Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, sex in public, || MDNI!!!
Art: @/lunalovelingo2
Keigo is starting to panic internally. Did I say something wrong to her? What can I say or do to cheer her up? He keeps driving for a few miles until he sees a park. He pulls into the lot and parks the car. You were confused as to what he was doing but you didn’t question him. He turns towards you and caresses your face.
“What’s going on in that head yours, hmm?” He asks softly.
You’re practically melting under his touch. He knew how to get you to talk but it’s gonna take alot more than his usual sweet talk. You just weren’t sure how to tell him how you were feeling. It’s kind of hard to ask someone to open up… especially when they specialize in being surface level with everyone.
“You lie so well…” Tears form in your eyes as you reveal some of what’s on your mind. It felt so stupid to cry over this. Maybe it’s the stress of potentially losing your job that’s finally hitting you.
“Yeah I do. Kinda comes with the title. Being President and a retired spy means I have to be a good liar.” He chuckles. “What’s going on, pretty girl? Be honest.” He urges you.
“Keigo, I don't know anything about you. You’re a sweet guy and you care about me so much. You’ve always been open in regards to your feelings about me. But don't you think it’s a little crazy that we’re getting so deeply involved with each other so fast? I’m moving into your house after knowing you for two months.” You admit.
Keigo stops and thinks for a moment. You’re right. He was so busy trying to get you to open up that he didn’t open up to you. It wasn’t like he was withholding information on purpose. He’s just so used to getting information out of people with nothing in exchange.
“You’re right. It’s a nasty habit I’m still trying to shake. I’m sorry.” He lightly caresses your face. “You’re sacrificing a lot just to clear my name when you don’t have to. The least I could do is open up more.”
“Only if you’re ready for that. I don’t want to force you to open about things that could be traumatic. I just wanted you to know that I am here to listen when you are ready. I want to know about the experiences that shaped you into the man that I am falling for.” You explain.
“Falling for? You’re falling for me?” Keigo mumbles.
“I am. That’s why I’m scared. I’ve never felt like this before in such a short amount of time… and I didn’t think I would at 28 years old.” You admit.
Hearing you confess your feelings to Keigo jump started his pulse. All of his prying and romantic gestures finally paid off.
“You don’t understand what you do to me, Y/N. Meeting you flipped my whole world upside down. I’m a retired pro hero and the President of the HPSC, I wasn’t looking for love. I tried for weeks fighting off my feelings for you. It just kept growing stronger and stronger every interaction we had. Fate brought us together that night at the bar and I don’t regret a thing.” He presses your hand to his cheek and looks lovingly in her eyes. “I know I promised that you wouldn’t lose your job. I am still going to fulfill that promise, one way or another. Trust me when I say that. Being with you brings me a peace I’ve never known and I would do anything to keep that peace.” He admits.
Your eyes start to water as you process what he’s saying to you. You weren’t one to be emotional but due to all the stress, you've been crying quite a bit. Keigo gently wipes your tears as he says, “You crying? I didn’t say anything too bad did I?”
“No, everything you said was amazing. I-I just have been so emotional lately. I usually don’t cry like this.” You say as Keigo consoles you.
“Whhaaaa! You’re emotional over potentially losing your job? Why would you cry over that?” He sarcastically states.
You chuckle at him and say, “Right, only a pussy would cry over that.”
You both share a light chuckle as he kisses your forehead.
“Once we have the press conference, let’s use the rest of the week to relax. Maybe Mira can come visit if she isn’t so busy at the clinic?” He suggests.
You nod your head in agreement and relax into the passenger seat. You text your best friend, telling her how much you miss her.
“She said she’ll try to get a flight tomorrow if there’s any available.”
“My guess is she’ll be able to get an evening flight for tomorrow and arrive after the conference if it’s not too bad with the tourists.” Keigo says as he rests his hand on your thigh. “I’m excited to meet someone so important to you.”
Once you two got back, you started unpacking your personal belongings. Keigo insisted you put everything in his room.
“You’re gonna be sleeping in there anyway. Might as well.” He says while carrying your luggage upstairs.
You didn’t fight him on this. His bedroom and bathroom are so spacious and beautifully decorated like the rest of his house. You follow him upstairs with the rest of your belongings. He already has your suitcases opened and is putting your clothes on hangers.
“I bet you look fucking hot in this.” He says holding up a skimpy lingerie slip you bought ages ago.
“Oh I do.” You state nonchalantly as you walk over to the bathroom and unpack your toiletries.
You got his mind wondering. The minute you got out of sight, Keigo stared at the lewd slip dress. A transparent lace makes up the top and bottom of the tiny dress while silk makes up the middle of the slip. He rubbed the material between his fingers as he thought of you wearing it. The thought of being able to see your breasts through the transparent lace excited him. He looks over at the bathroom to make sure you are preoccupied with organizing your skin care. He holds the fabric up to his face, feeling the soft silk rub against his flushed cheeks. Just the lingering smell of you on the fabric got his dick semi hard.
He quickly puts the slip down as you come back into the room. The apples of his cheeks were red as he continued placing your clothes on hangers. You stop to notice that he’s blushing.
“You okay?” you ask.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Keigo says making direct eye contact.
You flash a look of doubt and ask, “Why are you blushing then?”
He lightly chuckles and says, “Honestly, I imagined you wearing the lingerie. I know, that’s perverted.”
“I don’t mind… I’ll wear it for you soon so you don’t have to imagine.” You say leaving the room to continue your task.
Keigo just now realized that having you here is going to be very difficult for him. Having to have self control at work was one thing but to have self control in his own home? That's asking alot of the poor guy. But he managed. The day was spent getting you settled into his home, figuring out a course of action for the conference meeting and catching up on presidential duties. You and Kegio spent 3 hours on the phone with Keigo’s publicist working on the speeches and gathering information on what the public thinks. After that, you two sat on the floor in the living room, working damn near 5 hours to get Keigo caught up on his work.
“Ooookay, I think that’s enough seriousness for today.” Keigo says as he closes his laptop.
“You sure? I was thinking we could get ahead for the week.” You say looking over his paperwork.
He stares at you in silence right before he flicks you on the forehead and says, “Stop trying to do my job for me. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”
You rub your forehead as he gathers all the paperwork scattered in front of you.
“You’re right, I know I should be relaxing. I just feel so empty without my job.” You admit.
Keigo furrows his brows together as he scratches his head in confusion.
“You… want to work?” Keigo asks.
You laugh knowing Keigo’s relationship with work. He would love to have a break.
“Okay, hear me out.” You say crawling over to him and sitting in his lap.
He wraps his arms around you and says, “I’m listening.”
“It wasn’t until I worked on the Administrative side of Social Work that I felt like I was making a change. Actually being about to develop better programs for people with unusual quirks, villain rehabilitation, and quirk counseling. When I was just starting, I watched so many people get failed by the system and made me hate my job but now I’ve seen the change because I forced the change. I know I can just get hired by another organization that does the same thing. I was just really excited to be so heavily involved in developing a collaboration program with Japan’s HPSC.” She admits.
“We’re very similar, you know. I took my position for that same reason. Wanting to rebuild the system that failed so many heroes…” Keigo says as he nuzzles his head into your neck and squeezes you. “The commission used to own me. I was bought from my mother and was trained to be used as the HPSC’s personal weapon.”
Your lips slightly part as you process what he’s telling you. You rub his arms as a way to comfort him. You knew he worked for the commission when he was a hero but to be bought and separated from his mother is a whole other story. These were the types of situations you’d hear about that made you get into the field.
“Being the president of the organization that held you captive to dismantle the corruption from within. You really are the ultimate hero.” You say softly.
Every time you learned more about him, it made you fall deeper in love with him. You admired his selflessness and devotion to making this world a safer place for the next generation.
“You think so?” He questions.
“Yeah, I do. You’re my number one hero.” You claim.
***********
The vibration of Keigo’s phone on his night stand caused him to wake up. You were asleep on his chest as he reached over to grab his phone. It was a text from his assistant.
“I saw you turned in everything last night. Have a good two days off! I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
All of that work you helped him do last night was actually for the next two days off. Today he wanted to take you out on a date and give you a nice day off. Who knows what chaos this conference will bring tomorrow so today is all about making you feel good. His plan was to make you breakfast and take you to a private onsen just for the two of you. It had been awhile since Keigo had been to an onsen. He thought that it would be a perfect thing for you to relax…but of course he has an ulterior motive. He wanted to have a reason to see his beautiful girlfriend naked and oiled up. He blushed to himself as he envisioned it. He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until he started seeing you. He gets up and starts his morning routine. While doing so he thinks of other things you guys could do that’s relaxing.
“Ohayo.” You mumble from the bed.
“Ohayo. Yoku yasumemashita ka?” He says as he dries his face.
You think for a second, trying to see if you know what he said.
“Did I rest well? Hai.” You say.
“Gokuro sama, baby.” Keigo says, tilting his head to the side.
You get up and walk into the bathroom and hug him from behind. He kisses your cheek and pats your head.
“Your sexy, strong, boyfriend is taking you somewhere cool today.” He sings.
“That’s sweet of you. Where are we going?” You ask.
“I’m not telling you. Why would I do that?” He says while furrowing his brow.
You laugh at his contradicting statements and said, “Can you at least tell me what to wear?”
“Sundress. No bra, no panties.” Keigo states with his usual half lidded eyes.
“……okay where the fuck are we going?” You say with a chuckle.
“I’ll tell you because without context, it sounds crazy. I’m taking you to a spa that has rooms with private open air onsen.” He says with a chuckle.
“Ohhh, I was about to say…” you say while giving Keigo a side eye.
**************
Once you get to the onsen, you and Keigo shower down. Keigo insists on washing every crevice of your body for you. You let him as long as you get to return the favor.
“Your skin is always so smooth and soft. You barely have any scars.” He says rubbing the wash cloth over your back.
“My parents were very protective of me growing up. I was their little princess.” You say with your eyes closed.
“I can tell. I can't help but to spoil you every chance I get.” He says running the water over your naked body to get the soap off.
You chuckle and say, “My turn.”
You lather up the soap in the washcloth and start by washing his torso. You were gentle when washing over any of his scars. He had hundreds of them.
“I got that scar when I got stabbed by a bioengineered creature.” He says nonchalantly.
You look at him and sarcastically say, “Love!”
You two giggle. You run your wash cloth over a scar that starts on his ribcage and stretches over his entire upper back and say, “This is a big one.”
“Yea, I got burned pretty badly. My feathers took forever to grow back.” He says.
You move on to another on his shoulder.
“I got shot.”
His neck.
“Blade.”
Once you rinsed the soap off of him, you kissed the scar on his shoulder. He looks down at you and kisses the top of your head. He loved how you comfort him with physical touch. He knows you can’t relate to him all the time but you find ways to make him feel as if he isn’t alone. He loved this about you. You two walk over to the hotspring and slowly get in. It took Keigo a minute for his body to adjust to the heat but once he did, he sat across from you. You both closed your eyes as you took in the sounds of nature. An occasional breeze would come and blow past the two of you as you soaked. He spoke softly about his past, informing you about his previous travels and adventures he went on with his wings.
“It’s been about 15 minutes. Do you wanna get out for a bit and relax in the room? I can give you a massage on the bed?” Keigo offers.
You nod your head and agree. He gets out the spring and grabs you a towel. He wraps one around his waist as you wrap one around your chest. Keigo pours oil in his hand right before he rubs them together.
“You ready? Come lay down on your stomach.” Keigo says with a smirk.
You roll your eyes and press your lips together as you laid down on the massage table. You know Keigo has ulterior motives, when does he not? He may be doing this out of the kindness of his heart but it’s gonna lead to him getting his dick wet. He starts with your legs, running his hands down the back of your thighs and calves. He grabs your right foot and gently massages them with his thumbs. Keigo doesn’t have a foot fetish but your feet have always been exceptionally pretty to him. He works his fingers in between your painted toes. He moves up to your calves, and then your thighs again. You slightly separate your legs so he could see your glistening cunt underneath your towel. He immediately bites his lip once he sees how wet you are. He swiftly slides two fingers into you.
He bends down, placing his mouth right next to your ear and whispers, “You’d think we’d learn our lesson after the security footage leaked, but nope. Here you are letting me finger you at the onsen. At least no one can see us but they would be able to hear you. So you’ve got to be quiet, pretty girl. Let’s make this quick.”
You nod your head as he continues to push his digits deeper in you. His left hand massages the plump of your ass. You let out the smallest whimpers as you grind on his fingers.
“That’s it, baby.” He whispers.
He starts licking and biting the side of your neck as you pleasure yourself on his fingers. He slides his fingers out whilst lifting your hips off the massage table, causing your ass to be in the air. He drags his tongue over your wetness, eating you out from the back. Your toes curl as he pushes his tongue between your folds, groaning as if the pleasure was his.
A breathless, “Yes” falls from your lips as he continues to devour you.
He made it so hard to be quiet, yet he loved to have his way with you in public settings. He pulls away from your wetness, giving it one more kiss before he was truly done. You sit up on your butt, letting your legs dangle off the side of the massage table. Keigo pulls you into a kiss, making you taste yourself. He fondled your round breasts while caressing your tongue against his. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you up by your thighs. He pushes your back up against the cool wall as he pushes the tip of his dick inside of you.
“Ī ko chan (good girl).” He whispers into your ear with slow hard thrusts from his hips. He digs his calloused fingertips in your thigh as he makes his way deeper inside you. “Nureteru (You’re so wet).” He hums.
You gasp and jokingly cover his mouth. He chuckles, knowing that you're on to him. He never ‘talks you through it’ in Japanese but of course he would when it raises the chances of you two getting caught.
“You’re not slick -hah!- I know what you’re doing.” Your words coming out in between moans as he repeatedly lowers you on his dick.
“I can’t help it. I wish the world could watch me fuck you.” He admits as he speeds up.
He didn’t want to get caught but he wasn’t stopping until he hits your g spot. Each thrust was formulated, constantly adjusting and changing his approach until he finally felt that spongy area on the tip of his dick. You quickly cover your mouth, muffling the yelp you let out.
“Atta (There it is).” He groans as your walls tighten around his shaft.
Once he hits it, he doesn’t miss. He drills into you repeatedly, eventually not caring if he’s making noise. He places all his weight on you, making sure you stay in place while you take his dick. You run your nails down his scarred back as you bite your lip, whimpering lightly. Sweat drips down his forehead as he throws his head back and grunts the word, “Iku (I’m cumming).”
You don’t even have to say the words, he knew you were cumming by the way your walls were pulsating around him. You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer to you causing him to paint your walls with his warm cum. He mumbles the words “I love you” in your ear as you both ride out your orgasm.
Hearing those words send a jolt through your body. He didn’t mean that, did he? That’s the first time he’s ever said those words to you… and he said while balls deep in you.
“Keigo, did you mean..that.” You say as he puts you down, your eyes locked onto his half lidded ones.
“Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?” He says in a low voice. “I would feel stupid giving you this if I didn't tell you my true feelings first.”
You and him both get dressed in robes that were left in the room for guests to use.He walks into the bathroom and returns with a tiny box in his hand. He hands you the box with a smirk on his face. You look down at it and then back up at him.
“Open it.” He says.
You open the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. You gasp and cover your mouth as you stare at the ring. You’re aware that he isn’t really proposing and this is a fake engagement ring to fool the public but it’s a nice one. It has to be like 3 carats!? He really went all out on this.
“Keigo….” You say in shock.
“I know, I know. It’s one hell of a promise ring… and it’s lab grown diamonds. I know how you feel about real ones.” He chuckles. “I know that this is technically a fake engagement but my love for you is real. This ring is a promise to you. I promise to be the person you can lean on whenever. I promise to make you happy everyday for the rest of your life….. and I promise to make you feel loved in any way that I can. Y/N, I love you.” He rambles.
“I love you, too.” You say you pull him into a hug.
So sorry for the long wait!!! I have been so preoccupied this month but this series is almost done!!! Next chapter we get the press conference and your best friend comes into town!!! Thank you for the patience and thank you for reading!!!
Stalking, Mentions of murder/death, manipulative partner, Yandere, Smut in a later chapter
Y/n is a ghost hunter who has, against his better judgement, decided to check out a newly famous cryptid that's causing problems for the owner of Albright.
Hunting cryptids is never as fun as it sounds.
Driving hours a day only to sleep on the floor of some crumbling building in the middle of nowhere is the reality of the situation. A reality that took its toll on y/n’s back. Unfortunately, Y/n gets more views the more uncomfortable he is, so no cot. Just an old-ass flashlight, his camera, a sleeping bag, and an EMS reader. If this isn’t the height of luxury, then what is? Sure, having thousands of people watch your every move the moment you press that live button is a little intimidating, but it more than pays the bills.
Gravel crunched under his tires as Y/n pulled into the parking lot of his next haunt location. This video, a 10k special, was unlike anything the young ghost hunter had even dreamed of doing. Gone were the days of hiking through woods and getting kicked out of cemeteries. Y/n scanned the large metal gate guarded by a small ticket booth. It was one of those gates that was in the middle of nowhere, one whose only purpose was keeping people off the path. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the footprints in the grass beside it. Y/n set up his camera, careful to get the gate centered. “Historic Albright. State Park.” The words were painted sloppily on the side of the small ticket booth, a perfect thumbnail.
The gate creaked open without much hesitation and Y/n started his walk through the town. Old buildings lined the gravel road, most of them had displays showing what they would have looked like in their prime. Y/n could easily imagine this street busy with people dressed in their old-timey clothes doing their old-timey chores. As the sun set on the town, casting a shadow of the large hill onto its streets, the people would be lazily talking to their friends waiting to be invited in. Children would be racing to get back home before curfew, dodging the various shopkeepers making their ways home. Home. Y/n longed to go back home. It had been far too long since he visited that small town, one not too different from this one save for the advancements in technology.
Y/n slowed as he reached the bottom of the hill, pulling his jacket tight. It was colder than it should be in early September, but that only pushed him further. According to one of the many nearby plaques, the house above once belonged to the town’s local hero turned mayor, Keigo Takami. If the legends are to be believed, the residents quickly fled after a curse was placed upon their brave leader.
Their words, not y/n’s. Hopefully their ‘brave leader’ was ahead of his time on insulation techniques. The sooner he got into the manor the better.
The low sun cast an orange glow around the edge of the manor. It looked straight out of a fairytale. The magnificent three-story house stood far above the ghost-town below. Y/n went over what the Ranger had told him. Both the manor and the town were now owned by a local state park that had been established around the start of the ‘cryptid craze’. When y/n reached out about wanting to make a video at the park, the owners were ecstatic. Hawks was bad for business, but a viral video about him could definitely help.
Theoretically, this should all be a hit with both ghost hunters and the average joe, but tourists had stopped showing up about two months ago.
A week after the sightings started.
The internet was flooded with pictures of a humanoid figure with large blood-colored wings and metallic eyes. People theorized about what this creature was and why it was at Albright. It was after a video released with the creature swooping down on the camera with a shriek eerily similar to that of a redtail hawk that the creature was given a name. Hawks. God the internet was full of such creative ideas.
Mothman’s less iconic ripoff.
That’s what y/n called it. But his viewers were insistent that he had to visit. Had to try to contact the monster.
Try to find Hawks.
Despite the lackluster name, those that claimed to have seen Hawks all shared a genuine terror. Y/n had to quickly learn the difference between putting on a fearful face to get a few more views and genuine gut wrenching fear. The quick breaths. The darting eyes. The blood-drained face. Hawks’ victims had them all.
Every single one of them.
Hawks was not your average cryptid, it was nothing like y/n had ever dealt with. As much as y/n may joke about the situation, he couldn’t deny the reality of it all. The person behind the iconic video had been severely injured and died on their way to the hospital. Two deaths later and the park was forced to shut their gates. It was said that you could hear Hawks’ screams from miles away for nearly a week. Once the park had been silent for over two weeks a team searched the entire park and weren’t able to find the monster. It was decidedly safe to open back up, but the public wasn’t so sure. Thankfully they were still curious and y/n was willing to be their satisfied cat.
Y/n readied his camera, keeping his eyes on the viewfinder. Planks of wood bared the downstairs windows. Each one tightly nailed to the rotting window frames. The clawed white paint flaked off the walls in large chunks near the foundation and doorway. A picture perfect haunted house. And an amazing shot.
“Hello guys and welcome to another episode of commission cryptids! My Patreon members decided this week's paranormal investigation will be on the infamous Hawks.” Y/n continued his intro as normal, self promos all included. There wasn’t enough signal here to run a livestream. Luckily YouTube is a thing. Unfortunately that means editing a video.
Y/n grabbed the cold brassy door handle as he began to explain the lore and local history of Hawks. He pushed against the door in an attempt at a grand reveal, but it didn’t open. He tried again with not so much as a creak in return. “Huh, well I was told the door would be unlocked. Um- I’m just going to make a phone call real quick.” Y/n turned off his camera and shoved it into his bag.
Y/n scrolled through his recent messages.
Mom
I know, I know, I’m just worried about you. Stay safe.
Layton
Who all is going to be there!? You can’t just
leave whenever you have some video idea. I und-
Grace
For the love of fuck, your boyfriend is so annoying!
Ranger
Thanks so much for your help Linette, this video will be a hit!
Y/n clicked on the text, rereading the last conversation.
Ranger
The best shot of the house is definitely from town square!
It looks so intimidating up there!
Me
Haha the more intimidating the better!
Will any of the places in town be open?
Ranger
No just the house.
But I can leave you the keys if you want?
They are all labeled!
Me
That would be great!
Ranger
Cool! I’ll leave them right inside the door!
Me
Thanks so much for your help Linette, this video will be a hit!
Inside the door.
Just the house.
Sighing, y/n pressed the call button. Maybe she just forgot to unlock it?
It rang once.
Twice.
“The person you are trying to reach is not available.”
He tried again.
Once.
Twice.
“The person you are trying to rea-”
He hit the red button before the robotic voice could finish its message.
Of course there wouldn’t be any signal at the ghost house. Y/n knew this. The last time he remembers having signal was over thirty minutes ago. Sure he /could/ drive out there, but the sun was almost completely set already. He shuddered at the thought of entering the house in the dead of night. Sure he had done his fair share of ‘3AM at insert scary location here’ videos, but this place was different.
He couldn’t leave. Not now,
“So, funny story, the ranger that was supposed to unlock the door must have forgotten. And I don’t I can’t call her, believe me I tried.” Y/n raised his phone to the camera. The two red attempted calls stood proudly at the top of his screen. “Guess we are breaking in.”
Y/n continued to mindlessly talk to his non-existent audience as he walked around the property.
This wasn’t the first y/n had to break into a filming location. When you find yourself staying in abandoned buildings, it just becomes part of the job.
Y/n walked carefully scanned every inch of overgrown greenery. Shattered glass and cigarettes littered various hiding spots. The trampled grass was a welcome sign of life, but y/n worried he would have a run in with his fellow ghost hunters in training. The stories of this house were no secret, and his comment section was a proof of their popularity. He was sure any visitors would be nice enough but he didn’t want to chase the things going bump in the night just to find some kid. As he made his way to the far edge of the yard a small building caught y/n’s attention. It too was painted white, but it was in much better condition than the house. Y/n broke the lock, making a mental note to replace it later, and opened the door. The warm glow of the fast falling sun glinted on the metal tools lining the walls. A gardener’s shed. Not the most helpful, but he could make it work.
Grabbing a ladder and spade, y/n set his plan into action.
The ladder was just tall enough to reach the top of the porch awning. The small roof was covered in slimy leaves and loose singles. He carefully climbed closer to the window, cursing when he heard the metallic crash of the ladder falling. He tightened his grip on the spade and dug it into the bottom of the window. Pushing and pushing until the tip of the spade disappeared. Next was the easy part, opening it. He twisted the spade, hard, until it was completely on its side. The window opened easily making y/n fall onto the hard wooden floor.
Y/n scrambled for his bag and pulled out the camera.
“First off, OW! Secondly, I made it in!” Once again Y/n mindlessly talked and walked. Without the chat to guide him, he had a certain freedom. But also a strange feeling of loneliness. Ghosts aren’t good company, so here he was, showing off the house to his very lucky SD card.
Wandering around the house Y/n did his best to recall all the stories he heard, telling him them in the spookiest voice he could muster.
“They say the bottom floor is the safest, apparently Hawks prefers to stay near his room. Lucky me- I- Um.”
A speck of silver glinted innocently into y/n’s camera from the bottom of the front door. Y/n’s skin was ice cold as he descended the last few steps. A speck of silver glared up at him. The silver keys. They sat on a small slip of paper, as Y/n drew closer he could see Linette’s name signing it.
“What-“
Y/n could imagine his chat. The confusion as to why he stopped. People trying to call bs and say his fear was fake. Too forced to be real. The loyal few defending him. As he stood frozen in place, y/n yearned for it. For the simple distraction. For something to prompt him on what to say next.
He slowly turned his camera towards the door, panning down to the keys. They looked no less ominous on screen.
AAAA hope you guys enjoy this first part! I'm not super sure where this is going, but I wanted to write something a little different before hoping back into Three Months!
The day the internship offers arrived buzzed with a nervous, electric energy in Class 1-A. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, which seemed to crackle with anticipation. You were perched, as you often were, in a little island of cheerful chaos, sitting cross-legged on the edge of Denki Kaminari’s desk. Your own chair was pushed aside, forgotten.
“Okay, so this one,” you said, pointing a finger at the long, printed list spread out before Denki. He was slumped in his chair, chin in his hands, looking utterly bewildered by the sheer number of agencies. “The ‘Sky-High Agency’—they specialize in urban vertical rescue! They’ve got those cool jet-pack sidekicks. That could be fun!”
“But it says ‘requires high tolerance for G-forces,’” Denki groaned, tapping the line. “My brain gets scrambled enough on its own, thanks.”
Standing behind you, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist and her chin nestled in the crook of your neck, was Mina Ashido. She was peering at the list over your other shoulder, her pink cheeks squished against yours. “Ooh, what about this ‘Prism Studio’? It sounds sparkly! They probably do a lot of flashy, public stuff!”
You giggled, a warm, bubbly sound. “You just like the name, Mina.”
“Guilty!” she chirped, squeezing you affectionately. You leaned back into the hug, your white wings giving a contented little rustle from where they were trapped between her chest and your back. This was your normal, the easy physical affection, the shared excitement, the playful analysis.
“Dude, so many choices… and they all look so… serious,” he whined, flashing you a grin. “I need one with a good vibe, y’know? Maybe one that appreciates a well-timed lightning pun.”
You’d all seen the staggering stacks of offers for Todoroki and Bakugou. It was a spectacle of its own. You, having placed a very respectable 6th, were fully expecting and had made peace with receiving the standard, generalized list. A hero in the top ten making a personal request for a first-year? That was the stuff of daydreams, the kind you whispered about with Mina late at night in the dorms. Not reality. Agencies would fight for the top two, maybe three. You were solidly in the “high-potential” category that would get a form letter from a hundred different places, but not top heroes. And that was okay! It was still an incredible opportunity.
“I’m kinda thinking maybe something with good public outreach,” you mused, tilting your head. “My quirk… it’s not the best for head-on fights. I want to help people feel safe, you know? Maybe an agency that does a lot of disaster zone work.”
“You’d be perfect for that, little miss sunshine,” Mina cooed, nuzzling your hair.
Denki grinned. “You’ll be great anywhere! Just flash your smile and your wings and boom—instant calm.”
The classroom door slid open with a soft whoosh, and the ambient chatter dipped for a second before resuming. Mr. Aizawa shuffled in, looking more like a sentient sleeping bag than ever, a small stack of envelopes and papers in his hand. He began moving through the room with the grim efficiency of a postal worker in a warzone, distributing the futures of his students. He had gone off to make more photocopies of the general list of Agencies and bring in the interning offers.
To Kirishima, he handed a specific, thick envelope. The redhead’s eyes went wide, then fierce with joy. “Fourth Kind! No way!” His booming excitement caused a small ripple of congratulations.
You watched with a happy smile, genuinely thrilled for your classmates. You saw Bakugou snatch his offer from Best Jeanist with a venomous scowl (though you noticed his eyes scanned the letter with predatory intensity), and Todoroki accept the one from his own father with icy stoicism.
Mina and you awaited your turn. Denki already had his own, which was the one you'd been going through up until now. “So many words…” Mina whined when she received hers next.
Then Aizawa was standing before you. You looked up at him with your usual bright, attentive expression, ready to accept your list. But he didn’t immediately hand it over. Instead, he fixed you with The Look. It was a look that contained multitudes: profound exhaustion, a hint of impending headache, and the deep-seated intuition that a natural disaster was brewing and he was powerless to stop it.
“You,” he stated, his voice flat.
“M-me, sensei?”
Mina’s grip loosened slightly. Denki sat up straighter.
Aizawa didn’t answer immediately. He just held out the paper. “I’ve already decided this is a bad idea,” he intoned, the words heavy with the weight of preemptive suffering. “But the choice, regrettably, is not mine to make.”
You blinked. Mina’s arms loosened around you. Denki looked up from his list, confused.
“Bad… idea?” Mina echoed, her protective grip on your shoulders tightening.
Denki leaned forward. “Did she get a villain’s agency or something?”
“Bad idea, sir?” you repeated, your head tilting like a curious sparrow. “Joining an agency? But… it’s mandatory for the training…”
“Just take it,” Aizawa sighed, the sound like wind over gravel. He didn’t walk away. He just stood there, a dark, looming pillar of foreboding, his tired eyes watching you with an unnerving intensity.
A flicker of nervousness went through you. Why wasn’t he leaving? Was the list that bad? Were all the options terrible? Your smile became a little wobbly as you carefully took the paper from his hand. Mina leaned in closer, her grip on your shoulders becoming supportive rather than playful. Denki sat up straight.
“Open it, open it!” Mina whispered, her curiosity overriding the weird vibe.
With slightly trembling fingers, you unfolded the paper.
It took your brain a single, split-second to process that this was not a list.
At the top was your name, and then, the official, sleek logo of a stylized wing in gold. Beneath it, in clean, bold print:
INTERNSHIP OFFER & DIRECT REQUESTU.A. High School, Hero Course, Class 1-A
FROM: Keigo Takami, Pro Hero Name: HAWKS, Rank: #3
HAWKS AGENCY, Fukuoka & Musutafu Branch.
The world did not so much slow down as it shattered into a kaleidoscope of pure, unadulterated shock. Your eyes scanned the lines again and again, but the words just danced—unique aerial synergy… exceptional performance at the Sports Festival… high rescue aptitude… direct mentorship… intensive internship…
Hawks.
Hawks.HAWKS.
The paper in your hands began to vibrate with the fine tremor that started in your fingertips and raced through your entire body. Your wings, which had been resting softly against your back, snapped open to their full expanse with a soft whump of displaced air, sending a few loose papers on Denki’s desk fluttering.
A small, breathless squeak escaped your lips. “N-no way,” your voice was trembling. You brought the paper closer, as if doubting your eyes. It was real. The words were real. The feather logo was real. Hawks. The Winged Hero. Number Three. Your childhood hero. The man whose poster was on your wall, whose limited edition plushie sat on your pillow, whose keychain dangled faithfully from your school bag.
Mina, reading over your shoulder, froze. Her sharp gasp was directly in your ear. “No. Way.”
“What? What is it?” Denki demanded, trying to lean around your wings.
You couldn’t speak. You could only stare. Your hero. The Winged Hero. The one whose posters had adorned your walls since you were ten, whose interviews you memorized, whose flight patterns you tried to mimic in your daydreams. The limited-edition plushie currently nestled on your dorm pillow. The little keychain of his visor that dangled from your school bag—the one everyone knew about, the gentle, open secret of your admiration.
The dam broke.
A high-pitched, utterly elated shriek tore from your throat, followed immediately by a torrent of hyperventilating, joyous words. “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! MINA! DENKI! IT’S—IT’S A REQUEST! FROM HIM! FROM HAWKS! HAWKS WANTS ME! TO INTERN! AT HIS AGENCY! PERSONALLY! HAWKS!”
You were on your feet in an instant, jumping off of the desk, the paper clutched to your chest like a holy relic. Your wings were fully extended now, flapping uncontrollably in your excitement, creating a minor gale that sent Aizawa's hair standing on end much to his silent annoyance.
“SHUT UP! NO HE DIDN’T!” Denki screamed back, matching your energy decibel for decibel.
“YES HE DID!” Mina shot back as she grabbed your arms, and the two of you began jumping up and down in unison, a duet of pure, unfiltered fangirling. “THE HAWKS?! NUMBER THREE HAWKS?! THE COOL, HOT, FAST ONE?!”
“YES! THE ONE AND ONLY!”
Denki shot to his feet, his own confusion wiped away by infectious excitement. “WHOAAA! THAT’S INSANE! YOU’RE GONNA WORK WITH HAWKS?! THAT’S SO COOL! YOU CAN FLY TOGETHER AND EVERYTHING! YOU GOT A PERSONAL OFFER LIKE BAKUGOU AND TODOROKI!”
“He saw me! He saw the Festival and he picked me!” you babbled, hands pressed to your flaming cheeks. “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! What do I wear? What do I say? Do you think he’ll let me shadow him on patrol? Do you think—?”
Her shriek shattered the silence. She wrapped her arms around Denki, crushing him in a super tight hug. “The number three hero wants our bestie!!!”
“Mina- I CAN'T BREATHE-”
“He saw me! He saw the festival! And he thought—and he asked—!”
Denki was now standing too, his own excitement electrifying the air around him. “DUDE! THAT’S INSANE! THAT’S LIKE… THE COOLEST OFFER IN THE ROOM! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HAWKS!”
“MY BESTIE IS INTERNING WITH A TOP THREE HERO! A YOUNG, COOL, HANDSOME ONE! WE HAVE TO PLAN YOUR OUTFITS! YOU HAVE TO BE THE CUTEST INTERN IN HISTORY!”
The commotion ripped through the classroom like a tsunami. All other conversations ceased. Heads swiveled. Your ecstatic cries had painted a target of attention squarely on you.
In your whirlwind of joy, your eyes landed on Aizawa, who was still standing a few feet away, watching the spectacle with the expression of a man witnessing a natural disaster he’d accurately predicted.
Without a second thought, you launched yourself at him.
“THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUSOMUCHSENSEI!” you cried, wrapping your arms around him in a brief, crushing, airborne hug. You released him just as quickly, zooming back to Mina and Denki before Aizawa’s brain could even register the assault.
Aizawa stood frozen, slightly off-balance, his arms stuck out at his sides. The entire class had gone silent, staring at the scene: their usually gentle, angelic classmate having just tackled their terrifying homeroom teacher in a burst of transcendent happiness. Aizawa slowly lowered his arms, let out another, even longer-suffering sigh that seemed to say ‘And this is my life now,’ and shuffled back to his desk, collapsing into his chair and pulling his sleeping bag up like a shield against the overwhelming positivity.
But the celebration in your corner was just beginning.
The girls of the class descended upon you like a beautiful, chattering flock.
“Oh my gosh, congratulations!” Ochaco beamed, floating a few inches off the ground in her own happiness for you.
“A top-three hero! That’s a serious acknowledgment of your skills, ribbit,” said Tsuyu, finger to her chin.
“His agency’s fashion is impeccable! You have to get a good costume adjustment!” Momo added, already thinking practically. Jiro just gave you a sharp, approving grin and a thumbs-up. “Pretty badass, wing-girl.”
Even some of the boys wandered over, offering gruff congratulations or looks of impressed surprise. Kirishima gave you a blazing thumbs-up. “That’s so manly! Hawks is incredible!”
Then came the playful, giggling jealousy.
“Ugh, he’s so handsome and young,” Mina sighed dramatically, draping herself over you again, forcing you to support her bridal style with an 'oof'. “You’re gonna be working side-by-side with that smile! I demand daily updates! What does his hair smell like?!”
“Yeah, no fair!” Toru Hagakure’s uniform sleeves waved in mock protest. “You get the cool, stylish hero while some of us get… well, my list has an agency that specializes in agricultural rescue. I think their sidekick is a sentient scarecrow.”
You were laughing, crying, and trembling all at once, a wide smile on your lips. “I just… I can’t believe it. He saw me? At the Festival? And he thought… he wanted…”
You were floating. You were in a total cloud nine, a stratosphere of delight. The world was made of golden light and the sound of your own heartbeat singing Hawks-Hawks-Hawks.
“A most prestigious offer! Congratulations!” boomed Tenya Iida, chopping the air.
“Thank you, class rep!”
“So manly!” Kirishima grinned, giving you a thumbs-up.
“Tch. Don’t get yourself killed following that show-off around,” Bakugou muttered, though there was no real heat in it.
“I know, I know!” you giggled, breathless, your heart still hammering against your ribs. “It’s just… it’s Hawks. He’s been my favorite since I was little! I never, ever thought…”
You looked down at the paper Mina had handed back to you. Your fingers traced the embossed feather. The reality was settling in, warm and dazzling. This was happening. You were going to work alongside your hero. You were going to learn from the best flier in Japan. The possibilities stretched out before you like an open sky.
“LOOK AT THIS!” she proclaimed to the room. “Our girl got an offer from the NUMBER THREE! And he’s, like, SUPER young and cool and handsome! birdie, you’re gonna be interning with a celebrity!”
From his sack of misery behind the desk, Aizawa watched the scene through one half-open eye. He saw your radiant, disbelieving joy, the supportive chaos of your friends, the tangible proof of a dream coming true. He thought of the lazy, too-smart glint in Hawks’ eyes during their brief correspondence about the offer, the way the request had been worded with a precision that felt less like professional scouting and more like a predator neatly marking its territory.
“A bad idea,” he mumbled to himself, burrowing deeper into the fabric. “That bird is going to spoil her rotten, and we’ll never get her back.”
TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf
GENRE: smut
SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up.
WORD COUNT: 2.6K
🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr
not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.
“keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?
“how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence.
rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried.
had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.
keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.
taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall.
the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.
“you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”
his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you.
he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim.
well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.
something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.
you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….
but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything.
sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already).
meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.
“mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress.
“missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.
keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him.
“‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.
before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet.
him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.
“kei…”
“shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes
his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul.
perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips.
it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.
“keigo?”
“just relax, dove.”
he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.
bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.
“mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.
it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper.
“fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones.
your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.
“don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there.
“why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.
“don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.
you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat.
“nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.
it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open.
“k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.
but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him.
tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.
“k– kei—!”
“gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”
your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?
“f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard.
“nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—”
this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.
“k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight.
“good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—
“then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!?
“huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!
“you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.
“i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.
unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.
keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.
and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.
Keigo Takami had a habit of noticing things he shouldn’t.
He noticed how a villain’s shoulders tensed a second before they struck. He noticed how reporters angled their cameras to catch his wingspan. He noticed when an intern whispered something under their breath that was meant to sound like admiration but felt more like envy.
And lately - he noticed you.
You’d started at his agency six months ago, just another efficient face among the endless rotation of staff and sidekicks. Organized. Sharp. You always had your clipboard ready before he even asked for it, files alphabetized.
Then he started realizing small things.
The way your skirts hugged the back of your thighs when you reached for a folder. The faint scent of your perfume when you leaned past his chair to hand him paperwork. The sound of your voice when you said, “Takami‑san, you have that board meeting in ten minutes,” soft and polite.
You never used his hero name unless the cameras were around. He liked that. He liked it too much.
It was supposed to stay a passing thought. A professional appreciation.
But he started timing his landings after patrols so he’d pass your desk first. Started noticing when you wore something new. Started catching himself wondering what it’d take to make you blush. Make you moan.
And he’d shake his head at himself like - get it together, birdbrain, before dragging himself into another meeting.
____________
The office after hours was quiet.
He came back long after sunset, wings rustling from patrol, uniform half‑zipped. His body was buzzing from too much adrenaline and not enough rest. He pushed the door open and stopped dead.
You were at your desk. Hair pulled up messily. Your blouse rolled at the sleeves. Stacks of files around you, a pencil tucked behind your ear.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, one brow cocked. “Didn’t know we were runnin’ a 24‑hour agency now.”
You glanced up, smiling faintly. “Just catching up. Needed the distraction.”
His grin deepened. “Distraction, huh? That’s my line.”
You laughed softly. “Guess it’s contagious.”
He watched you for a moment longer than he should’ve. The sound of papers shuffling, the faint whir of the AC - everything else faded out. There was something about the curve of your back under the lamplight that made his chest ache with something dangerously close to curiosity.
“Y’know.” He said, stepping closer. “You don’t have to stay late to impress me.”
“I’m not trying to impress you, Takami‑san.”
He smirked. “Yeah? Shame.”
You rolled your eyes, looking back down at the page. “Some of us like being productive.”
He laughed quietly, moving closer. “And some of us like staring at the prettiest thing in the room.”
That earned him a look over your shoulder, half amusement. “You say that to all your assistants?”
“Only the ones who make my coffee just right.”
“Mhm.” You stood, gathering your papers. “I’m starting to understand why your PR manager has migraines.”
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest. “You wound me.”
You smiled again - one of those real ones this time, small and soft around the corners. “Maybe you deserve it.”
He stepped closer, low enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Maybe.”
The air shifted.
You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten until you could see the faint gold in his irises, the small scar under his eye. His wings rustled faintly behind him, feathers brushing against your arm as if by accident.
You swallowed. “You’re still in uniform.”
“Mm.” He hummed, eyes flicking down your figure. “So are you. I like this skirt…it’s my favorite one you wear.”
Your pulse jumped. “You’re my boss.”
“Only till five." He said. Then, quieter, “And it’s way past that.”
You should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve teased him. But instead, you tilted your head slightly, met his eyes, and said, “Unless you have something better than paperwork, I should probably finish this.”
Keigo’s grin turned smug. Dangerous.
“Oh, I’ve got something better.”
____________
The elevator to his apartment was quiet, other than the soft rustle of feathers as his wings folded close to his back. His place was exactly what you expected. Modern, warm, too clean for someone who never stayed still.
“Drink?” He asked.
“Sure.”
He poured something amber into two glasses, and you took yours, eyes scanning the skyline through the window. He leaned against the counter, studying you with that lazy half‑smile.
“You’re quiet.” You said finally. “Not like usual.”
“Mm. Too tired to talk circles.”
“So you actually can stop running your mouth.”
He grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. It’d ruin my image.”
You took a sip, smirking. “You have an image?”
He stepped closer. “Guess you haven’t been paying attention, sweetheart.”
That nickname made your pulse skip. You tried not to show it, bringing your glass back to your lips to hide the twitch of a smile.
He stepped in closer, setting his drink on the edge of the table, his fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. You felt it - that little static pull - and you knew he did too, because he didn’t look away.
You nodded toward the city lights glowing beyond the balcony glass. “Nice view.”
He hummed. “Yeah, it is.”
And he wasn’t looking at the skyline when he said it.
You laughed under your breath, taking another sip “Smooth.”
“Not tryin’ to be.” He leaned a little closer, just enough that you could smell the faint, sharp cologne he wore - something clean under the warmth of musk.
“You always this wound up after work?”
“Only when I’m covering for you and still somehow stuck managing your recruits.”
“Hey." He grinned. “I have full confidence in your ability to juggle everything I throw at you.”
“Oh, I can juggle.” You tipped your drink toward him. “But if you’re trying to butter me up just so I won’t yell at you in the morning meeting…”
“You yell at me every morning meeting.”
“You deserve it.”
He licked his bottom lip, slow. “What else do I deserve?”
The air got heavier between you, thicker than before - less playful. He was still smiling, still all warmth, but there was something else in the way his eyes dropped down your body, lingered on the hem of your skirt.
Your skin prickled. You reached out, fingers brushing the edge of his shirt. “…Is it wrong that I wanna sleep with my boss?”
His smile curved. “Not if your boss is already thinking about it.”
You scoffed, cheeks hot. But, you leaned in.
And when he kissed you - slow, teasing, a little smug - it felt exactly like him. Warm. Smooth. Effortless. The kind of trouble you didn’t even want to avoid.
But it didn’t stay soft.
His hand slid along your waist, thumb brushing just beneath the hem of your blouse like he was testing boundaries he already knew you’d let him cross. You didn’t hesitate - tilting your chin up, kissing him back harder, your fingers curling into the fabric at his chest, nails grazing muscle.
Keigo groaned low in his throat, pulled back just enough to look at you with a crooked grin. “You kiss all your bosses like this?”
You rolled your eyes, breath shallow. “Only the ones who fly.”
He laughed, then he reached down, fingers brushing your glass and set both aside on the table behind you with a quiet clink.
Before you could blink, his hands slid to your thighs. And then he was lifting you, strong hands gripping the backs of your thighs as your skirt rode up, your legs wrapping around his waist like they’d been waiting to. You gasped, arms tightening around his shoulders, and he didn’t hesitate - walking you toward the bedroom like he already knew the route blind.
The kiss deepened with every step, turned messier, hotter. His mouth moved like he wanted to taste every sound you made, like he’d been holding back for weeks and couldn’t anymore. You nipped at his lower lip. He bit yours in return.
“Fuck." He muttered against your mouth. “You’re killin’ me.”
His grip tightened, wings twitching behind him with each step like he was holding himself back from launching. You could feel his heat through your clothes, the hard press of him between your legs as he walked - your hips instinctively grinding once, teasing, and he groaned again.
Your back hit the sheets, heart hammering. For a second, you were too stunned to move. Because it was him.
Keigo Takami.
Hawks. The Pro Hero.
Your boss.
The same man whose calls you transferred. Whose calendar you managed with color-coded tabs. The one you sat across from in endless meetings, nodding while he ignored his recruit applications to flirt with you mid-email. The same one who used to wink at you during press briefings while you took notes.
And now? His mouth was on yours. His hands were on your thighs. And your body was burning.
Your heart pounded faster. You didn’t even notice the way your brows pinched, how your breath caught.
“You’re thinkin’ too hard." He murmured, nosing along your jaw. “You always think this hard when you’re about to fuck someone?”
You scoffed, blinking out of the daze. “You always this cocky before you’ve even taken off your pants?”
“Ah.” He grinned, leaning up on his forearms to look at you. “There she is.”
You reached between you, fingers going to the buttons of your blouse. Your hands were shaking, but you played it off, undoing the top one, then the next, letting him watch.
“If I’m gonna lose my job…" You said, voice steady, “I’m at least gonna enjoy it.”
He laughed again, and it was warm - low as he kissed you, catching your lip between his, deepening it until you were breathless.
Then -
Rip.
Your eyes widened as he tore your blouse open, buttons flying somewhere across the room.
“Takami!”
“I’ll buy you a new one." He muttered against your skin, already kissing down your chest, the heat of his mouth leaving you gasping. “Buy you ten.”
Then he slid down the bed, kissing as he went - slow, deliberate, teasing.
Down your ribs. Down your stomach. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your skirt.
You lifted your hips for him without a word. Then you jolted when his teeth grazed the inside of your leg, your breath stuttering out of you. His tongue followed the same path, warm and slow, licking a stripe just high enough to make your thighs twitch.
“You know how fucking hard it is…" He said between kisses, “…trying to focus when you walk into my office in these little skirts?”
Your fingers tangled in his hair instantly - tugging, rough. He groaned, mouth still moving, kissing over the sensitive skin until you were squirming. Your heels dug into his back, your legs tightening around him, and one of his feathers tickled against your shin.
You gasped quietly.
“Sorry." He said with no remorse at all, glancing up with his mouth still against your thigh. “They have a mind of their own.”
“Mm.” You rocked your hips forward, chasing friction. “Then tell them to behave.”
“I’m busy." He grinned. “Worshipping my very hot assistant.”
And then he licked another slow, deliberate stripe, right along your folds.
Your eyes rolled back. Your back arched. And you forgot entirely about the fact that he was your boss.
He doesn’t stop.
Not even when you squirm - thighs twitching, hips lifting slightly, toes curling against the sheets like your body’s trying to run from the pleasure. His arms hook under your knees, dragging you closer, rough palms spreading your thighs wider like he owns the right to. And when he groans against your cunt, it’s low and deep, a sound that vibrates straight into your core, like you’re the only thing in the world he gives a damn about.
“Hold still, sweetheart.” His voice is muffled against your skin, thick with heat.
His mouth seals over your clit, tongue working in those same slow, unrelenting circles - tight, practiced, maddening - like he’s tracing his initials into your insides. Every flick feels wetter than the last. Messier. Hungrier. And he moans into it - into you - like he can’t help himself.
It shudders through you.
Your hands grip his hair, your back arching, chest heaving like you can’t get enough air.
“K-Keigo - oh my….fuck -”
Your moans splinter apart, tumbling from your mouth while your thighs start to clamp around his head - desperate, trembling. He groans like he likes that too, like he wants more of it, and the sound is obscene.
His whole body is warm.
His skin. His breath. His mouth. The quiet rustle of feathers behind him, twitching every time you whine. His wings twitch when your hips rock against his face.
It spreads.
Heat, thick and low, curling up from the base of your spine and blooming outward. You can’t tell where you end and he begins - it’s just tongue and lips and pressure - so perfect it feels cruel.
“Shit….shit, Keigo.”
He hums again, like he’s satisfied. Like he knew you were close.
But he pulls back at the last second.
Your whole body jolts - your orgasm teetering right at the edge, breath caught in your throat.
“Mm-mm.” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, tongue darting out to taste the skin there. “Not yet, pretty thing.”
You whimper, one hand clawing at his hair. “Keigo, please -”
“You’ll come when I say so.” He smirks, voice a low hum against your leg. “Don't you want to be a good little assistant and do what I say when I say?”
He dips back down - mouth hot, tongue insistent, circling your clit again with just enough pressure to make you cry out, arching so hard your spine curves off the bed. You’re right there - dizzy, clenching, grinding against his mouth like it’s instinct.
And then he stops again. Just enough to make you whine.
“Keigo…please, please, please…”
“Alright, fine. Go on, sweetheart." He mutters, voice muffled, lips brushing your clit. “Come for me. Come all over my tongue.”
You don’t even get the chance to answer.
It hits fast, harder than you expect - your thighs squeezing tight around his head, your body seizing up as your orgasm rips through you. You pant his name, nails raking down his scalp, your hips grinding helplessly against his face as he groans into you like he never wants to come up for air.
He licks it all up - every drop of slick, every broken sound you make - slow and greedy, like he's memorizing the taste of you.
When you finally go limp, thigh muscles twitching, he pulls back slowly, reluctantly. His lips are pink, glistening. His chest rises and falls in deep, uneven breaths.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then tilts his head, grinning, cocky.
“Still thinkin’ about agency rules?” He asks, voice hoarse but teasing.
You can barely breathe, let alone glare. So you just shake your head.
“Good.” He leans forward, kissing the inside of your knee.
He rises, smooth and effortless, standing at the foot of the bed as he strips. First the belt. Then the shirt. Then the pants, slow and deliberate.
You watch him with half lidded eyes - your body still humming, legs weak, mouth parted.
He’s all muscle and lean heat, every line of him graceful but solid. His wings stretch and fold behind him as he crawls onto the bed, lips brushing yours. You taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into his mouth.
Then you tug him down to you, roll him onto his back. He lets you - lets you climb over him, straddle him, bare thighs bracketing his hips.
“Takin’ control, huh?” He says.
You shrug. "Maybe I want a turn being boss."
He groans softly, hands sliding up your thighs like instinct, palms rough and reverent.
“Good, it's hot when you boss me around.” His voice is hoarse, but still light. “Gonna write that into your next performance review.”
You laugh and reach down, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. He’s already hard and twitching for you, thick and dragging heat along your palm.
“Better give me five stars." You murmur, watching his face as you drag the head of his cock through your slick folds - once, twice, deliberately slow.
The wet sound of it makes him suck in a breath, hips jolting up just a little like he can’t help it.
“Fuck.” He breathes, teeth gritting.
You smirk, rolling your hips forward so the head catches at your entrance, but you don’t sink down yet. Not fully. You hold there, pressed against him, grinding just enough to make him twitch again.
“What’s wrong?” You tease. “You looked so smug a second ago.”
His hands flex against your thighs, but he doesn’t force it - lets you take your time, lets you draw it out. But his jaw’s tight now, his abs tense, breath shallow.
“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mutters, voice strained.
“No." You say, blinking all innocent as you finally start to sink down - inch by slow inch. “Just wanna watch you squirm.”
And god, he does.
His head tips back, lips parting as you take him in. The stretch is deep, hot, your thighs shaking already as your body adjusts to the thickness of him. He feels impossibly big from this angle, pushing into you slow and steady, filling you so deep your vision blurs for a second.
He groans low. “Holy shit. Look at you…” His hands grip your hips, tight now, like he’s holding back from flipping you right there.
You bottom out slowly, thighs trembling as you seat yourself fully - your body hugging him tight, pulsing around him.
After a moment, you shift your weight - grinding your hips in a slow circle once you're fully seated, and it draws a groan out of Keigo that sounds like it’s been pulled from the center of his chest.
“Fuck." He mutters, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel so good.”
You start to move, slow at first. A slow rock. A grind. The slick sound of it fills the room, punctuated by the soft creak of the bed and the shallow catch of his breath. His hands slide up your waist again, thumbs stroking over your skin.
“That’s it." He murmurs, breath hot. “Just like that, baby. Ride me.”
You move again, a little harder this time, the wet slide of him inside you hitting deeper with every grind. His head tips back, exposing his throat, and the city light through the window casts over his whole body. His chest rises and falls fast now, sweat glinting off his collarbones, his wings twitching behind him like they’re too overwhelmed to stay still.
“You okay?” You murmur, teasing, your hands planted on his chest for balance as you roll your hips again, harder now - sharp enough to make his breath catch.
“Okay?” He laughs, but it’s strained. “I’m fuckin’ great. I’m-” He cuts himself off with a groan as you slam down a little faster, a little rougher. “God, you’re somethin’ else…”
You grin, grinding down again, feeling the head of his cock drag against that spongy spot inside you. You clench around him just to hear the choked sound he makes - and god, it’s worth it.
You bounce harder - louder now, messier, slick and wet and echoing in the dark. His hands slide to your hips, but he doesn’t take control - not yet. He just lets you use him, eyes locked on the place where your bodies meet like it’s his new religion.
“Look at you…” He breathes. “Dripping all over my cock. Fuckin’ made for it.”
You moan, grinding down against him, chasing friction where his skin is hot between your thighs. His thumb brushes your clit again, teasing, circling, and you stutter - pace faltering for a second as the heat builds faster.
"There it is." He pants, smirking.
You can only manage a choked moan. Then you reach out, dragging your nails gently along the base of his wing - just to feel him jolt.
He hisses through his teeth, hips bucking up into you without warning, a curse catching in his throat.
“Shit. Baby, don’t…”
“Don’t what?” You hum, doing it again. “This?”
“Fuck.” He groans, one hand slamming against the mattress for control.
And that’s when it happens.
He loses it a little - hips starting to move beneath you, fucking up into you now, harder and rougher. The bed shudders under the rhythm, his wings flaring out wide behind him as he grips your hips like he can’t take it anymore.
“You wanna tease?” He huffs, voice wrecked. “Alright, sweetheart. Your turn to squirm.”
He sits up without warning, mouth crashing to yours, one arm banding around your back as the other grabs your ass, holding you flush against him as he drives up into you.
You cry out into his mouth, nails clawing into his shoulders as he grinds into you deep.
The angle hits different now - deeper, sharper - dizzying. You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and he groans like it’s killing him.
“You gonna come for me again?” He whispers against your lips, his voice hot and cocky and almost gentle. “My pretty little assistant gonna paint my cock white?”
You whimper, nodding, your movements getting sloppier now, more desperate. That coil in your gut tightens again - too fast, too much - and he feels it. Feels you start to clamp down on him, walls fluttering, thighs shaking.
It crashes over you hot and blinding. He moans right through it, watching your face as your whole body clenches around him, hips grinding down as you ride it out with his name broken and breathless on your tongue.
He follows you a second later, his head falling forward into your neck, hips stuttering as he groans through gritted teeth. Hot and deep and full. His whole body tight, then shaking, then softening.
You both stay like that for a long moment - breathing hard, skin damp, limbs tangled.
His forehead pressed against your shoulder, arms still around your waist.
“That's promotion worthy.” He mumbles eventually, lips brushing your collarbone.
You laugh weakly. “Good, I could use the raise."
"I'll give you anything you want."
You stay there for a while - sprawled across his chest, flushed and slick, heart still beating hard against his. His arms are loose around you now, fingertips drawing lazy circles down your spine. His cock is still inside you, twitching slightly, warm and deep.
Neither of you speaks.
Until he shifts.
Keigo curls an arm around your waist and rolls, flipping you underneath him in one smooth motion. Then he lifts his weight up onto his knees, rolls his hips once, slow and thick, and your body jolts from the inside out.
“Still with me, pretty girl?” He murmurs.“Or did I fuck you too dumb already?”
You try to answer, but it comes out like a gasp - your hips tilting up into his on instinct as he starts to move again. A slow, steady rhythm. Deep. Smooth.
His eyes never leave your face.
“You’re so beautiful.” He groans, one hand running up the outside of your thigh. “So fuckin’ sweet like this.”
You shiver when his fingers hook under your knee, and then he lifts your leg again, drapes it over his shoulder, leans down and kisses your calf so gently it feels like a tease.
Then his mouth opens and he sucks a little mark into your skin, just under the bend of your knee, his tongue warm and slow.
You moan and he smiles against your skin.
“That’s it.” He pulls back enough to look at you, eyes heavy. “Give me those little sounds. I need ’em.”
He shifts his weight and grabs your other thigh now, firm and possessive, and throws your other leg up to join the first, fully folding you in half beneath him.
Your breath catches. You can feel everything. The stretch. The depth. The burn.
Keigo groans. “Fuck, baby…this angle.” He huffs, cock dragging along your walls. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight. Feels too fuckin’ good…”
His hands press down against the backs of your thighs, holding them in place, keeping you folded. He’s over you now, panting, eyes dark and hungry as he starts to thrust harder. The rhythm picks up again - thick, slick, loud. Skin meeting skin. The wet sound of your cunt sucking him in, over and over.
And your little noises come back fast. Those whimpers. Those soft cries. The hitched little gasps that escape every time his cock slams deep, bottoming out right against that spot that makes your eyes roll.
“That’s my girl.” He doesn’t smirk this time - he just watches you with a raw kind of awe. “Been thinkin’ about this since the moment I saw you walk into my office.”
He’s not teasing now. He means it.
“My perfect little assistant." He murmurs, thrusting harder. “Knew you’d feel like this. Knew you’d look like this. Cryin’ on my cock.”
You whine, louder, and his head drops, mouth open against the inside of your thigh as he grinds into you, eyes flicking up to watch your face.
“Come on, baby.” He licks his lips. “Just one more.”
You don’t even hear yourself when you come again. It tears through you hard - hotter than the last, sharper. You clamp down around him, thighs shaking where they’re still braced over his shoulders, and everything goes white at the edges. You see stars.
Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out at first. Just a broken breath. A gasp. Your hands claw at the sheets, head tipped back against the pillow.
And he follows fast.
Keigo drops his weight into the thrust, buries himself as deep as you’ll take him - and groans into the curve of your neck, low in his throat. His hips stutter, and he doesn’t try to pull out.
He just comes inside you again. Thick, full, and deep.
You twitch under him - overstimulated, hips jerking away - and he groans at the feel of it. His cock still pulsing, still buried inside you, twitching with every tiny movement.
"Sorry, baby.” He mutters against your skin.
You flinch again.
He smirks, just a little. Can’t help it. “Too much?”
You nod, barely.
And that’s when he finally pulls out. Slow. Gentle. Careful not to press too hard as your body tenses again at the sensitivity.
He looks down for a second - at the mess between your thighs, at his pearly cum leaking out of your folds and it hits him all at once.
Maybe I should’ve worn a condom.
Yeah.
Probably.
He’ll worry about it later.
Keigo eases off the bed and pads into the bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a warm washcloth and kneels beside you.
“Hey,” He murmurs softly, brushing your thigh. “Lemme clean you up, yeah?”
You hum in response, barely coherent, and he’s already wiping between your legs, slow and careful.
When he’s done, he tosses the cloth into a laundry basket and leans over to his dresser, pulling out the first clean shirt he can find. Faded, soft, way too big.
He slides it over your head gently, guiding your arms through the sleeves.
“There we go." He whispers, smoothing the hem down over your stomach.
"Thanks." You murmur, voice quiet and hoarse.
“’Course.”
Then he grabs a pair of his sweats - gray, loose - and crouches again, lifting your hips and tugging them on for you, adjusting the waistband so it sits snug on your hips.
He kisses you once. Then again. Slower the second time, warm and full.
And then he finally stands, dragging on a pair of boxers without ceremony. Wings stretching once behind him, then settling.
You watch him as he climbs into bed, settles behind you, and pulls you against his chest like it’s instinct.
No hesitation. No space between. Just warmth.
Chest against your back, lips pressing into your shoulder as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in.
“You good?” He whispers.
You nod once, curled into him.
His thumb brushes your hip. And that’s it.
He exhales, then smirks.
Yeah, his assistant is too good to him.
____________
It’s a slow afternoon at the agency. Paperwork mostly. PR check-ins. A minor debrief about some clean-up operation. Boring, quiet stuff.
Keigo’s sitting at his desk, feet kicked up. His fingers tap against his tablet screen as he scrolls through his calendar, mostly zoning out - until he sees something that makes him blink.
MEDITATION - 4:30 p.m.
He stares at it.
No other notes. No meeting room. No details.
Just Meditation.
His eyes narrow slightly. Then he taps out of it, drags hismself from the chair, and heads out of his office.
You’re at your desk, typing something. He leans against the doorframe. Arms crossed. Head tilted.
“Hey.”
You glance up, cool and polite. “Takami-san.”
“Quick question." He says, lifting his tablet and wiggling it slightly. “What’s this meditation session on my calendar?”
You blink. Then smile. Small, sly. “Scheduled stress relief.”
He pauses. Still leaning there, watching you. “Stress relief?”
You nod once. Then - slow, deliberate - you cross your legs under the desk, and then uncross them again. And in the motion, he catches the flash of lace between your thighs.
Lacy black panties. Under that pencil skirt.
Keigo goes still.
Then he grins.
“Oh." He says softly, licking his bottom lip like it’s a reflex. “Right. Yeah. That kind of meditation.”
You glance back at your screen like you’ve already moved on. “Thought it’d help with your performance.”
“Oh, it does.” He pushes off the doorframe, stepping in closer now, lowering his voice. “Might need a few extra sessions, though.”
“I can make room in your schedule.”
He hums, eyes flicking briefly down your body.
“Perfect." He says. “Make sure it’s on my calendar tomorrow too.”
You nod once. “Recurring appointment?”
“Every damn day." He says, already smirking as he backs toward his office door, wings flaring just a little for show. “Gotta stay centered, right?”
“Right." You echo.
And he’s still smiling when he closes the door behind him - knowing full well he’s not getting anything done for the rest of the day.
hawks’ ex tells the internet that he has a small package, and you make the mistake of teasing him about it. yeah, he’s gonna have to prove you wrong !!
request summary. so about that hawks smut … I’m thinking the reader calls his dick small, and he proves it isn’t, so size kink and he’s really cocky about it THE WHOLE TIME.
content. afab!reader, pro-hero!reader, rough oral (m!receiving), size kink, brat-taming, mostly praise with slight degradation, is this ooc? idk, doggy, mating press, little bit of cunni and cum-eating
uh-oh, PR nightmare — hawks’ ex-girlfriend slanders him for having a small package! this wasn’t reported by any particularly reputable news sources, of course, but it still made the rounds on social media, especially because his ex is a pro-hero.
you were at his penthouse when the posts started coming through, talking about plans for your agencies. discussing business over drinks and a home-cooked meal in the private intimacy of his own apartment is a bit less than professional, but you’ve known hawks for a long time by now. you’re a U.A. graduate, so you have entirely different backgrounds, but the two of you get along well … and you think he’s cute.
“all the shit that’s going on right now, and this is what people are worried about? yeah, we’re done for.” he groans, practically smacking his phone onto the table. he takes a long, dramatic gulp of sake before turning his attention back to you, and you’re trying to hold back a shit-eating grin.
“yeah, but .. how small are we talking?”
oh, IF LOOKS COULD KILL. “you actually believe it?” he pouts, setting his cup of sake onto the table with a satisfying thunk. you’re just teasing, but you can’t help yourself.
“it’s fine, you’re rich and you’re cute … and you’re like, what? 5’8”? no one would expect you to have—.”
“yeah? you wanna find out?”
⋯
you have to give him credit — it’s much bigger than you expected, and god, is it pretty. and now you’re on your knees in front of his bed, and he’s fucking your face like he has something to prove, even if he’s already proved his point. he respects you, so he eased you into it with possessive kisses and skilled fingering, but he purposely didn’t let you cum.
your skintight top is long gone, your makeup is already ruined, and you’re well aware that he’s too big for you. his hand is under your jaw so he can feel his thick length sliding up and down your throat, and his heavy balls are obscenely slapping against your cute, tear-soaked face with each desperate thrust.
“I wanted to be nicer to you, baby, but you were so fucking mean to me … this is what mean sluts get, yeah? but you probably like it .. you probably love it.”
you look up at him with tears in your angel eyes, spit bubbling around his cock, and he has to pull out that second or he’s going to cum. “why are you looking at me like that? you okay, baby bird? was I too rough with you?” he asks, softly running his thumb over your cheekbone, tilting your face up to his until your eyes meet.
you pout, shaking your head as you wipe your mouth. “that was fine and all, but when are you going to fuck me?”
his mouth drops open. he did not expect you to be this bratty in bed, but he fucking loves it. he thought that his first time with you would be so much softer than this (if he was ever lucky enough to have sex with you), but he’s stressed and he’s frustrated, and your attitude certainly doesn’t help.
“can’t wait, huh? your pretty little cunt needs my cock that badly? you sure it’s big enough for you?”
“why don’t you use it so we can find out?”
he scoffs, easily picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, smacking your ass as you get on your knees into a nice arch for him. in his heart, he wants to take you in missionary, or in a mating press, and fuck, he wants to eat you out, but there will be time for that later. right now, he just needs to fuck that attitude out of you before it destroys his ego. he doesn’t care about what anyone else thinks about his body, but you? he needs your validation, and he needs it now.
“such a fucking brat. you’ve been wanting this, angel dove? you think I don’t notice the way you’re always looking at me?”
“yeahh, hawksy, maybe a little.”
he rolls his eyes, placing a hand in your hair and shoving your face into his plush pillows. you yelp into a soft laugh, lifting your knees one by one so he can slip your skirt and panties off. he’s gonna break you.
“you’re real confident for someone who couldn’t even take three fingers.”
“you didn’t get the right angle.”
“yeah? is this the right angle?”
he slips inside your tight heat in one smooth motion, making you lurch forward and dig your nails into the mattress. he pulls you back into him, settling deeper inside of you while your eyes almost roll back. he’s big, and most of all he’s thick, and it hurts so good. you’re just wet enough for him to be able to slip in and out comfortably, fucking you deep and slow in tentative strokes. “ohh, fuck, kei.” you moan, biting into his pillow that deliciously smells like his shampoo and the balmy sweetness of his skin.
his wings twitch and you can hear them flutter from behind you. he’s trying to play it cool, but hearing you say his name always affects him. he takes his hand out of your hair, spreading his fingers and softly running his palm down your back, grabbing your hips instead, greedily squishing the plush of your ass.
he’s struggling to drag himself through your velvety walls as hard as he wants because of the size difference, so his deft fingers find your clit, rubbing in gentle circles that have you practically purring.
“feels good?”
“ah - mmm.” you whine, spreading your legs wider, finally starting to push back so that you can gently meet his thrusts, and it almost kills him. “doin’ so good for me, baby … fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, you feel so good.” he praises, feeling your pretty little pussy squeeze around him with each syllable, your ass bouncing back against his toned v-line with each push and pull.
you’d both be lying if you said that you weren’t close. the carnal attraction and all of the anticipation has your stomach in knots, and each thread is being meticulously undone by keigo’s precise rhythm.
“keii,” you cry, “it’s big .. it feels like you’re in my tummy - uugh.”
“yeah, angel? good thing you’re so wet for me then; you get like this for anyone else, or does your pussy just love me that much?”
“she loves you, kei,” you sniffle, “I love when you’re fucking me.”
“good girl, much better.”
so much for your attitude. he fucks into you harder and faster, big hands gripping your waist, making you cry and whine and gush around him. you’re drooling onto the sheets and wetting his pillow, leaving black smudges of mascara and eyeliner. you’re a mess, and he almost feels bad, but he loves it too much.
“c’mere, baby, let me see you.”
he pulls out for a split second, which makes you claw and grasp at him, your brows drawn as you pout, and he flips you onto your back.
“atta girl, there we go.”
he can dote on you much easier if he’s facing you.
he pushes back inside, both of you groaning together, your pretty eyes nearly crossing. hawks is way too obsessed with you to even consider wearing protection, so you can feel every single inch of him in mind-numbing detail. he gently carves his way deeper into your soaked pussy, his tip pushing against your cervix and staying there for a couple of seconds.
he exhales heavily; he had never been close like this to anyone before, and you yelp, wrapping your legs around his slutty waist.
“too deep…” you mewl, hardly able to think, much less speak. your nails are dug into his strong biceps, and you can feel his cock throb inside of you.
“awwww, baby, I know.” he purrs, and he slowly pulls his hips back again, shivering at how your pussy squeezes him and doesn’t wanna let go. he’d stay buried inside of you for the rest of his life if he could.
he leans down to lick and suck at your chest, snapping his hips into yours. you moan like a bitch in heat when he takes one of your nipples into his warm mouth, gently biting around it before switching sides. he sucks softly, one of his hands finding your clit again and you arch into him, gasping for breath. you’re filled entirely, he’s bullying your sweet spot, and the knot in your stomach is hanging onto its last thread.
“is it too much for you, love dove?” he whispers, though he already knows the answer.
“yes, kei! you were right, it’s big, it’s too big for me .. but it feels so fucking good, please fuck me harder, keigo, please.”
“fuck, you’re insatiable. you’re lucky that I like you so much.” he smiles at you, half-sadistic and half-lovesick, leaning over and completely caging your small body underneath of his. he runs a hand through his pretty golden hair before folding both of your thighs up into your chest. you swallow hard, just laying there, watching, in awe of him like he’s some sort of god.
and he just gives it all to you. fucking you deep and fast, his thumb never leaving your clit as he pushes down on it and circles as much as the position will allow. you’re crying out his name, feeling all of his weight on top of you as he rests his head in your neck and you hold his pretty face, loose feathers falling onto the sheets around you.
“c’mon angel, you’re close, I want you to fucking cum for me.” his voice is low in your ear, surprisingly soft.
“yes daddy, you feel so fucking good, I’m cumming for you, I’m — !! ”
fuck. he slips out as soon as he can, instantly spilling loads and loads of his hot, sticky cum onto your abs. he catches his breath for half a second before diving down, sucking on your clit and fingering your cunt to make sure that he doesn’t ruin your orgasm, still humping the mattress and leaking a pearly mess onto his bed. he’s completely unfazed by his own seed that’s dripping into your folds .. he just laps at you like a kitten while you fist his hair, grinding your clit on his hot tongue, whining and trying to draw your high out as long as possible.
“fuck, I wanted it inside.” you pout. “you fucking owe me.” you yank his head back and he licks his bottom lip, beaming up at you.
“you’re the first girl that I’ve ever fucked without protection, and that still wasn’t good enough for you?” he teases.
“hey! I’m on birth control; I’m not that irresponsible.” you tell him, which is probably something that you should have mentioned earlier.
“aw, baby, you don’t wanna nest up with me?”
“save that for when you take me on an actual date.”
he pretends to think for a moment, drawing his brows and resting his head on your thigh.
“you free on saturday?”
⋯
you wake up in his bed the next morning, all bleary-eyed and sore, only to find your phone blowing up while keigo is in the shower. your friends, both pro-heroes and not, are gossiping and giggling in group chats about none other than hawks, again. you groan, annoyed at first and then slightly panicking when you scroll down and see just a glimpse of the photo that caused all of this …
HAWKS. NAKED.
and he posted it on his OFFICIAL account. sitting on the edge of his bed, from his collarbones down. legs spread wide, his pretty cock hanging heavily between his thighs. it’s obviously him because of his wings, and he looks like an angel from a renaissance painting.
herohawks yeah, it’s small :( .. luckily my new girlfriend likes me for my personality :(
when did he even take these pictures? was it before or after — ugh, he’s such a BRAT. another PR nightmare incoming, and the internet in absolute shambles — and, wait … GIRLFRIEND?
先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love
notes. i’m sorry idk how to write him :c thanks for the request !!
[ @slutsenpai ⨯ my masterlist ] — likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason
A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist
Chapter 2. Savanaclaw Part 2.
Going to sleep with a lot on your mind is becoming a bad habit, but no one can blame you since life really is testing you lately.
Crowley just handed you the job of a private eye without the paycheck, where you had to investigate some accidents he didn’t want to for whatever reason. Which is annoying enough on its own, gee thanks Crowley, but last time you had your dreams like this with Riddle’s tyranny, Ace almost got murdered like the tragically doomed Alice had before Winston saved her. Temporarily. Heck you spent the morning after your very first dream painting roses just like Alice.
If that was a weird prophetic secret dream code for a tragedy in the making, you were sure that your new extra-no-credit assignment was bound to have some bad things happen. But what was the question. Your bare bones understanding of what happened to the Queen Lioness meant that whatever warning was there you needed to find it without traumatising a lion.
Or having her maul you to death in vengeance, that too. You still remember Winston choking you out and that’s a no-repeat please and thank you.
So as you drift off to sleep, you resolve to not intervene as much as possible, observe, maybe stay out of things and you’d be golden!
And that was the plan until you got tackled.
The cave you stepped into reminded you of the one you peeked in on last night. One again, literally everything is black, white and grey, from the rock walls to the grayscale sunset you can see outside the cave entrance. But most notably, even with the darkness, it’s pretty empty in here.
Besides the soft sound of the wind blowing through the cave openings, there’s nobody here.
Which is weird, but it does play into your plan to be a passive observer. All you really have to do is find where the action is, watch and disturb anyone. No way you could fuck that up…
You incorrectly originally thought.
One second you were exiting the cave into the open to just mind your own damn business and before you could even fully leave, you were body-slammed hard into the rock floor. The air is literally launched out of your lungs so hard, it hurts to breathe as the super heavy weight climbs off you, to circle you like an apex predator circling their prey. Despite the pain slowly dissipating clouding your judgement, you’re pretty positive that she’s the lioness you’re here to ‘interact’ with.
Which is easier said than done since she’s quite literally growling like she’s ready to gut you, and her glare isn’t helping matters.
<Who are you>” The lioness threatens, from tone alone, you can tell she’s absolutely suspicious of you and, given that she’s probably THE Lion Queen in a humanless kingdom, you’re probably about as trustworthy as Crowley is on a good day.
Leaving you to talk your way out of this, “I, u-uh… “I‘m _______!”
The fierce glare in her eyes narrows that much further, sending another shot of adrenaline down your spine as she continues speaking, <What are you, and what is a creature like you doing in the Pridelands?>, her voice still deathly cold.
“I’m human, but you’ve probably never seen one before me besides that one time..” You stammer out, trying to explain yourself before she decides you’d make a better late night snack than a conversation partner. “And l-look, I don’t really know why I’m here but I promise I’m not here to do you any harm.”
She stalks that much closer to you, making you scramble back equally in fear, <Then explain to me how the pure coincidence-> You recognize that tone of raw suspicion, having been on the delivery end of it with Crowley, you were probably not helping your case. < -of your sudden return right at the moment my son and his best friend go missing?>
Well, how were you supposed to answer that you didn’t even know about that!? “I, um…” You can feel the panic setting in as you mull over a somewhat believable answer, because what could you respond to that? “I don’t know… Can’t it just be a coincidence?”
<No.> Again, she stalks closer and even worse, you can feel the rocky wall hit your back as she nears you with her fangs bared. <Because I find it incredibly suspicious that I hear my son has gone missing and then you appear.>
“Your majesty, no offense, I literally just got here and I am basically invisible to everyone but you?” You try to rationalize, “And even though I would be suspicious of me if I were in your…paws, but there has to be someone you thought had done this before you even saw me.”
You watch the threatening glare turn into a look of contemplation, and after a few moments of tense silence she answers, hesitantly, <There maybe…another…>
“And I know I’m already super suspicious,” But you’re going to talk your way out of this one way or another, and the blame game is a good start, “But who would that be?”
She hesitates for a moment before answering <My brother in law, Scar.>
Her brother-in-law… the one destined to kill her husband in an attempt to have her… “HE DID IT! IT WAS HIM!”
<And why should I believe that?>
“Because, well, long story short I’m from a far off future where your life story is probably in several history books,” Never did you think that you would be explaining time travel and the imminent terrible, and possibly avoidable, future to a lion in the past in a dream in another universe, but here you are trying to convince her that’s real for some reason… “And basically, it’s recorded that Scar, who we call the King of Beasts, really wants to kill your son and succeeded in trying to kill your husband because he’s romantically obsessed with you.”
Silence.
You watch the lioness before you transition from confusion to shock to confusion again to concern before she quietly utters, “Perhaps you weren’t a threat after all, you are clearly insane.”
“Hey! I’m literally telling you exactly what I know!”
<And I’m telling you that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I can believe that Scar wants to kill Mufasa and maybe Simba. I’ll even admit that I had a feeling that he’d try to kill Mufasa, but not because he’s infatuated with me. That is the ridiculous part.>
Once again you agree, but still you’re going to try. “ Yeah, I know. But it’s the truth. He’s going to try to kill the people you love because he’s obsessed with you. It sounds so unbelievable, but it’s the truth.”
<It is unbelievable, because why would he still be in love with me when I rejected him when we were teenagers?!>
Hold it, wait a damn second- “Hang on, you KNEW he liked you a little too much!?! And you WEREN’T suspicious about his behavior towards you even once after!?!”
<Because I thought he got over it. And who in their right mind would hold onto a infatuation that long.>
“Well first, he didn’t get over it. Second, he might not be in his right mind,” You can't believe that you are literally arguing with a lion right now. Hell, are all lions humanoid or otherwise as stubborn as old donkeys? This entire trip to another universe is going to push you into a psyche ward when you get out, no doubts about that. “And third, this back and forth would be so much easier if I knew your name.”
<I am called Sarabi. And once again that is ridiculous.>
“Okay, Sarabi. What part of it is ridiculous? You just said that you had a ‘feeling’ that he was going to try and kill your husband ‘AGAIN’?!”
<That is not the part I don’t get. What I don’t get is the part about him being ‘obsessed with me?!>
“I don’t get how it works either!? I’m just telling you that’s WHY!” This is going functionally nowhere, you sigh in complete and utter annoyance before refocusing, “Look, I understand your denial but seriously just humor me? I wouldn’t lie about any of this, and trust me, it’s probably better to not believe me but just remember what I said. Please, just in case?”
Honestly, nothing but empty words and blind faith being the entire crux of your argument and you can’t help the discomfort in the silence, as she thinks over your plea. Maybe she'd say no and still maul you, and maybe she’d say yes and you both are in for a mental breakdown because she reacts to it with attempts to avoid it like Winston.
Genuinely, no matter the choice it has the potential to result in a bad outcome for the both of you.
So she’s at least going to humor you and partially believe you. That’s not as comforting as you thought it would be, “So do you believe me?”
<No, of course not. What you’ve just explained is the definition of insanity.> Well, no arguments there, <But there may be some truth in your crazy ramblings.>
Eh, it’s the middle ground, you’ll take it. “Thank you, even if you’re just humoring me.”
<Don’t thank me yet, as far I know I’ve been talking to my shadow> Well, that’s-
<My, my, trouble in paradise? To think my dear brother has driven you to the point of talking to your own shadow, Sarabi.> Another figure slinks out of the shadows, this one monochrome unlike Sarabi but you’d see the face of this lion nearly every morning. Safe to say he needs no introduction but regardless-
Sarabi thankfully doesn’t ask him if he can see you, which really would be bad, and instead scowls still just as regal <I was wondering where you’d disappeared to, Scar.> You can hear the angry growl in Sarabi’s voice as she spoke, perhaps your warning struck her deeper than she’d let you see.
The lion that will one day be dubbed the King of Beasts, cocky, proud and annoyingly punchable. Despite his bestial features, you swear you’ve seen someone wearing that same infuriating expression. Which when you think about it, is incredibly unfitting for when the crown prince has gone missing. <How sweet you were thinking of me.>
<Not anymore than I would like.> Sarabi’s expression returns to that deadly poise that scared the shit out of you moments before. Probably because of what you just told her, her suspicion of him is high. <Where have you been the last few hours.>
You watch as Scar circles her like he would his prey, Sarabi doesn’t humor him remaining unbothered and still as he continues his spiel of plausible deniability, <Must you be so skeptical, can’t I just come and go as I please?>
<When I know you have a history of sneaking off to consort with traitors and enemies of the Pride. No.> Sarabi’s composure slips to reveal hatred and anger, the threat of her child possibly being sent to his death, <Especially since, I want to tear your throat out for sending my child to the Elephant Graveyard.>
You expect Scar to flinch, he doesn’t, instead continuing the conversation unbothered as if the accusation of sending the crown prince to his potential death in front of his mother was him accidentally bumping into someone. <There's the temper I love, but what makes you think that I have all people would lure your dear-> Scar says ‘dear’ with so much venom that he might as well have insulted him, <son to his demise.>
<Because you’re the only lion on the rock that would ever say so. No other member of the pride would ever utter that place, let alone to my cub.>
<You can’t fault me for the kids curiosity, I would never have sent my poor nephew to that dreadful place.> So he has no intention of admitting to it, something you probably will have to get used to. Whether this is predicting your tragic love life or your undercover investigation, something told you that this would be a part of your imminent future again.
<Scar, you may have been able to fool Mufasa into thinking the worst thing you’re capable of is not liking Simba, but I never forgot you selling us out all those years ago.> Maybe it was because of what you said, because now she changes the angle of her accusal, <I still remember how angry you got when I rejected you, when I married Mufasa and before and after I gave birth to Simba. You aren’t to be trusted, and I know you have something to do with Simba going there of all places.>
Despite that and her growing hostility, Scar destroys the fragile boundary of personal space and lays his head against her, practically snuggling her. <Oh yes, I remember those days. When I was destined to be king and you were a young lioness that smelled of duck flowers.>
Sarabi recoils like he set her on fire, darting away towards the cave entrance. <Get off me.>
Normally when you have to do that, you have to play nice and act like you wanted to squirm or something, always so scared of the fall out, you can’t help the wince of panic at her cold rejection and expect anger or rage, but Scar doesn’t react like you expected. <Since then you’ve gotten so cold.>
You follow them both out of the cave into the dark grey night, this entire experience had been weird beyond measure, but this feels a different level of strange. Every accusation isn’t responded with anger like the Queen of Hearts had when Winston tried to put his foot down, but this feels more like banter, as if Scar didn’t care as much that she would react like this. It’s discomforting.
So even when Sarabi says <I can’t imagine why, maybe the betrayal that nearly got all of us killed because I fell for Mufasa instead of you?>
Scar’s lack of a reaction just keeps that discomforting feeling going, <And so stubborn. You used to be so much more fun before the brat, no, before Mufasa stole your heart from me> And there it is. The proof that even if the situation was still the same even if the circumstances were different.
<Seriously…> You watch Sarabi’s eyes narrow before glancing back over at you. As if she planned on watering the seed that you’d planted into her head, <You haven’t let that go?>
<Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.>
Sarabi grumbles, <I understand you feeling slighted that Mufasa took what you think is yours–>
It’s only here Scar’s expression changes from that annoyingly cocky expression to bitterness and resentment, <You have no idea.>
<-But you need to let this all go.> Sarabi’s voice hardens, losing all its softness as it’s replaced with cut-throat seriousness, <This grudge is doing none of us any favors. The fact remains that back then, I never felt anything towards you other than camaraderie that you threw away when you betrayed us. Mufasa is the king, Simba is his heir and that won’t change no matter how much you want it to. Nor will my opinion on you.>
Scar scoffs, his tone rife with bitterness, <You never know what could happen, one day the invincible king could fall and a new king not born of his blood will be on the throne.> He advances, closing the gap between them as he makes what has to be a threat and a promise.
Even with her annoyance bleeding through her untouchable demeanour, Sarabi <Scar->
A roar echoes through the air, louder and deeper from the one that one Sarabi made moments earlier and somehow much friendlier, like the sound of someone coming home. Down below off of the rock and down into the grey-tone grasses of the Savannah, a lion and its cub return. No guesses needed, it’s Simba and Mufasa.
You watch the clear relief form on Sarabi’s face as she’s reassured her family is really safe before it morphs back to her regal grace, <No matter how much you wish otherwise, it’s like I said Scar, whether you like it or not, as long as those two live, they remain more deserving of the throne than you will ever be. And as long as one of them rules, I will never bow my head for you. I suggest you learn to move on and accept it. If you desire kingship so badly, find your own lands to rule over, find a lioness to call your queen and make a pride of your own. Stop obsessing over something you’ll never obtain.>
With that Sarabi bounds down Pride Rock, not sparing Scar even a good bye as she reunites with her family. From this distance you can’t make out words, but you don’t need to. From here, even in the monochrome, you watch a lion family reunite. And frankly, it’s quite sweet. Simba receives a disciplinary knock on the head for his recklessness before Sarabi affectionately nuzzles him before doing a longer, much more lovingly nuzzle with Mufasa. It’s adorable, frankly, to see a genuine family full of genuine love. It’s painful to see though, knowing the chance of it could all fall apart very soon.
And you’re standing right next to the reason.
No matter what Sarabi could say to try and prevent this situation, you could tell from the look of pure hatred Scar has on his face while you watch the happy family reunite, all alive and well, you can tell that this love won’t last long if he has any say in it. Despite Sarabi’s disbelief that Scar wouldn’t attempt to kill Mufasa solely because of her, you’ve seen that raw jealousy on many a face up until this point, and there was no denying the look of clear murderous intent seared into your head a less than a month ago so whatever she hoped or wouldn’t believe would happen might currently be forming whatever evil Scar is plotting in his head.
Your vision blurs as you watch Scar slink into the darkness, but you don’t exactly have time to concern yourself with that right now.
Because morning has arrived, and you have to investigate someone else’s nefarious plot….
Y’know it’s times like this, experiences like this remind you that a lot of the laws back home… are great.
Normally when people try to throw a game back home, maybe they’ll ‘accidentally’ shove an opponent, or kick out their legs, or maybe some rough–housing gone wrong. In any case, these accidents wouldn’t be major and if it did get major, someone would get arrested for assault.
“Alrighty , let’s see what Crowley stuck me w-... What the fuck?!”
Your immediate assumption when you heard schoolyard accidents for the chosen participants for the interdorm competition was maybe a few sprained or twisted ankles and wrists, maybe a couple concussions or some broken ribs. You had thought that people would be considerate enough to not do that when the subject wasn’t their obsessive love.
You were wrong. Again. You’re starting to hate that.
“Uh… dude, are you okay?” You can feel your body cringe in phantom pain at the slight of the Heartslabyul’s student’s leg completely wrapped in gauze with metal braces attempting to hold that guy’s poor leg in a normal leg shape. You heard of people breaking legs from nasty falls but from the looks of all the medical equipment trying to correct it someone tried really hard to make sure the break in his leg was ‘can’t play anymore’-worthy.
Though ‘can’t walk anymore’ would be a more apt estimation.
“H-How did that even happen?” You’re not exactly a doctor but you’re pretty positive the guy broke his femur. Honestly Crowley was right, something is really suspicious about these ‘accidents’.
“Eh? I dunno. It was like my body just lurched forward by itself. I can’t really explain it.” You can’t even comprehend how that would even happen naturally either, maiming in a world with magic seriously is one part an unfair advantage and the other part a terrifying spectacle.
Regardless, just like Crowley had explained last night, it wasn’t just the Heartslabyul students, a Pomefiore student (who tried to fight you by the way, thanks asshole) stuck his hand into a screaming hot cauldron and got only slightly lucky that he ended up with a nasty second degree burn that covered most of his arm.
So naturally you had to eat your words, Crowley actually had a reason to be concerned. The problem was that even after a morning of ‘investigating’ you’d found yourself back at Ramshackle reluctantly agreeing with Grim’s conclusion, “I dunno, this just looks like a bunch of absent-minded kids hurtin’ themselves to me. If there’s a scandal here, I ain’t seein’ it!”
“Me neither.” You’d love to disagree with that but Grim’s right, one student fell down a flight of stairs and the other maybe slipped and dunked his hand into a pot of boiling potion. But from your experience of falling down stairs and earning a concussion, it was still possible that someone got involved with them noticing. But how though was the question. “We gotta find out what’s going on before anyone actually drops dead from these ‘accidents’.”
Well, things could be worse. At least your love life wasn’t getting involved–
-And that was the doorbell, “Mornin’ ________” , ah, speak of the devil.
“Heyyy, Ace.” You snap back into ‘all is well and you’re not suspicious or anxious’ mode. Sure it might not be that but hadn’t exactly planned on your love life getting involved at 8 am, you haven’t mentally prepared yet for whatever direction this is going in. “I thought we were meeting later?”
“What, do I need an excuse to see you?” Ace teases, “Deuce got caught up in something, so I thought we could hang out.” You’re about to accept it and get back into investigating when he adds, “ You’ve got so many people around you lately, we barely get to hang out alone anymore.”
The unconscious but familiar chill down your spine doesn’t go unrecognized, “Actually-”
“We’re kinda busy right now. We’re kinda busy right now. Now time for kid stuff. Scram.” Thank you Grim for the swift conversation exit, he’s been getting really good at that.
“Busy? What, is someone bothering you or something?”
“You could say that Crowley's using me like an errand boy.” Now that you’re thinking about it, getting help might make solving this mystery a little faster, that way less people get injured and more Spelldrive practice time for Grim. Ah, what the hell, “Actually, here’s the deal…”
One quick explanation later, “...Injuries from suspicious accidents, huh?”
“But nothin’, we heard sounded all that suspicious.”
“Couldn’t it have been someone being jealous? If a ton of people got around my darling I would have been pissed too.” Ace asks and you can’t really deny that one, the axe in his hands and blood on his face seared into your memory. It also does not bode well for your future but you’ll ignore that for now.
“That’s what I thought.” At least some people acknowledge the elephant in the room. “But I don’t think that many people would have accidentally interacted with the wrong darling. Even for this world’s standards that seems ridiculous...”
For some reason, saying that leaves a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You shake off the feeling, it’s probably nothing, “A-Anyway, all these people getting injured before the tournament feels wrong. Almost like someone is trying to sabotage-”
A booming slam cuts you off, echoes through Ramshackle and makes you fear for the sake of your walls as you hear Deuce yell, “Ace, we got a pro- Why are you here with ______!?”
Aw, for fuck’s sake- “Dial it down, Loosey-Deucy. Can’t I hang out with-”
“Shut it, Ace.” You interrupt, stopping this stupid conversation before it descends into a shouting match because no way you’re dealing with this right now, “What is it, Deuce?”
“Trey fell down the stairs! He’s hurt!”
“WHAT?!”
And that was another scoop of ice-cream added onto this chaos sundae. There are a lot of things you could say in response to Trey falling down the stairs. First, Trey was the last person that you’d assume that would just get absent minded and have a bad fall. Someone as detail oriented as Trey wouldn’t have just stopped paying attention enough to fall down a flight of stairs.
So while you couldn’t help but think that this could have been just some mild karma running its course, it was immensely suspicious that this was even happening at the exact same time, everyone else was getting maimed from accidents.
Thankfully for this bad situation, and maybe not that good for your personal situation, you’re not immediately shocked by Trey having sustained some terrible injury and are super relieved to see some gauze and crutches instead of a metal brace and a massive cast. Still, the fact this accident happened at all is still a concern.
“Trey, we came as soon as we heard!” Even though it's not as bad as some of the others you’d seen today, you still wince at the sight of his leg. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re all here.” Trey’s face brightens up nearly instantly once you come into the room with Ace, Deuce and Grim. Cater’s already there because for some reason fate allows for all of you to interact constantly, and like Trey, his mood brightens instantly with that same discomforting edge that you’re slowly getting used to.
“What exactly happened?” You ask, feeling suspicion overwhelms your concern.
The concern must be evident on your face because Trey tries to calm your nerves. “You don’t need to worry about it, I just slipped on the stairs.”
“Still-” You start, attempting to move closer to Trey just to offer some sympathy only to be stopped by Deuce taking hold of your arm without you noticing and the pressure informing you, you won’t be doing that. It’s so subtle, hopefully at least, that you just abort the motion and carry on talking. “Your leg looks pretty banged up, is it-”
“It’s not broken,” Trey reassures you “I couldn’t catch myself, and my ankle got all messed up. I’ll be on crutches for a while…”
“It’s lucky that it wasn’t anything worse,” Trey’s injury is bad but doesn’t look as bad as some of the others from earlier. Sprained at best, a hairline fracture at worst. “ I’m glad you’ll be okay.” You smile warmly as you finish, because at least he hadn’t cracked his skull open like an egg. Y’know, like you almost did.
Are you still bitter about that? Maybe. But you’ll be a bigger person for now.
At least the somber mood is mostly shared you tune back into what Cater, Ace and Deuce are talking about, “ugh, hashtag #fail! Now that we’ve lost a power player, we have to redo our team roster!-” Huh? But doesn’t that mean-
“Wait, what!?” Your friends/annoyances/possible massive threats go from concerned to excited. Which normally you wouldn’t give a damn about, but you really hate how attacks like this can be waved off thanks to the stupid laws of Sage Island.
“GUYS!” You immediately chastise, trying to maintain the slightest bit of concern for another human that they should have. “Time and place, Trey is still injured!”
As a result of your anger, the switch up is instantaneous, “Sorry, _______.” “Sorry, Prefect.” they both immediately apologize as if only to pacify you. For all you know, they think this is more of an outright blessing rather than a curse. You willfully ignore the apology being directed at you rather than Trey.
Thankfully, Riddle arrives to disrupt the progressively more tense situation.
“Why are there so many people here? Trey is supposed to be resting-” Similarly to Trey and Cater the somber mood on Riddle’s face quickly softens once he notices your presence, just as you really wish would stop happening, the sternness in his tone dissolves into nothing as he “-_____!?”
You only wave a hello, still feeling stupidly awkward and uncomfortable. You’re still sure that the more you’re surrounded, the higher your blood pressure goes up. Thankfully, whatever happened to Trey is distracting Riddle from your awkwardness.
“How are you doing, Trey? Can I bring you anything to eat or drink?”
“I told you, Riddle. You don’t have to fuss over me like this.”
“But it’s my fault that you got hurt.” That sets off something in your brain for two reasons, sure the threat of whatever’s going on but also the whole yandere thing you don’t understand. Has something happened the past few days that you weren’t aware of? Trey being overprotective of Riddle was normal, overblot and no overblot. You’vee taken notice the few times that Trey took care of you that he liked your attention on you, and it felt like he silently liked that Riddle felt so guilty about that too.
“You didn’t tell us that part.”
“I just needed to talk to him, so…” As it turns out, Trey had intervened to prevent Riddle who ‘tripped’ from falling down the stairs and took the fall instead. A good deed on his part, slightly confusing you as to why wouldn’t Trey just let Riddle fall and care about how it affects their future conflict surrounding you. Maybe you just don’t understand because maybe that’s just how friendships between yanderes are. Or maybe unbelievably it’s not about you.
But back on topic, if Trey’s fall was suspicious, Riddle being clumsy or absent-minded enough to just have an accident was so fishy that it started to reek.
“Trey never would have slipped if he hadn’t caught me when I was about to tumble over.”
“Trey fell… trying to stop you from falling?” You mutter to yourself, putting those last few puzzle pieces together. To your side, Ace takes notice.
“It was stupid of me to intervene. So you don’t owe me anything.”
“Still I-”
“Hey, this might not be the best time, but I don’t think-”
You don’t get to finish your interjection as Cater takes hold of your arm, and pulls you into the direction of the door. You instinctively flinch in his hold as you realize that your proximity was getting to Cater a little and silently curse these stupid boundaries you have to put up with to keep the peace. As long as nothing happens to Trey Misery-style you’ll maybe be fine- “All right, peeps, we should let Trey get his rest. Out, out!”
“Wait what?” You object confused as pretty much everyone in the room is, “Now?” as in right when you were about to bring up the whole potential sabotage plot.
Trey tries to interrupt, “You don’t have to-”
On second thought this might be a better thing to discuss this with less people around, so you’ll ignore , “A-Actually, let’s do that Cater! I’ll come visit later, Trey!”
Your switch is immediate once you all leave the room, “Was yanking me away like that really necessary? Cater”
“Totes. Now spill.”
And you do. From Crowley’s original suspicions to the victims you met with earlier, you spill all the details of what you’ve picked up so far as chief investigator of whatever nefarious activity is going down. “And that should cover it…”
“Ah… So the headmaster asked you to investigate.”
“And now, I’m involved AND worried, one wrong accident could lead to someone getting permanently maimed or worse…” “I mean, I’ve already seen too many people almost,” you try to push the scene of the two who absolutely did out of your head, “die. Heck, who knows what could have happened if something went differently with Trey and Riddle.”
Your concern for him makes Riddle’s face slightly flush, which might come back to bite ass later, who’s quick to agree with your concern, “I must admit that I found the circumstances odd as well. I’ve had Cater looking into it for me.”
“And I found out that all the victims have been talented players like Riddle and Trey.”
“You wouldn’t mind letting me on this?”
Another quick explanation comes this time from Cater basically tells you everything you knew, that all the accidents were suspicious, happening to even the most careful students and at least you got some confirmation that all of this was happening to whoever was on their dorm’s rosters. Your sabotage theory held water too, since apparently NRC’s SpellDrive tournament is as internationally recognised as the Olympics back home.
The concerning part is that Riddle made it clear that he wasn’t pushed or had just tripped. Meaning that however the culprit had used their trick to attack the other players was a mystery, a mystery that could result in another incident soon enough.
“But how can we find out how the culprit is doing all this?”
“Th culprit can tell us all about it when we capture him. And we intend to help you do that.”
“MYAH? YOU’RE gonna help us? What’s your angle!” The thought of the negative repercussions of this didn’t really hit you until Grim objected. Considering that they’re all technically rivals from the last time you checked for all you know this is a campaign to get rid of some people you’ve forgotten about interacting with.
“You offend us, sir. One of our housemates was injured- why wouldn’t we help him find justice.” Cater acts all offend playfully, but it’s more that Grim has learned that you’re uncomfortable being around them for so long, so often. But you’ll bite your tongue on that one.
“We’re all house-buds here. Count us in.” Ace volunteers.
And there was the ever present suspicion you carry coming right when needed. “Grim’s a little right,” You point out, disguising it as a teasing joke, “you know, I’m sure you two have something to gain trying to help out with this.”
Deuce tries to deny that, “N-No! That has nothing to do with it, I just want to avenge our housemate, ” but you know them well enough by now to know that it has to do with the prestige and the fact that you’ll be cheering them on if they participate, well, more hands on deck and eyes on you aren’t going to be discouraged by you.
Riddle concedes to allow them to participate if they help with the investigation. And the plan has been set.
Stakeout the next, potential victims to make sure nothing happens to them and to potentially catch the perpetrator in the act. A perfect-ish plan, and just to be sure they’re as enthusiastic about this especially after you mentioned that Crowley owes you and Grim would participate in the tournament if you solved you and Grim might be able to join you both in the tournament =if you all investigate together. A momentary shot in the dark, but sometimes you don’t miss. The thoughts in both of their heads now, and if they weren’t sold because of what Riddle said or just the promise of spending time with you, they definitely were now.
“Well, what are we waitin’ around here for? Let’s go!”
First up, Pomefiore- “Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”
“Hey, uh, Prefect. Not that I’m not against hanging in the hall of mirrors with you, the whole point of staking out the teams means we have to, y’know, go to the dorm?”
“Honestly, Ace, I think that dorm can handle it.” You take a cautious step away from the mirror like Rook Hunt is going to pop out of it. Whoever is behind the accidents, maybe they’ll aim to slow him down a little because you’d like to actually remove the boards of your windows and feel safe afterwards. “Maybe they'll break an arm, maybe they’ll crack their skulls open and go into a coma. I don’t care but I’m not staking them out.”
“Ah…” Riddle acknowledges, like he already knows about who you’re trying to avoid without you even having to say anything. “Did you happen to meet their vice dorm leader?”
“Oh, we met alright. And honestly if he gets attacked, maybe just maybe, I don’t have to be as paranoid of him being constantly right behind me.”
Ace and Deuce’s faces immediately darken in response to your anger, with Deuce immediately “What the hell is this guy’s deal?!”
“IYKYK, Adeuce.” Cater wears the same knowing understanding that Riddle does, which simultaneously calms your concern and increases your fear. “Everyone at NRC knows Rook is a lil’ cray-cray.”
Wait, seriously? “He’s weird even for you guys?” You can barely believe that, you just assumed that that behavior was stupidly common. If it wasn’t, you would thank whatever god this world had for allowing you a small break. “I thought that was more normal?”
“Hardly. Rook Hunt is known for being… eccentric, nearly all of the non-human members of Hertslabyul have brought me complaints against him for a reason.”
“The guy’s gotta taste for the exotic, maybe that’s why he’s interested in you, ______.” Cater’s justification would be a believable excuse if you hadn’t read a sexy love letter a couple days ago. But if that’s the conclusion he
“So, he’s bothering ______ because she’s from another world…” Deuce thinks aloud, probably believing it. You breathe a small sigh of relief, because if that’s what they believe it makes it a little easier to not be completely stressed about people getting murdered again.
Whatever keeps that dread looming in the shadows away-“Nah, that can’t be right.” Wait, what Grim- “______ was just complainin’ about how the creep’s botherin’ her because she’s-”
You quickly slap a hand over Grim’s mouth before he can make this situation far worse. “Shut up, Grim!” You hiss between your teeth as quietly as possible before smiling like your blood pressure hadn’t spiked and calmly saying “So if we’re all for avoiding Rook, let’s go check on whoever’s next!”
It’s such a shame that you weren’t paying that much attention to the way Riddle tensed when you said that. Would have been a nice warning to what was about to happen…
“Alr, Cater’s data! Pay close attention to the Leech Twins, Jade and Floyd.”
“Sorry, did you say ‘Leech’?” You ask, peeking out of your respective bush, you distinctly remember having ghosted a guy named Jade Leech because of a second opinion, from what you recall the person who gave you that second opinion warned you both brothers were bad. It can’t be that bad though right?
“Word is, they work so well together on the field that other teams don’t know how to counter them.”
“Whoa! They have, like, the exact same face!” Yeah, it’s equal parts cool and terrifying. Cool because they look like each other’s mirror images and terrifying like the identical twins in horror movies. You see what that kind stranger meant, maybe they were a little scary. Though to be fair, you only met one of them and sure maybe you were getting a bad vibe thanks to being freshly traumatised.
“Is it just me, or do they make all the other students look tiny in comparison? They’re giants!” And Ace is right, the twins are both frighteningly tall, anyone could see they probably have a massive advantage so it explains why they could be targeted.
“I don’t know about that.” Riddle says, sounding so uneasy that you “If I were the culprit, I’d save them for last.” Well, that’s not a good sign.
Tearing your gaze from the twins, you ask, “Uh, Riddle, what makes you say that…” You already barely knew about one of them, and from what you remembered they were at best dangerous and at worst… well worse than that. Going off vibes alone, their presence was already intimidating, but that could just be you being you, and from literally everything about Riddle’s description reminds you of yourself when describing Rook.
“Just look at those two. I wouldn’t want to get anywhere near them- especially Floyd.” Oh, so the bad experience he went through was that bad. Well at least, you’re all gathered at a distance so he’s got no way of seeing–
“OOOH! It’s the little Goldfishie! Oh?”
Fuck- “AHHH!” You’re mid-way through turning around to see who the hell is talking to you, when a pair of arms wrap around your waist haul into the air, off to a lovely start. What a great way to meet Floyd Leech. Your blood turns ice cold so fast, you might as well be looking a great white shark in the face from how predatory look in that carefree face was. “And who’s this?”
“Hi…I’m ______?” You say, feeling your wildly beating heart in your throat. Maybe it’s not that bad, maybe this is how he greets people. He’s supposed to be the not-that dangerous one…
“Mind if I squeeze ya?” You take that back, you don’t like how that sounds.
“Ye-!” Unfortunately, that question was apparently rhetorical. Because seconds later the grip he has on your midsection turns crushing, squeezing the precious air out of your lungs and sending your rib cage hard and bruising into your vital organs; and sending you choking. So in a word, ow.
No wonder Riddle hates this guy, your ribs aren’t exactly fond of this first impression.
“Floyd, put her down this instant!” You beg some being out there to get Floyd to listen to Riddle, so you can have your feet on the ground and away from this guy.
“Aw, Goldfishie.” “It’s almost like you’re jealous I’m squeezing her instead of you.” You can hear Riddle’s angry scream of indignation has Floyd all but dangles you out of reach like a bully would a toy. You can already feel the bruises forming on your torso as you're held in Floyd’s hold like a ragdoll.
“Listen… to him…!” You say on the little air you have left, squirming and hitting Floyd’s arms with your comparatively pathetic strength against that horribly strong grip on your torso.
“Aww, look at you, squirming around like a little shrimp afraid of being someone’s lunch!” “And on that note, you're teeny, I’ma call you Shrimpy from now on!”
“The hell she is, let her go!”
“Aww, you’re so crabby. I’ll call ya that from now on.” Floyd re-adjust his hold on you, exchanging his hold on you from the bone-crushingly tight hold with both arms to somehow worse with one. Even scarier that he can hold you and crush your ribs one armed but not important. “Y’know, I love crabs. If ya squeeze hard enough you can crush ‘em.” The carefree tone vanishes, replaced in one oozing with violent intent. You swear that you can hear his knuckles cracking in anticipation like it's a warning.
Bad tone shift, very bad tone shift.
Great, you can’t breathe and now there’s going to be a fight because Floyd is apparently that kind of bad, the kind that is unpredictable. Note to self, avoid this guy once you get out of here.
A laugh that grossly does not match the direness of your situation slips through the chaos coming from the other twin. Jade Leech hums a laugh as if this was just a light-hearted comedy. “My, if this isn’t a sight. How nice to see you again, _______.”
“I… wish… I could… say the… same.” You slowly choke out with what little air you’ve got left. “Help…”
“Let her go, Floyd. The poor thing is turning such an enticing shade of blue.” Normally, if you had heard someone, especially someone you were warned about saying that about you, the fear and panic would have sent you on a curse-ladden anxiety-filled downward spiral. Sadly that didn’t register thanks to the lack of oxygen in your head right now as you feel yourself starting to gasp for air like a dying fish.
“Fineeee.” Floyd whines, and finally lets you go. To which you take a deep breath to fill your painfully empty lungs. Once again, OW.
You hiss through gritted teeth once you finally hit the ground and stubble wobbly into Ace and Deuce’s hold away from Floyd. Excusing your own discomfort being around them because honestly, you’d rather be around them than this guy. They react just like you hoped they would, sheltering you behind them, allowing you to enjoy the breathing again.
“Can we get out of here? We learned all we needed to, let’s just go.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jade asks, as if he hadn’t witnessed everything that he’d witnessed.“Whyever would you do that?” What is he going on about?
“We are just making sure you’re okay. Now that we see you are, we will be on our way.” You’re about to walk away but after one measly step forward and a hand flies out and catches your wrist so quickly and tightly you’re stopped in your tracks.
No guesses as to who it is because from strength alone that it’s an exact , that you’re forced to learn that its strength is a literal mirror of Floyd’s. No guesses needed because it’s Jade’s and you can feel your blood pressure going up again. “Going so soon?”
The deceivingly calm and amiable tone combined with the grip on your wrist makes a panicky and nervous laugh leave your vocal chords without your permission as you feel the cold dread worm its way back into your stomach. “W-W-What do you mean?”
“We can’t let spies go unpunished, can we?” By luck itself, you’re able to pull your arm free and take some tentative steps back and away. So literally everyone warning you was right, both brothers were bad news.
“We should probably go!” Riddle appears to share your sentiment, which tells you all you need to know.
“Like hell we will! This guy–” You reflexively slap a hand over Deuce’s mouth before he gets himself choked out.
“Pick your battles better, Deuce.” You hiss between gritted teeth. No matter how deceivingly safe Jade Leech looks, his eyes are dead cold and you don’t want anyone to get brutally assaulted. Or do brutal assaults but not the point. “If he says we should leave, we leave–”
“But why?” Just to make your heart palpitate more and more, they smile, no grin, just like they’re twins in a horror movie, “We just wanna chat~” The twins’ terrifying toothy grin is all the warning your little investigation team needs before you all make the correct decision, and take off like two demons which now that you think about it that is a good description are after you. Which is half right, because Floyd Leech chases after you!
“C’mon! C’mon! Let’s PLay!” LIKE HELL YOU’D DO THAT.
“EVERYONE, RETREAT!” No need to tell you twice, if you could help it you’re probably going to stay as far away as possible.
THE SOONER, THE BETTER.
Gasping for breath after having it cut off is very much no fun, but it’s better than choked by one of the terror twins.
“Riddle…” You say in between breaths, “I see why you hate those guys. I’m pretty sure I do too now.” Honestly now you’re more scared than angry, getting your ribs nearly broken from a surprise ‘hug’ that ended with them both being so creepy when you first met really just set that first impression in stone, you don’t even want to know what they did to Riddle to make him reach that same opinion.
“While I’m happy that you understand how dangerous those two are…” Riddle starts concerned, which was not in the direction that you thought it would, “Are you alright?”
“Huh? There’s no need to worry, I’m fine!” Sure, you weren’t for a while and their concern is pretty valid; the last time you were injured, two people died and you secured a spot in therapy once you got back home.
“The hell, you were literally turning purple from how tight Floyd was holding you.” Ace objects, both mad and concerned, “There’s no way you’re fine, _______.”
Sure, your ribs are smarting like they got hit with a sledgehammer, but you clearly managed to run and walk so, “You guys, don’t have to worry. I got some bruises maybe. You don’t have to make it worse than it is.”
But your words don’t hold any weight when they’re so angry, because Ace is too angry to concern himself with your attempt to call him down. “What the hell is their problem?”
“I don’t know! “ You can see the angry redness of barely bottled up rage appear in Riddle’s face as he speaks. “Those two have baffled me since we were freshmen first year!”
“Guys-” You say weakly, feeling dread pool in your stomach from the memories of what happened the last time they were this riled up.
“Messing with those two is real bad news but srs, it’s fucked up.” You feel another shudder of anxiety and panic head up on down your spine.
“I don’t care what their problem is,” Deuce’s voice is a mix of deep-seated anger and concern for your well-being, “I swear, I going to-”
“Deuce, you’re not doing anything. None of you are. I probably have a few bruises, but I’m fine. None of you should get yourselves into trouble for my sake.” If Deuce keeps going off the handle “I’ll just avoid them from now on. Let’s get back to the stakeout, at least we know that the culprit probably won’t be bothering them.”
Looking at their faces, you can tell that you just slapped a bandage on the outrage but hopefully staying off that topic will get them to move on from it before someone gets hurt. “Who’s next on the list, Cater?”
“Ha. Well, it’s getting dark, so the next guy might be the last look of the day so ______ can rest” Cater’s change from genuine anger to smothered rage buried under his cheery mask in response to your bandage solution is jarring, like it was almost entirely fake only there so he can get you to rest after your ‘attack’.
“Then, we should better get moving.”
You notice something dark in Cater’s eyes for a split second. “Hol up, it’s past five. Riddle shouldn’t you be back at Heartslabyulenforcing the rules? I saw some students playing crochet b4 we left.”
Your resulting confusion is answered when Riddle recoils like he’s made a huge mistake. “Ugh! You’re absolutely right. I need to return to the dorm.” Wow, Cater. Using Riddle's rule trauma to get him to leave. A dick move but a smart one since the trauma’s still fresh. You gotta use that one day. “But I should stay just in case something happens.”
Maybe your nerves are shot but you can stand to be around less people right now while tensions are high. “It’s okay, we’ll meet up with you later to tell you how it goes.” You drop your voice, prepared to keep the green of envy away from your not-very good going day. “And maybe you can tell me later about how to avoid the Leech twins, for both our sakes.”
The offer of spending more time with you is probably too sweet for him to reject, so your group reduces by one. “I-I look forward to it. But if anyone else attempts to put their hands on you again, let me know because it will be off with their heads.”
A familiar chill goes down your spine. “You don’t actually have to do that, Riddle.” You mutter futilely.
Done waving Riddle off, you shake off the nerves and get back on topic. “Now then, who’s left?” You feel the need to cross your fingers and pray to whatever is out there to not let this guy be weird or creepy like the last three were. It might not end up protecting the guy if you’re ready to find the nearest blunt object and beat them with it for the sake of your mental health.
“Hmmm. The student on my list is a first year student from Savanaclaw…”
“Jack Howl.”
Hopefully this one is less than a crazy red flag like the last three.
Heading to Savanaclaw, it, like when you first saw Hearslabyul, is like stepping into another world but simultaneously not.
“Whoa…” One foot through the mirror to Savanaclaw’s dorm and you feel like you’d been sent back to your dreams from the night before but in full color. Unlike Heartslabyul with its rose garden, the environment here is like the savannah, with the dorm literally being built into a large mountain. You can’t deny that you’re awestruck, but not only because of the impressive, primal environment of Savanaclaw but also because it means your inkling on the dreams foreshadowing your future was still true. Good to know.
“Whoa!” Grim is as in awe as you are it seems, “Did they carve this place into a mountain? And check out these huge bones! I wouldn’t wanna meet whatever animal they’re from!” At least, he’s here to melt the tension from earlier away.
At least for you. For the others, the tension is still there though.
“So what’s this Jack guy look like?” Ace’s voice doesn’t carry his normal laid-back energy, still agitated from earlier.
“Let’s see…” Even the normally animated tone in Cater’s voice feels a little faux in your ears. The mood of your group really did get ruined, “Apparently he’s got wolf ears, silver hair and a big, bushy tail.”
“Oh! You mean him? The guy running laps around the yard!” Grim points your target out, and you can immediately see why this guy might be a target.
Jack does live up to the reputation on Cater’s list of potential top-contenders, even just watching him run you can’t deny the guy pretty much looks like strong competition on the field embodied, buff, tall, athletic, but once again because someone out there likes to make your life that much harder, he’s hot. Maybe the werewolf crazies back home really were on to something.
Despite all that though, he’s a little… “He’s kind of intimidating…” You accidentally utter aloud. Despite your cocky demeanour the last time you accidentally pissed off a Savanaclaw member, you nearly got your teeth caved in and from the way this guy is scowling and that last experience, maybe it was right to be a little worried.
“Gettin’ a little nervous there, ______? Don’t worry, hon! Cay-Cay’s got your back.” Apparently, Cater heard you, his smile seeming more genuine than the faux one from earlier, “I won’t let the big bad wolf bite you.”
Well, fuck. You just felt your blood pressure spike.
Whether that’s a response to the chaos of earlier, you quickly slap on one of your most deceivingly genuine smiles and say, “I-I’m fine, let’s just-”
“Hey, you! Mr.Scowls-A-Lot!” You’re mid way between reassuring yourself and trying to stop any other seeds from being sown when Grim opens his mouth. Nerves aside, you instinctively face-palm. Grim was never one for subtlety. After everything happening today so far, you can feel your fear slowly turning to anger and exasperation rising.
“Just wanted to let ya know somebody’s probably gonna try and hurt you. But don’t worry! The Great Grim will protect-MMPH”
“Grim,” You say as ‘warmly’ as possible, with your hand over your very much not subtle friend/roomie’s mouth before he can accidentally word it worse, “You weren’t supposed to tell him that part.”
Of course, thanks to Grim you had to rush over. Though, oddly enough, you notice his nose scrunch up once you’ve come closer, like he caught a whiff of a certain smell. You hope you don’t smell or anything. He doesn’t say anything about it, but something about it makes you take notice. Hasn’t that exact same thing happened before with another Beastman though?
You quickly clear your throat, and try to disguise that slowly bubbling rage with faux warmth, “So sorry, Jack? Grim didn’t mean to word it like that.” The ‘try’ part might not be working though, you can hear your teeth grinding together as you try to just grit and bear it.
While you’re busy giving Grim the ‘you fucked up’ eye, Cater steps in to continue damage control, “Liten king, could we have just a minute of your time?”
“What’s all this about?” Why is watching you as he talks? He has a strange look in his eye too- “You say you’re going to keep me safe?”
“A lot of SpellDrive tournament hopefuls have been hurt in ‘accidents’ on campus lately.”
“And we’re trying to figure out who’s behind it.”
“Go on.” You can feel a swell of relief at the fact this guy is actually going to hear you out this time rather than react like the two from earlier did. If it goes like this maybe convincing Jack won’t be that hard.
“To put it bluntly, our plan is to stake out some of the criminal’s prospective targets.” Cater explains, but Jack’s basically unreadable as he hears the news of a threat against his health and safety like Cater is describing the weather. Still, that could be him mulling it over. “What do you say? Will you give us a hand in catching this guy?”
Jack pauses for a moment, contemplative. Which means he’s mulling it over. Which is great because maybe, just maybe, someone is actually going to hear you out and maybe you’ll be able to make some headway today. Isn’t that-
“No.” What.
“W-What?” You stammer, surprised. “Why not?!”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need your protection.” Jack replies and if you didn’t want to be a hypocrite, you would admit that Jack had a point that he had the right to privacy and not putting up with you or the others just because you said so.
“What do you mean?!” You object. You could get not wanting to be spied on by your rival dorm, maybe if that was the reason he gave you about not wanting protection, but it's ridiculous to not accept the help when he’s aware of the threat. “You could get seriously injured if you’re on your own, it’s a stupid idea to stay alone.”
“...” Jack grumbles,
“_____-”
“Shut up, Ace!” You say a lot harsher than you mean to. Maybe it’s the day getting to you but for the second time today dealing with someone who’s not taking the situation as seriously as you are is really aggravating. “Whether you like it or not, Jack. Someone might be coming after you.”
“You think someone’s gonna come after me, but I’m pretty sure….” Jack hesitates here, and your interest reaches its absolute peak. “They won’t.”
Hearing that makes you go rigid. What did that mean? You can feel all your new BS alarm going off like mad hearing that. Like he knew something was going on but wasn’t going to give you all the luxury of telling you. This is really starting to piss you off.
And for better or worse, that anger started boiling over.
“See ya.” Jack turns to leave but-
“Not so fast.”
You’re nowhere near as strong as Jack probably is, and are probably sporting some weak noodle arms in comparison to his literal cannons Jack has as biceps. But maybe you gain the strength of a hundred men when you’re angry. You feel that last strand of calm snap and fuel the fire of your anger finally bubbling over into just barely restrained rage. Your arm lashes out and grabs the front of Jack’s shirt so fast, he can’t stop you from hauling him down to your eye level, before you all but growl, “What the hell do you mean, that ‘they won’t’?”
You may not be completely aware of how this world works, but you’re not dumb. Yeah, Grim just blurted that out for the world to hear about someone coming after the students, but something didn’t make sense about how he was so sure that this unknown person wasn’t going to target him. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want us to stick around, but I’m not dumb enough to ignore what you said. What did you mean?”
You stop to catch your breath and it’s only now you realise you’ve stunned everyone.
Even though you're looking Jack directly in the face, you haven’t noticed that the completely stunned look on his face hasn’t changed in the time that you’ve started interrogating him. And when you finally break for air, he’s so speechless that he doesn’t say anything to fill the silence in the air.
He’s not the only one either. Now hyper aware of the silence, you slowly turn to the others. Their reactions were what you somewhat expected. Ace looks so amused, watching you pull a giant wolf beastmen down to size like a chihuahua threatening a wolf. For some reason, Deuce looks mystified by you losing your every loving shit like that, maybe he was thinking you had a little delinquent in you after all. And Cater’s recording you, looking quite entertained but his eyes have that lingering danger you’ve been made very familiar with.
Wonderful. The rage in you is temporarily smothered and your voice suddenly softens, “Look, Jack. We’re just trying to look out for you. I’m just trying to look out for you. If you know something, tell us.”
“T-There’s nothing for me to say.”
The anger you smothered flares back up. Though you do notice the stutter… “FINE.” You grind out.
You let go of the front of Jack’s shirt and take one long, deep and not all that calming deep breath. “FINE.” You grind out. ‘I’m fine. If you don't want our help, you’ll be fine on your own. LET’S GO.” The last two words come out so rough and genuinely angry that despite owning human vocal chords you basically growled.
The anger is so clear in your voice that it’s clear this is non–negotiable. Because is everyone in this school either allergic to help or super weird about it?!
Jack still says awkwardly silently, as though he doesn’t know what to say or he doesn’t know how to react to it. He eventually slinks away somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You’re in the middle of stomping away, muttering that topic over and over again in your head when Grim breaks through some of those especially furious thoughts, “Geez, henchman. You don’t even yell at me like that.”
The rage subsides, “S–Sorry…”
Ace pipes up, “Don’t apologize, that was fun to watch.”
“Really?”
“You’ve been really quiet and antsy lately, I’m kinda not used to seeing you angry like that.”
“R-Really?” Have you really become like that lately? Like Winston had been? With how annoying today has been thus far, maybe a lot of the pent up anger and discomfort just released through that. You should start doing that more.
“Yeah, you’re cute when you’re angry. It’s why I don’t mind you yellin’ at me all the time/” Nevermind then.
“W-What about you, Deuce? Cater?”
“I–It’s… nice…” Deuce stammers out, losing some of that fragile control over acting natural around you and really just proving that you did in fact rock his world.
“I think it’s adorbs.” Cater all but coos, as he looks at you like one of those cute animal videos, “Like a smol angry hedgehog.”
The tension from earlier has finally melted away for them but has renewed for you. Lovely.
Eager to change the subject, you switch topics, “W-We should probably go now. It’s getting late, we probably should regroup for tomorrow-”
“Well, Well, Well. Whaddya doing on our turf?”
Oh, fantastic, more of those kind of guys….
A group of Savanclaw students, all tall and athletic, looming over you and the others like giants announce their presence like a bunch of pompous assholes. From their tone alone, you can tell they mean trouble.
“Heh! It’s the redheaded princeling’s little henchmen!”
“You didn’t honestly think you could barge into our territory and make it out in one piece, did ya?”
They taunt like animals guarding their territory. You don’t like where this is going.
“Wow, anyone else having deja vu?” Deuce points out. And he’s right, because of the Leech twins from earlier, did you seriously walk into that again!? Though to be fair, the Leeches were a lot more intimidating.
“Fine, we’re leaving. Sorry for bothering you.” Ace tries to move past him so you can all go back to the Mirror and leave already but one of the jocks blocks him. Which means that whoever this is going to end. It’ll be after a few fists start flying.
“Hey, let’s play a game of cat and mouse!” What was with people on campus just wanting to beat the crap out of each other and playing twisted games?! Was it to fill the voids in the hearts or something!? Though given the whole deal with this world maybe this was a side effect. “Of course, you guys get to be the mice.”
“We run?” Cater asks as you all take a collective step back.
“We run.” You agree, before you all turn heel and dash.
Sadly you don’t make it far. Whether it’s residual because of the fresh, slow-blooming pain across your entire rib cage or the fact you’re being chased by the athletic dorm really just putting you at a massive disadvantage, but you feel a hand manage to grip the back of your blazer and drag you backwards hauling you up like a literal caught mouse.
“Let me go!” You demand as you struggle helplessly against the grip and You should probably do some more cardio later, getting caught so easily is not a good premonition of your future.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” Deuce’s voice drops several degrees of dangerousness the second you’re caught. His fear for your safety trumping his desire to keep out of fights, if it weren’t for the fact you were all completely outnumbered and you were slowly
“Aww.” The jock holding you by your blazer mocks, pulling his fist back probably with intent to smash it clean into your face. “You wimps are so protective of people like her. She can take it.” What the hell did that mean?! Was it something darling specific that you hadn’t been clued on?
That thought alone causes the anger to resurge within you like a second wave.
All you were trying to do was live life without the threat of your friends being obsessed with you overtaking it or without innocents dying. But that line alone enrages you so much that you suddenly stop caring.
“Fine. Do it.” You mutter, suddenly fearless. Let this guy dig his own grave. You’re too pissed off to care.
The overgrown imbecile doesn’t take clear hint that this will end very badly for him. Like an empty-headed jock, he draws his fist back and scoffs, “Fine by me!” ready to pound your face in. You hope you don't flinch or brace for impact, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction before your three problems try to tear him apart-
“That’s enough.”
You’re taken aback as someone familiar grabs the bully’s arm before he beats your face in. Was someone trying to do the right thing and intervene? Maybe this world wasn’t too fargone… after… all…
Wait a damn minute, you recognise him. And he’s not a knight in shining armor, he's an fucking asshole.
And like he hadn’t just helped you, you just redirect your anger from your earlier grudge.
“Oh, if it isn’t the overgrown housecat.” Maybe that was a dumb thing to say, because some of the lackeys openly baulked at what came out of your mouth, but the petting zoo gone rabid being shocked at what you have to say isn’t concerning in the slightest. “What? If you can’t punch my face in, he can’t either?”
“Hey… I know you.” Leona recognises you almost as fast as you did, “You’re the herbivores who stepped on my tail at the botanical gardens.”
“Oh, I am honoured you remember me.” You say as sarcastically as possible, “You still seem like a jackhole though.” You don’t know how you went from demure and fearful to not giving a crap about who’s listening, but you’re not turning it off any time soon.
“Heh...” Leona ‘laughs’ but it sounds more like he’s entertained by your behavior rather than outright making fun of you, “The Herbivore still has a mouth on her.”
The lackeys that once looked so confident and ‘scary’ trying to push you around completely blanch at the thought of a ‘pipsqueak’ like you did that and lived. You’ll take the confidence boost, and keep mouthing off.
“Well, it isn’t shutting up anytime soon, so I suggest you get used to it.” You sass back.
“Wait, _______. You know this guy?” Ace asks, which you are quick to brush off because it is that unimportant.
“We met because of the tart nonsense because I accidentally stepped on his tail and he over–reacted. It’s not that important.”
As you just did, it also seems that Grim has reunited with his own past grudge, “And it’s you! The Deluxe Ham And Cheese Burglar!!” You completely forgot about that part dealing with your own angst and issues, but now that you pay attention to it. Grim’s right, that is the food thief.
Albeit not as big an issue in the grand scheme of things, but you digress.
“Hey now, friend, Let's not get carried away with such delicious sounding nicknames.” Anger with Leona aside, you will admit that you let out a snort at that. Grim getting out played by a food thief is still a little funny. You do notice that Ruggie’s ears twitch a little when you laughed. “I have a proper name befitting my manly stature. It’s Ruggie Bucchi. Don’t wear it out.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you for real, Ruggie. We’ll be on our way now. Thanks for the save.” Unfortunately, unlike last time, you don’t have an easy exit since you’re all still surrounded. Great….
And you’re probably still at the mercy of those useless lackeys who still look completely dumbstruck that you haven’t been hit with retribution for your snark. “What, so you’re just gonna let ‘em walk away?” and “Not even a little nibble on ‘em a little.” You don’t want to know. You just don't want to know.
“No one said anything about letting them go. We’ll resolve this peacefully...” Leona summons the disk with magic, “... with a ‘friendly’ game of SpellDrive.”
Oh, there’s nothing friendly about this game. You’re the only one besides Cater in your group to not be a little excited once the ‘friendly’ game was revealed.
“Are you serious?” You mutter, face deadpan, “We could seriously just leave.” Honestly, all of this seemed a little overdramatic and wholly unnecessary. Kind of how this kind of day has been so far. Honestly with how annoying this all is, it would be nice to throw a SpellDrive disk around and hope it hits one of the many annoyances dead in the face.
Maybe you’re not as anti-violence as you thought you were.
Ruggie laughs akin to a hyena, which is the beast part of him but unimportant, “You’re malicious, Leona. These wimps won’t last a single game.”
And down goes the gauntlet. Ace and Grim are down minute one. Grim more out of outrage and Ace because of the SpellDrive roster thing and also because of that one promise you made yesterday, Deuce and Cater are more reluctant like you would have been a moment ago.
You’re about to agree because, admittedly, it’d be great to get retribution somehow for this massive waste of time. Take out your anger on the arrogant prick Leona, and maybe a little bit of revenge for Grim because of Ruggie’s snack-stealing, but the moment you would have yelled ‘I’m in,’ you have to cringe from the pain of a sudden flare on the bruising on your torso brushing against your shirt, making you hiss in pain
“O-On second thought. Can I sit this one out? My ribs got crushed a little earlier.” You mutter, to the group who had witnessed your unfortunate squeezing but as you voice your weakness you notice one of Leona’s ears twitch as if signalling he heard you.
“For a herbivore, who talks a big game you’re all bark and no bite.” Leona says with all the fondness he can muster. Again with the just almost mocking tone, that makes you wish that you chose to play so you could hurl one of those heavy looking discs at Leona’s face to shut him up for once.
“Oh, I’d love to quick your sorry ass. But sadly, I think I used all my energy for a game on something, no, some people; more important.” The last few times you’d insulted or sassed him, he looked unbothered, like you were just a nuisance in the way that he was humoring. That’s not the case right now, because being so close to Leona you can notice the notable flinch he makes when you ‘suggest’ that he wasn’t important enough for you to waste your time on.
Whatever it is, it's not your problem.
“Kh… if the little herbivore wants to keep hiding, who am I to stop her.” You flush with anger, in response to that. The chance may not be high, but you’d love to see if Ace, Deuce, Cater and Grim can kick his arrogant butt at Spelldrive.
“_____, you can watch from the sidelines. Try to read their movements and convey it to us, okay?”
“Gotcha.” Even if Cater’s ‘asking’ you to watch from the sidelines, that's kind of where you already wanted to be anyway. Because, forced or not, this game might help you learn about whoever’s causing these accidents.
Your new bone to pick with Savanaclaw puts them high on your list.
The thing about dying, you discovered, was that it was simultaneously more dramatic and more boring than you'd expected.
There were machines beeping, bright lights overhead, people in scrubs moving with purposeful urgency. Very medical drama. Very exciting.
But there were also long stretches of nothing—waiting for test results, waiting for doctors, waiting for your heart to decide whether it was going to keep beating or just give up entirely. That part was boring. Tedious, even.
You drifted in and out of consciousness, catching fragments.
"—severe dilated cardiomyopathy—"
"—why wasn't she on a transplant list—"
"—Guardian? We need to contact—"
"—Bruce Wayne, apparently, but no one's answering—"
That tracked. Of course no one was answering. It was gala night. The Waynes had more important things to do than answer calls about their dying daughter.
Except they didn't know you were dying, did they? Because you'd never told them. Because Bruce had kicked you out of his office. Because no one had cared enough to notice.
"We'll keep trying," someone said, and you wanted to laugh. Good luck with that.
At some point—hours? minutes? time was weird—you surfaced enough to find a doctor standing by your bed. She was older, South Asian, with kind eyes and tired features.
"Hello," she said gently when she noticed you were awake. "I'm Dr. Kaur. You're at Gotham General Hospital. Do you remember what happened?"
"Bus bench," you croaked. Your throat was raw. "Couldn't breathe."
"You had a cardiac event. A very serious one. Your heart is—" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Your heart is very sick. You have dilated cardiomyopathy. Were you aware of this diagnosis?"
"Yes."
"And you were being treated?"
"Was. Ran out of medication."
Her expression shifted—not quite anger, but close. Frustration, maybe. Disappointment in the systems that had failed you. "How long have you been without your medication?"
"Day and a half."
"And before that? Were you taking it regularly?"
"When I could afford to refill it."
Dr. Kaur's jaw tightened. "You're sixteen years old. You should not be managing a life-threatening heart condition on your own." She pulled up a chair, sat down like she had all the time in the world even though you could hear the chaos of the ER beyond the curtain. "We've been trying to reach your father, Bruce Wayne. We've called multiple times, but—"
"He won't answer." Your voice was flat. "He's at a gala tonight. Important people, important causes. He won't answer."
"We'll keep trying. You're a minor. We need parental consent for treatment, and we need medical history, and—"
"I can consent," you interrupted. "Emancipated minor laws. If my guardian is unavailable and it's an emergency, I can consent to life-saving treatment. I looked it up."
You had, actually. Months ago, when you first got diagnosed and realized you were on your own. Just in case.
Dr. Kaur looked at you for a long moment, something sad and angry warring in her expression. "You're sixteen," she repeated, softer this time. "You should not have to know those laws."
"Yeah, well." You tried to shrug, but moving hurt. "Here we are."
"Here we are," she echoed. She pulled out a tablet, started pulling up screens. "All right. Let me tell you what's happening. Your heart is functioning at about thirty percent capacity. That's dangerously low. We've started you on IV medications to help support your heart function, and we're running tests to determine the full extent of the damage. But I need to be honest with you—this is very serious. You should have been in treatment months ago."
"I was trying," you said, and hated how defensive you sounded. "I went to a clinic. Got diagnosed. Got medication. I was taking it. I just—ran out."
"Why didn't you get a refill?"
Because you were alone. Because you had no money. Because asking for help meant admitting how bad things were, and you'd been so sure you could handle it yourself.
Because you were tired of being a burden no one wanted to carry.
"Complicated," you said finally.
Dr. Kaur's eyes were too understanding. "I'm going to keep trying to reach your family. In the meantime, is there anyone else we can call? Other family members? Friends?"
Your friends. God, your friends. You were supposed to be at Dani's house right now, eating tamales and watching movies. They were probably wondering where you were.
"My phone," you said. "Where's my phone?"
"The paramedics brought your belongings. Hold on." She stepped away, returned with a plastic bag containing your waterlogged phone, your wallet, your keys. The phone screen was more crack than glass now, but when you pressed the button, it miraculously turned on.
Seventeen missed calls. Thirty-four texts.
Dani: where are you???
Marco: yo you were supposed to be here an hour ago
Jas: this isn't funny anymore. call us back
Dani: im actually worried now. please respond
Marco: if youre dead im going to kill you
Jas: we're calling the police
Dani: no wait marco found your location. your phones at gotham general. WHAT THE HELL
All three: OMW
The last text was from fifteen minutes ago.
"My friends are coming," you told Dr. Kaur. Your voice cracked. "They're—they'll be here soon."
"Good. That's good." She made a note on her tablet. "I'll let the nurse know to send them back when they arrive. But sweetie, we really do need to reach your father. There are decisions that need to be made, and—"
"He won't come." You said it with certainty, with the weight of sixteen years of evidence. "You can keep calling. But he won't come. Not for me."
"Let's try one more time." Dr. Kaur pulled out her phone, dialed the number the hospital had on file. You could hear it ringing on speaker.
One ring. Two. Three. Four.
"You've reached Bruce Wayne—"
She hung up, tried another number. "Is there an alternate contact? An assistant, maybe?"
"Alfred Pennyworth. He's—" What was Alfred, exactly? Butler felt reductive. Guardian felt inaccurate. "He takes care of things at the house. He might answer."
You didn't have Alfred's number. You'd never needed it. But Dr. Kaur got it from the hospital records—apparently it was listed as an emergency contact, which was more than Bruce had managed—and dialed.
It rang once before a familiar, cultured voice answered. "Pennyworth speaking."
"Mr. Pennyworth, this is Dr. Kaur at Gotham General Hospital. I'm calling about—" She glanced at you, and you nodded. "About your—about Miss Wayne. She's been admitted with a cardiac emergency."
There was a beat of silence. Then: "I beg your pardon?"
"She collapsed earlier today. She's stable now, but her condition is very serious. We've been trying to reach Mr. Wayne, but—"
"He's at the gala. They all are. I'll—give me ten minutes. I'm on my way."
He hung up. Dr. Kaur looked at you. "He's coming."
"Yeah." You felt something loosen in your chest. Alfred was coming. It wasn't the same as your father, wasn't the same as the family you'd wanted your whole life, but it was something. "He's good like that."
"I'll be back to check on you in a bit. Try to rest." She paused at the curtain. "Your friends are lucky to have you. I hope you know that."
"I'm lucky to have them," you corrected.
She smiled, sad and knowing, and left you alone with the beeping machines and your failing heart.
You closed your eyes, just for a moment.
You woke to the sound of barely contained panic.
"—just found her like this? On a bench? In the rain? What the actual fuck—"
"Marco, you need to calm down, they're going to kick us out—"
"I don't care! She could have died! She—" His voice cracked. "She almost did die, Dani."
"I know. I know. But she didn't. She's okay. She's—"
"She's awake," Jasmine said quietly, and three faces swiveled toward you.
They looked terrible. Dani's eyes were red and puffy from crying. Marco's jaw was clenched so tight you worried about his teeth. Jasmine's usual composed mask had cracked, revealing raw worry underneath.
"Hey," you said weakly.
"Hey?" Marco's voice pitched up. "Hey? You almost die and that's all you've got? 'Hey?'"
"Marco—" Dani warned.
"No! No, she doesn't get to just—" He was pacing now, all nervous energy and unleashed fear. "We've been terrified! You sent that text—just 'help,' that's it, that's all we got—and then nothing! Your location showed the hospital and we thought—we thought—"
"I'm sorry," you said, and your voice broke. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"What happened?" Jasmine asked. She'd pulled a chair up to your bedside, was holding your hand like she was afraid you'd disappear. "The truth this time. No deflecting."
So you told them. About the diagnosis three months ago, about the medication you'd been managing alone, about running out of pills and not knowing how to get more. About trying to tell Bruce and being dismissed. About the texts from the mysterious stalker. About collapsing on a bus bench in the rain.
By the time you finished, Dani was crying again, and Marco had stopped pacing to grip the rail of your hospital bed so hard his knuckles were white.
"You should have told us," Jasmine said. Her voice was steady, but her hand was shaking. "We could have helped."
"How? You're seventeen, sixteen, and seventeen. What were you going to do?"
"Literally anything!" Marco exploded. "We could have—I don't know, helped you pay for medication, or made you go to the doctor, or told your family, or—something! Anything would have been better than you handling this alone!"
"I didn't want to be a burden—"
"A burden?" Dani's voice was sharp. "You think—God, do you really think that's how we see you? As a burden?"
"You have your own problems—"
"So? Everyone has problems! That's life! That doesn't mean you have to face everything alone!" She was crying harder now, ugly-crying in a way that would have been embarrassing in any other context. "You're our best friend. You matter. You matter so much, and the fact that you don't know that is—it's—"
"It's fucked up," Marco finished. "It's completely fucked up. Your family doesn't see you, fine, they're emotionally constipated billionaire vigilantes, whatever. But we see you. We've always seen you."
"You're not invisible to us," Jasmine added quietly. "You never have been."
Something inside you broke. Not your heart—that was already broken, literally and figuratively. Something else. Some wall you'd built to keep yourself together, to keep the pain manageable.
You started crying, and once you started, you couldn't stop. Great, heaving sobs that made your chest hurt worse but felt necessary, like lancing a wound. All the fear and loneliness and exhaustion you'd been holding in for months—years, really—came pouring out.
Your friends held you. Dani on one side of the bed, Jasmine on the other, Marco standing at the foot, all of them anchoring you to the world, reminding you that you weren't alone even when it felt like you were.
"I'm scared," you finally gasped out between sobs. "I'm so scared. My heart is—they said it's really bad. And I don't know what's going to happen, and my family doesn't care, and—"
"We care," Dani said fiercely. "We care so much."
"We're not going anywhere," Marco added. "You're stuck with us."
"Even if you want to get rid of us," Jasmine said, attempting lightness. "Especially then."
You laughed, wet and messy. "I don't want to get rid of you."
"Good. Because we're going to be super annoying about this. We're talking daily check-ins, medication reminders, doctor's appointment escorts—the works."
"You don't have to—"
"We want to," Dani interrupted. "Let us be here for you. Please."
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
A nurse poked her head in. "Sorry, visiting hours are technically over, but—oh." She took in the scene—you crying, your friends clustered around, all of you holding onto each other like lifelines. "I'll give you a few more minutes."
"Thank you," Jasmine said.
The nurse left, and you settled back into the terrible hospital pillows, exhausted from crying but feeling lighter somehow. Less alone.
"Did they reach your family?" Marco asked after a moment.
"Alfred's coming. He should be here soon."
"And your dad?"
"At the gala. Won't answer."
"I'm going to key his car," Marco announced.
"You don't even know which one is his."
"I'll key all of them. Every single Batmobile or whatever the hell he drives."
"That's the Batmobile," you corrected automatically. "His regular cars are—"
"Don't care. Keying them all."
Despite everything, you smiled. "I love you guys."
"We love you too," Dani said. "So much."
"Even when you're being stupid and self-sacrificing," Marco added.
"Especially then," Jasmine agreed.
You closed your eyes, feeling their presence, their warmth, their fierce protectiveness. Your family might not have shown up, but your people had.
That had to count for something.
Alfred arrived twenty minutes later, and the change in energy was immediate. He swept into your room like a force of nature, all British composure on the surface but with worry radiating from every line of his body.
"Miss," he said, and his voice was rough in a way you'd never heard before. "My dear girl."
Your friends stepped back, giving him space. He took Jasmine's vacated chair and immediately took your hand in both of his, studying your face with those sharp butler's eyes that missed nothing.
"I'm okay," you said automatically.
"You are decidedly not okay." He glanced at the monitors, at the IV in your arm, at your pale face. "How long have you been ill?"
"Three months. Diagnosed, I mean. Probably longer than that."
His expression did something complicated—pain, guilt, anger, all carefully controlled. "And you didn't tell anyone."
"I tried. Bruce—" Your voice caught. "I tried to tell him. He was busy."
Alfred's jaw tightened. "I see."
"It's not your fault," you added quickly. "You have so much to manage. I didn't want to add to it."
"My dear child." His voice was gentle but firm. "You are never an addition to my burdens. Never. Do you understand? You are part of this family, whether they remember to act like it or not."
"They're at the gala," you said. Stating the obvious, but it felt important somehow. "All of them. Together. Being the perfect Wayne family."
"I will call them immediately—"
"Don't." You grabbed his hand tighter. "Please don't. Not tonight. Let them have their gala. I'll still be here tomorrow."
"This is a medical emergency—"
"I'm stable. The doctor said so. And if you call Bruce now, he'll be angry that I interrupted his important event. He'll come because he has to, not because he wants to. I don't—" Your voice cracked. "I don't want that. I'd rather be here with Alfred, who actually cares, than have Bruce show up out of obligation."
Alfred looked at you for a long moment, and you saw the war in his expression—duty versus compassion, protocol versus your obvious pain.
"Very well," he said finally. "But first thing tomorrow morning, I will inform them. This cannot continue."
"Okay."
"And I will be staying here with you tonight."
"You don't have to—"
"I am staying," he repeated, in a tone that brooked no argument. "End of discussion."
You nodded, too tired to fight.
He turned to your friends, who'd been watching the exchange with interest. "And you three must be the friends she speaks so highly of."
"She speaks about us?" Marco looked surprised.
"Occasionally. Usually when she's trying to avoid discussing her own wellbeing." Alfred's expression softened. "Thank you for being there for her. For seeing her when others did not."
"She's our best friend," Dani said simply. "Of course we're here."
"Yeah, you couldn't get rid of us if you tried," Marco added.
"I have no intention of trying. In fact—" Alfred pulled out his phone. "I would like your contact information, if you're comfortable sharing. Someone should know how to reach her support system."
They exchanged numbers, and you watched through heavy eyelids, feeling a weird sense of worlds colliding. Alfred and your friends, the two parts of your life that actually cared, coordinating.
Maybe tomorrow would be terrible. Maybe Bruce would show up angry or indifferent. Maybe your brothers would be uncomfortable and distant. Maybe this whole thing would just reinforce how little you mattered in the grand scheme of Wayne family dynamics.
But tonight, you had Alfred and your friends, and you were alive, and that was enough.
Dr. Kaur returned, ushering your friends out with promises that they could visit tomorrow. They hugged you goodbye—carefully, mindful of the wires and IVs—and left with backward glances and worried expressions.
"I'll text you," Dani called from the door.
"Constantly," Marco added. "Like, annoyingly often."
"We'll coordinate a schedule," Jasmine said, ever practical.
Then they were gone, and it was just you and Alfred and the steady beep of the heart monitor.
"Rest," Alfred said, still holding your hand. "I'll be right here."
"Don't you need to get back? The gala—"
"The gala will manage without me. You will not."
You wanted to argue, but exhaustion was pulling you under. "Alfred?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"Thank you. For coming. For caring."
"Always," he said quietly. "I am sorry I didn't see this sooner. I am sorry you felt you had to face this alone."
"Not your fault."
"Perhaps. But I should have looked closer. Should have noticed. That is my failure, not yours."
You wanted to say more, wanted to absolve him of guilt he didn't deserve, but sleep was claiming you. The last thing you heard before you drifted off was Alfred's voice, quiet and determined:
"I will make this right. I promise you, my dear girl. I will make them see."
