look into when he was scared and worriedand spiraling out of control, and yet, still trust.

But he’s not the same Hinata from the program. None of themare. Fuyuhiko’s still not sure if who they were in the program was even real.He wants it to be true but their actions in the real world have more physicalreminders and lasting effects.

“Hinata.” Fuyuhiko steps back, letting Hinata in. Hinataflicks on the light as the door shuts behind him. “Did you need something?”

“No.” He pauses. “Do you?”

“Why would I?” Fuyuhiko crosses his arms over his chest,stands a little taller, not that it does much.

“I heard you,” Hinata says, almost apologetically. “I wasgoing to get some fresh air and I passed by your room when… Wanted to checkthat everything was alright.”

Shame colors Fuyuhiko’s cheeks. He is—was—the Ultimate Yakuza, heir to the Kuzuryuu clan yet he’sscreaming through walls from stupid dreams and the guy who had been experimentedon and used and locked away was checking up on him like he’s a child.

He looks away. Away from Hinata and his green and red eyesthat see too closely, understand too much. “Just a dumb nightmare.”

His missing eye itches, the scar throbs. Fuyuhiko holds backfrom rubbing it, doesn’t want to draw attention to it, but Hinata notices.

“What’s wrong?”

Since he’s been caught, Fuyuhiko rubs his eye and thephantom pain ebbs, the itch appeased for now. “My eye hurts, it’s nothing.”

Hinata frowns. “It sh—”

“Shouldn’t,” Fuyuhiko says with him. “It’s a phantom pain.It happens. Sometimes it feels like there’s something in it and I’ll go to rubit or try and blink but then, oh wait.” The smile that forms on his face isn’ta nice one, most would find some way to leave.

But Hinata, the idiot, is there, worrying and understandingand Fuyuhiko doesn’t know which is worse. He wants to feel something other thanguilt and the echoes of despair. He doesn’t even want to think about hope.

Hinata’s rambling something about going to the infirmary, wakingTsumiki even though Hinata has the knowledge of Kamakura somewhere in hisstupid ahoge. Hinata had been Fuyuhiko’s eye surgeon when they woke up, beforehe went on to create the World Destroyer and wake everyone else up.

“Hinata, shut up.”

“If there’s something wrong—I’m not an actual doctor! Idon’t know how much of-of-him isreliable. Why haven’t you mentioned any pain? What if it isn’t just phantompains? Kuzuryuu-kun, you need to—”

“I need you to shutup,” Fuyuhiko interrupts. He reachesout and grabs onto Hinata’s shirt, a good fistful of cotton and drags him down.Fuyuhiko meets Hinata’s rebuttals and concern and words he doesn’t want to hearwith lips and teeth and force.

He’s not sure what he had intended but there were few waysto make someone shut up and Fuyuhiko is tired of fighting and pain. He’s hadmore than enough of that. He just wants to stop thinking.

But now his mouth is on Hinata’s, and Hinata is finallyquiet, but he’s not moving away. Fuyuhiko closes his eye at Hinata’s widenedones, closes it against the surprise and shock and confusion battling fordominance. He’s had thoughts. Thoughts of what it’d be like to be with Hinatabut there’s never been an appropriate time, appropriate situation orcircumstance. What idiot thinks about kissing another boy when they’re in themiddle of a killing game? When they’re coming to terms with their actions, withlong overdue grief and guilt and despair? When they’re saving the world andtaking the blame for its near end?

When Fuyuhiko pulls away, Hinata is staring in wonder andFuyuhiko’s having trouble keeping his gaze. “I told you to shut up.”

Hinata laughs, delayed, “That’s, yeah, you did.” But when hiseyes unmistakably land on Fuyuhiko’s scar, his smile wanes, he draws his bottomlip into his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Fuyuhiko rolls his eye to cover up the drop in his heart,releases Hinata’s shirt from his fingers. “For what? You didn’t gouge out myeye and replace it with a crazy dead girl’s. Or abuse your family andfollowers, your empire, to murder hundreds of people. Use your best friend asif she was nothing more than a tool. Or—”

And now it’s Hinata kissing Fuyuhiko. Softer, gentler thanFuyuhiko’s silencing kiss but just as effective and just as brief.

“That’s pretty effective,” Hinata says, barely above awhisper, as if something will break if he’s any louder.

“Shut up.” Fuyuhiko can feel the heat in his cheeks, theecho of Hinata’s lips pressed against his.

Hinata smile slants at an angle. “You could make me,” heoffers, and Fuyuhiko glares up at his teasing tone. He doesn’t know what goingon anymore, how they got to this point, miles away from the anger andfrustration from only moments ago.

As if reminded, his eye feels like it twitches, the scarthrobs its presence. Fuyuhiko winces and Hinata’s smirk smooths away intosomething thoughtful, a little concerned. Fuyuhiko resignedly prepares foranother round of batting off unnecessary concern for his mutilation but he’sstopped short when Hinata leans down and those soft and gentle, careful lipsland on his disfigurement. It’s a barely there press and Hinata keeps Fuyuhikoin the moment with a solid hand on his shoulder.

When Hinata pulls away, his smile is self-conscious, alittle embarrassed. “If a kiss can quiet a person, maybe they’ll quiet otherthings too.”

It takes a moment for Fuyuhiko to process and respond. Heshakes his head, his ears as warm as the blooming feeling in his chest andstomach. Gathering some of the warmth into courage, he feigns a calm and casualmien, but can’t help running his hand through his hair. “It’s not guaranteed.But I wouldn’t mind testing it. With you.”

Hinata’s grin is knowing, a little shy, but happy. “I’d liketo kiss you a lot more, too, Kuzuryuu-kun.”

Fuyuhiko blushes hard and argues that that isnot what he had said, but Hinata takes a proactive approach to begin theirtests of the quieting power of a kiss.

[opulopful]

I’m posting my Paranatural fanfic here because Reddit won’t allow comments over 10,000 characters for some reason. Warning: I went full fanfic mode on this thing; OC protagonist and everything. It’s also less joke-heavy than usual. Also I have done exactly zero editing. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Suzy’s grand scheme

The third grudge was being uncooperative. Not that the other two had gone particularly smoothly either, but there’s a certain point you reach after a day of running back and forth through the woods, up and down hills, and through Mayview’s small-town streets that you begin to take every scraping stick and uneven curb as a personal offense. Marcella had passed that point an hour ago. It’s not easy to track a spirit, even a rampaging one like the insectoid monstrosities of today. Apparently somebody had disturbed a nest and although most of the swarm had been contained, a few had become grudges and escaped. That’s when they’d called Marcella. “Lazy Consortium… smidges!” She hissed between her teeth as she hurdled another log in pursuit. Marcella tended to make up new insults whenever she was feeling particularly upset. “‘Oops, messed up a basic containment procedure, who should we send to do cleanup? Oh, I know, let’s send Marcella. She loves cleanup runs. I bet she doesn’t even need any help; she’s just so good at them!’” She caught a glimpse of a shiny insect leg through the leaves ahead and tried to put on a small burst of speed. It didn’t work. Her foot caught a tree root and she only just stopped herself from falling. She stopped, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Something was buzzing in her ears and it was getting louder. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from outside her head. A bluish green streak flew towards her, cleanly clipping several leaves from the branches above as it passed. The giant bug spirit had turned around and come back the way it came. “It’s taunting me.” Marcella panted. It was coming directly towards her at quite an alarming rate. “Maybe not taunting exactly…” The bug spirit screamed through the air toward her trailing fresh-cut leafy debris. Marcella was forced to dive to the side to avoid its assault. The grudge traced a shallow curve as it zipped through the trees, looping back around for another pass at Marcella. The shrill buzz of wings grew louder as it approached, yet since it was a spirit, the birds gave it no notice. Sounds produced by spirits are very strange to those used to sounds in the corporeal world. Since spirit sounds don’t interact with the physical world, they often don’t echo off of surfaces or reverberate through objects. A ghost duck’s quack has no echo. However, there is still a ghost Doppler effect for some reason and this is what Marcella was hearing as the bloatfly-lookin’ grudge hurtled toward her although it is unlikely this technical audio-spectral phenomenon was on her mind at the time. Instead, she was probably thinking something along the lines of: “If it hits me at that speed, this dumb bug is going to cut me in half.” The dumb bug was going all out, it had extended sharp-looking spectral energy protrusions to either side of its body to maximize its slicing efficiency. Leaves and branches alike were falling to the ground as it traced a long line through the trees. It dropped altitude as it made a- “Bee line haha get it?” Marcella grimaced at her own joke. -a bee line towards her with clear lethal intent. “No dodging to the side of the bugger this time.” She thought. “Bring it on, bug! I’m not afraid! Unlike some people, I can face my doom with decency.” It complied with remarkable enthusiasm. The persistent human was dead in its sights. No way to dodge now. She’d smushed her last larvae! It had almost reached her when Marcella jumped. The second to last thing that went through the grudge fly’s mind was “humans aren’t supposed to be able to do that!” The last thing that went through the grudge fly’s mind was the opposite end of the grudge fly. Marcella dropped the ten or so feet back to the ground, landing with an unnaturally soft thump. She smirked at the gooey blue blob behind her. “The thing spirits always forget is that there are, in fact, some downsides to poltergeisting.” The fly may have been fast, but even it was no match for a large sturdy elm. As Marcella slipped a marble back into her pocket, its color faded from a dull grey to bright blue streaked with white.

“Did you hear that, Collin? Sounded like crime to me!” Marcella looked around, the voice was coming from a nearby clearing: past the line where the trees stopped and the edge of a field began. A soccer field. “Oh man, I didn’t realize I had come this far.” Mayview Middle School held few positive memories for her and she tended to avoid it as much as possible. “All we could hear was you yelling, Suzy.” “Shudup, Dmitri, Collin can speak for himself. You heard that crash right, Collin?” “Actually I-“ “Told you he heard something. C’mon let’s investigate! Everybody spread out!” Marcella decided she didn’t want to be spotted snooping around in the woods behind the middle school on the opposite end of town from her own school. She hid in a nearby thicket. She could hear the small group drawing closer. “What do you think we’ll even find out here anyway? Suspicious squirrels?” “Well, Dmitri, I’m glad you asked. As a matter of fact, I just so happened to overhear a member of the Activity Club -“ (The tone of voice Suzy used to say ‘Activity Club’ was the kind of tone people usually reserve for such things as ‘cockroaches’ or ‘infidels’ or perhaps the name of the bandit gang who burned my small rural village and murdered my family and who I’ve dedicated my life to training in order to defeat) mention that they would be meeting out here after school today. I thought it might be worth investigating.” “Suzy, you stuffed yourself into the locker next to Max’s and waited for two hours until he finally showed up.” “Your point, Collin? A good investigative journalist must be prepared to do what it takes to get the scoop.” They were quite close now. Almost to the bush Marcella was hiding in. Suddenly they stopped. “Ok, Collin, you go left, Dmitri, straight. I’ll go right. Make sure to stay in contact via radio.” “You call this a radio?” “You know it’s the best we can do with our club’s funds, Dmitri.” “I was referring more to the glitter glue.” “Hey, Suzy, I thought you said you knew where the Activity Club was meeting. Wouldn’t left be the opposite direction?” “It’s important to be thorough in your investigations.” “Right, but-“ “Move out, team!” Marcella heard a deep sigh and a resigned plodding away through the underbrush. Another, lighter set of footsteps went the other way at a much faster pace. Almost as though someone had somewhere specific to be as soon as possible. Then Marcella noticed a pair of white sneakers standing next to her thicket. They weren’t walking anywhere. The other footsteps faded away. Marcella looked up. “Hi Dmitri.” “Hey Marcy.” “You know I hate it when people call me that.” “Yep.” Marcella stood up and dusted herself off. “Sounds like you have somewhere to be.” “Nah, Suzy can handle herself without my help.” “That’s what I mean.” “Oh, ha. Well, I’m not too worried about it.” “I thought you were part of the Activity club.” “I was.” “Oh.” There was an awkward pause. Well, awkward for Marcella. Dmitri never seemed to be awkward. Like a middle schooler talking with a high schooler in terse phrases about a ghost club in the woods behind the school was the most normal thing ever. “Weellp, I’ve gotta go. Always nice chatting with you, kid.” She gave Dmitri a pat on the shoulder. The look in his eyes could melt glass but his expression remained unperturbed. His hands never left his pockets. “See ya later, Marcy.” They turned and began to walk in different directions. “Hey Dmitri” Collin’s voice came through the trees. Marcella dove into another bush. “I heard voices, were you talking to somebody?” “Nope. Just coming up with some new lyrics.” “Oh, cool. Should we go after Suzy yet or…” “Eh, give it a minute or so.” The sound of something crashing through the trees came from the direction Suzy had gone. “On second thought, maybe we should check it out.” Marcella stood as they dashed off and removed a small rope with a loop on it from her wrist. The other end hung over a tree branch nearby. It smelled of orange juice. “Who put this thing here?” She muttered to herself. Then she heard a familiar buzzing overhead. “Not again.” Another large fly passed overhead. It wasn’t attacking but it was flying with purpose. “Aw man, I thought I got the last of them.” She rushed after the fly and toward the distant crashing.

“Do you hear it, Collin?” “Yeah I mean it’s pretty loud.” “That’s the sound of a scoop.” “Sounds like a moose.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Dmitri. A moose sounds more like- wait, I won’t fall for that again. We can’t afford to blow our cover this time.” “Wow, you got me Suzy. Foiled again.” The three were huddled behind an overgrown shed. Nearby, a few rocky outcroppings poked out of the hillside above the forrest of pine trees that stretched for miles around this side of the town. A few of the pine trees below seemed to be moving. This was where the crashing was coming from. “You’re sure you saw the Activity club?” whispered Collin. “Sure I’m sure.” Said Suzy “Just before you got here I saw them go behind that rock.” “That one?” “Didn’t I tell you to go the other way? We coulda flanked ‘em.” “But if I had gone the other way I would-“ “Shhh. Look!” Mr. Spender ascended one of the rock outcroppings and posed dramatically. “Now kids, I want you to pay close attention. This can be a great learning opportunity for all of you. Especially you Isaac.” Suddenly, he flew backward off the rock and landed in the grass below. After a moment, a driving-gloved hand emerged with one finger held upward. “Lesson one: Never let your guard down.” “Thank you for the demonstration, sir.”

“What are they doing?” Whispered Suzy. “Perhaps some kind of elaborate role-playing game.” “Shut up, no one asked you Collin.” “Maybe we should go ask them.” said Dmitri amicably. “Don’t you dare! So help me if you blow our cover I’ll… I’ll… cut your salary for a week!” “Oh no… my salary.” “Well, you’ll be sorry, ok.” “I’m shaking just thinking about it.” “Shh, stop distracting me. I have an idea.”

Marcella was not getting paid enough for this. True, the Consortium never actually paid anybody at all. There had been that thing with the ecto tokens for a while until people began to realize that the tokens got up and walked away every time you stopped watching them and they always seemed to end up in BL’s treasure hoard in the end. Regardless, she wasn’t getting paid enough for this just on general principle. The fly wasn’t moving at full speed which meant she could just barely keep up with it. “Land, you dumb bug.” she said between gritted teeth. Her side hurt from all the running she had been doing and she was feeling quite dehydrated. Suddenly the ground dropped away in front of her and she skidded to a halt. Ahead were a few rocks, a shed, and the flailing tendrils of a horrifying monstrosity. This was where the fly was headed. “Oh no,” She gasped “It’s a Putrimoid.”

Suzy had a plan. Whatever the Activity club was doing, it was definitely illegal. If not now, it could be illegal later she was sure. It all depended on how she spun the story. And she would get the story whatever it took. “Collin, you’re with me. I need somebody to carry the camera case. We’re going to get some shots from down there, right next to the action. Dmitri, you stay up here and get some establishing shots, B-rolls, rolling shutters, stuff like that.” Dmitri thought quickly. “Thanks for trusting me with the more important job, Suzy. I’ll be able to get way better shots from up here without any trees or anything in the way.” “Hmm, on second thought, maybe you should go down and try your luck in the trees. As the head journalist, it is my responsibility to make sure we get the best photographs possible for our audience. Therefore I shall take pictures from up here.” “Sure thing, Suzy.” Said Dmitri. He breathed a sigh of relief to himself as he crept down the hill. No need to add Suzy and Collin getting squashed to the mix of today’s problems.

Marcella considered her options. A Putrimoid was the result of a dying animal, usually a deer caught by a wolf or something, which ends up as a ghost at the same time as a related spirit is created from something nearby. If these two come together in just the wrong way, they can get stuck together. Potentially things can get worse from there and the spirits can mutate and grow and feed off of the purification of the dead animal which is where they draw their name. Really gross, really dangerous. Highly likely to poltergeist. This one had flailing tendrils almost as long as the surrounding trees were tall. Some other spirits and ghosts including the bloatfly hovered around it at relatively safe distance. Sadness on this scale tends to attract them. Occasionally a stray tendril would slice through one that got too close and it would poof out of existence. The trees crashed and waved where it struck them. Clearly a full-blown poltergeist. “Ooh, boy. How do I handle this?” A bolt of electricity arced from behind a rock and struck the end of a tentacle. It recoiled momentarily and then lashed out with a violent smack that shook the ground. “No, no, no, no! The journalists will see you!” After a moment’s hesitation Marcella’s brows set in a determined frown. She clenched her fist and leapt from the cliff.

“Did you see that!” “You’re kneeling on my neck.” moaned Collin, his voice slightly muffled. “A good stepladder wouldn’t complain so much. There was some kind of flash and the whole ground shook!” “I think they’re just setting off some fireworks or something. I doubt we’re going to see anything interesting today.” “Dmitri! Why are you back already?” Dmitri shrugged. “Eh, I couldn’t find any good places to take pictures. Besides, there’s nothing interesting to see anyway.” The ground shook with a boom that shook rocks loose from the hillside. A blond spike of hair and a paintbrush emerged from behind a rock with a terrible war cry. The yell descended down the hill out of sight with a flapping of sandals, getting fainter. There was a sharp crack and then the yell got louder again as it came back up the hill. Apparently the charge had met some resistance. “Dmitri!” “Ok, fine, I’ll go back down.”

Time froze as Marcella fell through the air. The sky turned black and filled with an endless starscape. Standing on the forest floor yet towering high above it stood a blocky, roughly humanoid figure holding a massive beam across its shoulders. It’s face was lost in shadow. “WHY DO YOU HESITATE, CHILD?” “I’m not… hesitating. I’m planning my next move.” “THERE IS NO NEED TO PLAN, YOU HAVE MY POWER ON YOUR SIDE.” Marcella glanced at the marble in her hand. At first glance, it appeared to be a flat, dull grey, but if you looked closer you would see intricate details: tiny divots and cracks almost like… craters. “I don’t want to compromise my deal with the consortium. I can’t let the people down there see me.” “I AM THE FULCRUM ON WHICH THE WORLD HANGS. I AM THE SCALES ON WHICH ARE WEIGHED THE SANDS OF TIME. IF I HAD BUT ANOTHER EARTH TO STAND UPON I COULD MOVE THE WORLD. THERE IS NO NEED TO OBSERVE THE PETTY RULES AND REGULATIONS SO NEEDLESSLY PRESSED UPON YOU.” “I’m the same as everybody else, Fulcrum. And you’re not as great as you think.” Color returned to the world as Marcella’s feet touched lightly down to the rocky hillside. The marble turned blue and white again and she slid more heavily down some gravel and stopped behind a tree. She peaked briefly around it to make sure everyone’s attention was still on the shaking trees ahead and then ducked her head and darted between the pines.

Max lounged against a moss-covered rock, bat hanging loosely at his side. “Nice going, Isaac. Almost got it that time.” “Maybe if you would help a little we could actually make some progress here.” Spender was giving some inspirational instruction from the sidelines which was difficult to hear over the din from the trees below. Isabel was busy elsewhere on another mission which she had called ‘more important than some weak old rot ghost’. Ed was making another attempt at a charge. This time he managed to cut almost a whole inch off the tip of a tendril with an ink slash before making a hasty retreat. “Nah, it looks like you guys have got it under control. Anyway, what am I supposed to do? I’ve got magnet powers. Do you see anything magnetic?” “Well, you could try doing something.” seethed Isaac. “What if you ran up to there and then I could push you up over the thing with a wind blast. You could aim your bat down at a weak spot and I could shoot a lightning bolt through the bat and deal some devastating damage!” “Wow, what a great plan. I like it… except maybe for the part where I get tossed through the air over an angry tentacle monster and then you shoot a lightning bolt at me.” “Well, you come up with something then!” “I have.” “What is it?” “You’re looking at it.” Max started a game of snake on his phone.

Suzy was beside herself with frustration. “I can’t see anything, they won’t come out from behind that rock but if I get closer, they’ll see me!” “Don’t worry Suzy. I’m sure they’ll have to come out in the open at some point to eat or sleep.” Collin said helpfully. He was sitting in the shade massaging his neck. “No, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. I’m just going to have to go down there, no matter the risk.” “Ok, well have fun.” “Oh, I will. I certainly will. Muahahaha” “You know your evil laugh would be more convincing if you actually were laughing not just saying muahaha like a normal word.” “Let me have this Collin.”

The beast loomed through the trees ahead. A pulsating shapeless mass with dozens of protruding tentacles flailing in every direction. Some passed through the things they struck without a mark, others thrashed through the trees with a horrible cacophony of destruction. The overall effect was very disconcerting. “Ok, here we go.” said Marcella, but her feet didn’t move. Heroics are more easily said than done. “I just need to find an opening.” Suddenly there was a calm. The tendrils calmed for a moment and a sudden hush fell over the valley. “What is…?” Then the Putrimoid shivered and a large eye opened on its side. It was red-rimmed, twitchy, and opened sideways but it was definitely a functioning eyeball because it looked directly at Marcella. “Oh no. It mutated again.” Marcella barely had time to dodge as a tendril came smashing down on the place she had been standing moments earlier. She stumbled into a tree. “This is not good.”

Ed had an idea. It was a good idea because he had seen it in the movies multiple times and it almost always worked. “I’m going in!” He proclaimed. Max looked at him skeptically but Isaac, who was more in tune with common story tropes, began to look panicked. “N-No! Ed, that is not going to work! Do NOT-“ “That’s what they always say.” Said Ed grimly “But sometimes a man’s just gotta do what he’s gotta do.” “Ed!” Ed began to charge down the hill once more, but something was different this time. Maybe it was the set of his shoulders, maybe it was the hard, steely look in his eyes, or maybe it was the fact that his battle cry was so high pitched it could have shattered plate glass.

Marcella was nearly exhausted. There were only so many tentacles you could dodge before your luck ran out. She took cover behind one of the sturdier-looking trees as another attack flew by. “I can’t even get close to it.” The massive eye swiveled away from Marcella and towards the open hillside. A small boy with a paintbrush was flailing his way down the hill screaming wildly. “What does he think he’s… oh no.” There was a blur as a tentacle shot forward, almost faster than the eye could follow. It wrapped itself around the boy and hoisted him into the air. Marcella watched helplessly as the tentacle was retracted, pulling the boy in towards its awful bulk. He struggled valiantly but was pulled inexorably inward. Marcella dashed towards him desperately but a tendril caught her before she had gone 5 steps, knocking her to the ground. She watched helplessly as the tentacle finally dragged the boy the last few feet and then with an awful ’schlorp’ he disappeared into the grisly mass. “You fetid freak! You pustule of incontinence!” Marcella yelled. “I will be your end if it kills me!” The putrimoid paid her no attention. Her vision narrowed, she felt her heart rate spike. This was it. She had to act. She only saw one path forward and it was looking very bumpy. The sky went black. Her marble was in her fist. “Do you have my back Fulcrum?” “ARE YOU HESITATING AGAIN?” “No, just figuring out the timing.” The sky snapped back to blue. Marcella sprinted forward. A tentacle lay limply on the ground, apparently forgotten for the moment as the putrimoid flailed its others. She ducked as another went by her head and then jumped heavily onto the grounded tendril. It snapped upwards reflexively flinging Marcella high into the air. Much higher than she should have flown. For a moment, the earth fell away and she seemed to be suspended in mid air. In the distance was the lake between the two hills of Mayview. The setting sun sparkled off the still water. Pine trees carpeted the landscape below. Marcella looked down. She saw the shed and the cliff with the three journalists one of which was snapping pictures wildly. She saw the Activity club further below, quietly freaking out about their lost comrade. Directly below, the eye of the monster stared up at her looking about as surprised as a horrid tentacled blob is capable of looking. Or maybe she just imagined that part. “Taste the wrath of Jupiter you skrunge!” She shouted. The marble in her fist turned from a dull grey to a pattern of creamy bands adorned with a small red spot. You see, mass may be consistent, but weight is relative and a fulcrum can tilt both ways. A pound of lead may weigh the same as a pound of feathers, but if you move the lead to, say, Neptune, it would weigh much more. If you move the mass on a lever further from the hinge, it tends to have more of an effect. And if you put an angry teenage girl 60 feet in the air and give her the same weight she would have at the core of Jupiter, well… Marcella surrounded herself with a prism of purple spectral energy, point downwards and plummeted at a stomach churning rate. There was a squelch that would scar the memories of everyone present for years and a sudden, deathly silence.

“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done!” exclaimed Ed proudly. Ed stood in the middle of a clearing of destruction and pale orange goop and looked around dazed. He was covered with slime from head to toe. “Wow Ed!” Said Max. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but in the end, it was the Blob that had you in it.” “I knew you could do it.” Said Isaac, trying to sound nonchalant. “Never doubted it for a second.”

“Yes! Victory! I finally have definitive proof that the Activity Club is up to no good! My scheme has finally succeeded!” Suzy held up her camera in victory. Collin sat against the shed rubbing his neck. “At least call it a plan or something. You don’t have to flat out say you’re evil.” he muttered. “Hovering around weirdly has got to be against some kind of rule somewhere!” Ed’s antics today had looked very strange from a non-spectral perspective. “Oh, hey, Suzy. By the way.” Dmitri walked over to the shed where they were hiding again. “Did you remember to replace the memory card after I took it out to use in my camera?” “Memory card!?” Suzy frantically checked the card slot on her camera. “I told you to do that before we left!” “Oh, whoops.” “Dmitriiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!”

[embhm]

Chapter 195: A SURPRISE ATTACK on the STREETS

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to my canine best friend and running companion Boomer. I’m sure there are lots of beaches to run along on and lots of squirrels to chase in Heaven, I’ll miss you buddy. <Alec>

Also, thank you very much to Miss Sae for translating this chapter, you won’t know the depths of our appreciation for your and the other translators’ work on this novel. Thanks again. <3

As a continued notice, please be advised that the “Addicted: The Novel” blog will always update the chapters earlier than here on Tumblr. Please visit https://addictedthenovel.wordpress.com for up to date postings on the translations. <Alec>

THANK YOU ALEC! For always editing when given the time. I would hug you if I can, but here’s a virtual one ٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶ⒽⓤⒼ♥♡̷♡̷ <Sae>

NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!, in the comments or anywhere on this account. We have not finished reading the novel. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Votes/likes/comments are highly appreciated.

While reading, if available, please read the footnotes at the end of the chapter for clarification.

Translator: Sae                     Editor: Alec

As always, THANK YOU for reading and enjoying the journey with our RAMBUNCTIOUS boys:

GU HAI & BAI LUO YIN

《你丫上瘾了》

Chapter 195: A SURPRISE ATTACK on the STREETS

In the twinkling of an eye, two weeks have peacefully passed by since they have been in Qingdao. During the second week, the two had ended their days in the hotel and moved into a rented apartment for the time being. The reasons being, one to save money and two, to avoid having to go out too frequently. During the day, they would hide in the room together and review their assignments but once night fell, they would head out and take a stroll on the beach. It was in this simple way that their days together were enriched with contentment.

“It looks like someone is knocking on the door.” Bai Luo Yin stretched his head out to look at the doorway.

Giving Bai Luo Yin a glance, Gu Hai immediately stood up to open it.

“Hello, it’s the express delivery company. This is your package. Please sign here.”

Once he saw the shape and heaviness of the item in question, Gu Hai’s face sank; even the color seemed to become slightly ashen. Needless to say, it contained books again. For the last few days, Bai Luo Yin had nothing better to do than to search online for school books. From text books to reference books and even workbooks of various subjects, he purchased nearly 100 already. Every day, when the deliveryman arrived at the usually appointed time, Gu Hai was the one who signed for the package. To make matters worse, nine out of ten times, the books were all bought for Gu Hai himself to read while Bai Luo Yin was only in charge of supervising. Consequently, every time Gu Hai saw the delivery man, he had the urge to kick the bastard out!

“Why did you buy more books huh?” Gu Hai’s face darkened even more than before. “Can’t you buy something else as well?”

“What else is there to buy huh? It’s not like we are lacking anything.”

“What do you mean, we aren’t lacking anything?” Gu Hai fiddled with the cigarette lighter in his hand, “There are no more condoms, why didn’t you think about buying a box of it?”

Bai Luo Yin gritted his teeth, “A box……”

“And sex toys too. I looked online yesterday and there were so many different kinds. There were some really interesting looking ones that we’ve never used before. Why didn’t you pay attention to any of it huh? Those would definitely improve our quality of life. Look at what you’re buying……nothing else but books!! Damn it!” Gu Hai bitterly threw the books in his hand to the ground.

Upon seeing this puerile act, Bai Luo Yin narrowed his sharp eyes towards him, “Pick it up.”

Feeling wronged, Gu Hai pouted his lips and cast an angry look at Bai Luo Yin for approximately three seconds. Then, as if sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere, he slowly bent down to pick up the books without waiting for Bai Luo Yin to start counting down.

Satisfied, Bai Luo Yin faced Gu Hai and asked, “Did you finish reading the book that I gave you two days ago?”

“Yeah, I finished it.”

In just seconds, Bai Luo Yin’s seemingly all-knowing eyes scrutinized Gu Hai, but even then, Gu Hai’s clear conscience persevered.

“Bring it to me. I’ll take a look at it.”

Bearing in mind Bai Luo Yin’s tenacious demand, Gu Hai readily handed the book over to him. Although somewhat suspicious at first, Bai Luo Yin nonetheless flipped through the book in a rather calm and casual manner. True to his word, Gu Hai had indeed finished writing in it.

Not surprisingly, when Gu Hai was first handed the book, the answer sheet had already been confiscated by Ba Luo Yin early on. With that, it was clear that these questions were all answered by Gu Hai. Furthermore, in order to prevent him from contriving any tricks, Bai Luo Yin intentionally examined each situation listed in the book thoroughly. This was to further see if he had foolishly written anything without thinking it through. As a result of the examination, everything looked good.

“How is it? I didn’t lie to you, did I?” Gu Hai reached out to take the book back.

However, Bai Luo Yin suddenly withdrew his hand and gripped hard at the seam of the book. There, he felt that the thickness of the book was slightly strange. As he flipped the book open again and looked at the page numbers, he was immediately enraged.

Motherfucker!

Flipping through the book one page at a time, he noticed that every other page was missing. He flipped again, another page was missing. Needless to say, this rascal must have torn them out!

Noting that Bai Luo Yin’s expression had fallen through and his own deceitful actions had been exposed, Gu Hai hastily fled to the other room. Bai Luo Yin pursued closely behind. It was not hard to tell that he had taken this as a challenge and refused to let it go. After a short while, he was finally able to capture Gu Hai in the bathroom. Without much trouble, he grabbed the mop leaning behind the door and ruthlessly struck Gu Hai. The guilty boy scuttled to all corners of the room while the mop flew down to attack him repeatedly. Ultimately, he ended up at a small corner, struggling to survive in between hits.

“Stop hitting me. Baby, you’re hurting me. Who will serve you later huh?”

“I don’t need you to serve me. I’ll still be able to live well even if it’s just me.”

With much ease, Gu Hai roughly pushed Bai Luo Yin against the wall. This sudden contact caused the huge item, once hanging out silently between his legs, to press up against Bai Luo Yin’s family jewels. Taking advantage of the crude moment, he pruriently rubbed even harder. When he detected Bai Luo Yin struggling, Gu Hai bit hard on his earlobe.

“In other words, you only have me. Who else can satisfy you huh? Even if both your hands were rubbing it until they’re dislocated, it still won’t be able to keep up with half my speed.”

Before any more titillating words gyrated out of his lips, Gu Hai suffered another round of beating!

“Hey, I can hear the phone ringing,” said Gu Hai.

Still not releasing Gu Hai, Bai Luo Yin listened carefully for a moment. It seemed Gu Hai’s cell phone was indeed ringing. Slightly pursing his lips, Bai Luo Yin finally loosened up his grip and let him go before the two made their way out of the bathroom together.

Seeing that it was Gu Yang’s number with just one look, Gu Hai answered the call and casually said ‘Ge.’

“I’ve already arrived in Qingdao. Where are you staying at?”

“Why are……” Gu Hai was flabbergasted, “What did you come to Qingdao for?”

“Your dad sent me here to capture you!”

Gu Hai snorted, “Look at the person he sent. He looked for half a day only to end up sending an accomplice!”

Carefully listening to the small conversation, Bai Luo Yin picked up his own cell phone and browsed through its call history for the last couple of days. After looking through it for a while, he suddenly became aware of something.

“That’s enough, where are you right now? I’ll go look for you.” Gu Hai said indifferently.

“Up to you.”

After hanging up on the call, Gu Hai faced Bai Luo Yin and said, “My dad already knows that we are in Qingdao. He’d even sent my brother here to capture the two of us. Tell me, is he brainless?”

“Do you actually know if Gu Yang is on your side?” Bai Luo Yin asked without restraint.

“What about it?” Gu Hai answered with a question instead, “If he was working with my dad to vent out his anger, why did he help us that time?”

The color on Bai Luo Yin’s face changed at those words, “I’m just urging you to be a bit more cautious.”

“Okay, I know. I’m going to head out.”

Just as Gu Hai left, Bai Luo Yin immediately gave Bai Han Qi a phone call.

“Dad……”

“Son!” Bai Han Qi’s laughter trickled from the other side. His voice was crisp and bright, making it sound as though his mood was pretty good.

“Has Gu Hai’s father gone to our house for the last few days?”

“He hasn’t!” Bai Han Qi let out a light sigh, “I’ve also wondered about this. It’s got me confused too you know. Since the two of you left until now, he hasn’t shown up at all. You mother hasn’t either. Neither of them came here to ask about anything.”

Compared to Bai Han Qi’s relaxed state of mind, Bai Luo Yin’s mind was being ravaged by an unwavering sense of uneasiness that caused his chest to tighten.

“Dad, if it’s convenient, use someone else's ID card and change your phone number. I might have to change my number as well.”

Startled, Bai Han Qi’s breathing became heavier, “Son, what’s wrong? Did something happen over there?”

“No, nothing happened.” Bai Luo Yin quickly consoled him with a few more words, “I’m really good over here. Aren’t I doing this for the purpose of guarding against the unexpected?!”

“There’s no need to worry. If something were to happen, dad will cover for you!”

Those few words bitterly gripped at Bai Luo Yin’s heart.

“Oh, that’s right son! Dad has some good news to tell you. Two days ago, a teacher called here and said that the school has already fixed a recommendation for direct admission into the university for you. This time, there’s no need for you to worry about it anymore. Just relax and have fun over there.”

Bai Luo Yin’s brows rose slightly, “From what I remember, the recommendation needed to pass through two evaluations. I haven’t returned to school since, how did it pass the evaluations so thoroughly?”

“I don’t know either!” Bai Han Qi made a huffing noise, “When you’d just left, I took a trip to the school and asked about it. At that time, the teacher said that if the student doesn’t come, it doesn’t matter if someone else does. But strangely enough, yesterday a call came over to notify us that your evaluations have been approved and complied with their conditions. Afterwards, it was immediately classified as a direct admission into the university. As of yesterday, the file has been submitted.”

Bai Luo Yin became suspicious at the peculiarity of that event.

“Son, in two days, I’m going to chat with the teacher again. You two should come back as soon as possible! Since our ancestors have brought such a brilliant student worthy of Qinghua University, I should arrange a few tables and invite some close relatives and friends over. We should at the least show our faces!”

“Okay, I know dad. Just don’t forget to change your phone number.”

Immediately after hanging up, Bai Luo Yin began to rhythmically tap his fingers on the writing desk as if they were a set of drums. With each successive round of taps, the heavier they struck the table and thus they became louder and more intense. Suddenly, his fingers halted and huge waves of light flickered from what seemed to be the depths of his eyes. Without hesitation, he picked up his phone to call Gu Hai.

“Da Hai, don’t go meet up with your brother. Quickly come back here now!”

Listening to Bai Luo Yin attentively on the other side of the call, Gu Hai was raided with confusion. “Why? I’ve already arrived at the hotel’s entrance.”

“Don’t worry about the reasons. It’s enough if you just return here immediately.”

Thinking that something has happened to Bai Luo Yin, Gu Hai’s mind was immediately smoldered with anxiety. Just as he turned to leave, he suddenly sensed a gust of chilly air rush towards him from behind. He took a large stride to the side, compelling the person that attempted to mount a sneak attack on him to engage.

Gu Hai had the brim of his cap pulled very low and was also wearing a pair of black sunglasses. At first, this person only had some suspicions, but after the quick exchange with Gu Hai a moment ago, he was certain that his target was indeed Gu Hai.

This was a skilled individual. His fighting skills were not in the least bit concealed. After Gu Hai punctiliously hurled several tempestuous fists at him, he realized that this man was completely different from all the other skilled men that he had encountered before. As their fists met each other, Gu Hai quickly noticed that the attacker was not the least bit afraid of hurting himself. Instead, the assailant was refraining himself from hurting Gu Hai, since his goal was to try his best to subdue his quarry!

Sensing the odds of ensuring success were not too high after exchanging a few more punches, the attacker suddenly lowered his head and said a few words. “Huidu Hotel. At the corner of East street.”

Although in full combat mode, Gu Hai was well aware of his surroundings so when he heard those words, he immediately discovered that there was a small instrument hanging loosely from this man’s collar. Composing himself but still not feeling too encouraged about the turn of events, he gave the man a ruthless kick and rushed off. To make matters worse, Gu Hai didn’t know from where those men were going to ambush him from, all he could do was leave it to chance as he made haste and continued westward.

Soon, the two footsteps sounding off from behind him multiplied. Gu Hai knew clearly that the situation was not too optimistic but for now, besides running, there was no other alternative. So as long as there’s an opportunity for him to make it out alive, he would firmly grasp onto it.

A couple of minutes later, Gu Hai scampered into a bustling commercial street. He swiftly maneuvered his way through the throngs of people in the surrounding areas before entering a shopping mall. Then like a mad man, he rushed towards the third floor and charged into the staff lounge. As he swung his head, left and right, looking for a way out, he noticed a window and immediately jumped out of it without much thought. Surprisingly, he landed safely on his feet without hurting himself. This thoughtless jump led him down to the back alley of the shopping mall and distanced him further from the main streets.

Gu Hai stopped to catch his breath. By chance, just scanning his surroundings, he observed a youngster standing to the side.  

“Buddy, help me out. In a moment, wear my clothes and cap and run over there. I’m being chased by a group of debt collectors. Don’t worry. They won’t make it difficult for you once they discovered that you’re not the one they’re looking for.”

The youngster’s face immediately paled as he waved his hands repeatedly to object. “I don’t want to wear it. I don’t want to wear it……”

Without another word, Gu Hai stubbornly gave his clothes to the youngster to put on. Then he took the kid’s hand and shoved it into the pants side pocket where there was a stack of bills inside.

“Help me with this and all that money is yours. If you don’t help me, there’s no use in having it! Consider and handle it yourself!”

This youngster’s face turned purple with pain as Gu Hai’s hand, like a pair of iron pliers, tightly gripped his shoulder. Eventually, under Gu Hai’s attentive gaze, this unlucky individual wore his clothes and bolted north.

“I see him! He’s over there. Follow him!!”

Gu Hai’s nerves tensed. Looking to the side, he saw a car and quickly fled towards the back of it. By chance, there as a beautiful woman crouching on the ground looking for something. Out of options, Gu Hai pulled her up, pushed her against the nearby wall and kissed her!

The group of men majestically passed by Gu Hai from behind.

As the sounds of their footsteps gradually faded, Gu Hai let the woman go. He didn't even know where he had kissed her. It was soft and had a trace of fragrance to it. The woman’s luminous eyes looked on at the face in front of her. It was bright and seemed to be lit with rays of sunshine, handsome and unruly. At first, she wanted to slap him, but she unexpectedly was not able to raise her hand.

Making sure the area was clear, Gu Hai gave her a quick glance and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. Seeing that you were so beautiful, I couldn’t hold back for a moment.”

For someone that had just met with an event that was quite sudden, the woman’s mental state was exceptionally good. Not only did she not get angry, she even faced Gu Hai and laughed.

This was the first time Gu Hai’s roguish behavior succeeded like this!

At the roof of a high building, a lone sniper stood still with the muzzle of his gun aimed at Gu Hai’s calf. This person couldn’t help but sneer.

He obviously has skills. In spite of everything, he’s still able to stealthily make the best of a bad situation. Fortunately, there’s also a skilled person here, otherwise, this reckless kid would’ve fooled us.

With that in mind, he rapidly pulled the trigger.

Just as Gu Hai was about to leave, he suddenly felt a sharp pain strike his leg. He bit down hard on his teeth while his face distorted into a grim and pale complexion.

What had struck him was not an ordinary bullet. Although it was not lethal to the body, the painful sensation that it produced was just as bad if not worse than a normal bullet. Worse, after the pain slowly subsided, an intense level of numbness will take over and the spot that was struck will instantly lose its sensation. Gu Hai was aware of the numbness that began to creep in the moment he found it difficult to lift his wounded leg. Meanwhile, the group of people that ran the other way were coming back towards him.

Trying to will the numbness away, Gu Hai truly believed that he was now screwed. But, with just a few short sentences from the beautiful woman, he was able to find a way out of this seemingly impossible predicament.

“Why does your complexion look so unsightly? Are you not feeling well? I’m about to head home so I’ll take you to the hospital on my way there!”

“Is this your car?” Gu Hai asked.

The beautiful woman smiled, “What if it is?”

Taking that as the answer, Gu Hai promptly opened the back door and crudely stuffed her in before he sat in the driver’s seat. With haste, he started the car, maneuvered it towards the main road and stepped on the gas pedal, rushing off.

As the group of men rushed ahead, a car swept by them from the side. It was then that they discovered that their target has escaped.

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The original novel is written by Chai Ji Dan.

We do not own any of its content, we are translators and editors.