#first non-spoiler art in so long.. and he's smiling..

[catamaris]

their names are ghost and trick

[littleshelbygirl]

“ I need a Gangsta to love me better. Than all the others do. “

irresistible — t.s. | one: Like Art

fandom: Peaky Blinders

pairing: thomas shelby x fem!reader

chapter: one

content warning: gangs/gangsters, blood, mentions of death, mentions of PTSD, mentions of depression, mentions of possible daddy issues, innocent and unexperimenced reader, sexual themes, big age gap (Tommy is around 30 while reader just turned 18), power play, submission, domination, obsession, stalking, possible Peaky Blinders spoilers

chapter warnings: mentions of death, innocent reader

summary: After four years of war, the death of your father, and the tragic end of your mother, you finally leave your hometown to visit Birmingham—there, you encounter Thomas Shelby, unaware that your life is about to change forever.

author’s note: this is my first Peaky Blinders fanfiction, I’ve been obsessed with it for few days now and just finished season one so be gentle w me😔🙏 english is not my first language to beware of certain incorrect words or phrases. I’ve wrote a fanfiction for anime Tokyo Revengers in the past (Farewell my Paradise; simp4jpnsse on Wattpad) so it’s not my first time writing. Enjoy! Also— Grace does not make apperance in this story cause we cannot have her steal our Shelby man.

War can change a man. It changes the way people think of the world. They start treasuring what they have and become grateful for what is given. Since your mother decided to go against it and end her life, you had no one expect yourself. Your father was one of the unlucky ones that didn’t come back to his family after the war ended; only his uniform jacket found a way home. Same one you were wearing at the moment.

Trees and all kinds of greens filled your eyes as you sat in the train for Birmingham— your father’s hometown. You’ve decided to pay it a visit before you go to London and start a new life. Birmingham always found its way into your goodnight stories, stories that your father’s gentle voice would tell to you when you were a small child.

A quick breeze of a train pulled you away from your thoughts and back into the real world. After your things were safetly tucked in your arms you left the train and stepped into the territory of gangsters. They also found their way into your father’s stories. From where you come from gangsters are not a thing so shall this be an interesting journey for you— luckily, you ain’t staying for long.

Your eyes follow quick movements of people and even quicker goodbye’s as they pack their bellongings into the train and say sayonara to their loved ones. With a sigh, your legs started to lead you to the center of this place. You were curious to find out more before you leave to London in a week.

After a while of walking and searching for a place to stay through your visit you come across a pub; ‘The Garrison Pub’ sign laid in front of the place with children playing out in front. The pub itself was quite empty, it was only around midday so guessing most people were having lunch at their homes at the time.

As you walk through busy streets of Birmingham, where people are simply to put— interesting, accent like your father’s fills you ears. A small smile creeps to your face after hearing it around you.

“You alright, love?” The barman’s voice was heard once you stepped your foot inside. You definitely did not give the ‘Birmingham’ lady vibes since your clothes were quite fancier class. Your mother—let her soul rest in piece— used the most expensive materials on the market to sew you the dress.

You sat on one of the stools, resting your baby pink suitcase beside you, “One gin, please.” Your gentle voice finally escaped your lips after days of being quiet. The barman only noded and got to work instantly.

After a bit of silence, the barman spoke once again, “You’re not from around here, aye?” He more of staced, rather than asked since it was obvious of your non Birmingham blood.

With a cross of your legs over your floor lenght pink dress, a giggle and a shake of a head escaped you, “What gave me away?”

“More than you realize, love,” The barman staced again while he put a glass in front of you. “Haven’t seen a lady wear that color of a dress here yet. Your innocence is the second thing; everyone here went through something. And third is the obvious— your suitcase. Must’ve been travelling.”

A rim of the glass kisses your lips, slightly bitter taste taking a place in your mouth. With a nod and a grin you extend your hand over to the standing man, “Name’s [Y/N]. I come from Bristol.”

“What’s a bonny lass such as yourself doing in a place like Birmingham?” His eyes carefully study your every expression but stop once door of the pub opens.

Three young men enter like they own the place. All similiar heights, same icy blue eyes and same expressions. The one on the right looked the oldest while the left one the youngest. The middle man had a calm yet stern look on his face. He seemed as he’d seen things others did not.

Once his eyes locked onto yours, you feel as your heart shattered. You look away with a cough and look down to your lap where you were already clunching your pink dress.

“A whiskey, Harry.” Three words. Three words with that voice of his was enough to make your eyes find his frame again— and yet his eyes were still located on you. He studied you more shameless than barman a moment ago.

You turn your head to Harry— suppose that’s his name— and watch as he has already purred the man a drink and placed it in front. With a hold of the glass, blue eyed man studied yours for few more moments before looking at the barman and nodding him off.

The same man gives you another glance before dissappearing after two other men to the other room. Harry seems to let out a breath he was holding and points a finger in your direction, “Don’t know how long you’ll spend your visit here, lady, but know one thing,” he leans in closer. “This ain’t Bristol no more. People here are differet— more dangerous. And there are some people you must avoid—“

You swallowed a bit of saliva in your mouth before it went dry. Every word that left Harry’s mouth got stuck in the corner on your mind.

“— and those people right there,” his finger moved to the direction of the room.” “are those people that you must avoid.”

Your head moved with together with his finger and you stared at the closed door. Laughs and glass chattering could be heard from the other side. Are those gangsters daddy told me about?

“Who—“

“It’s better to not worry your bonny head with it, aye?” Harry glances at your half drank drink and says to not worry about the payment.

As Harry went back to work around the pub, your eyes kept on glancing at the closed door every now and then. That man— that man with eyes to die for— was truly built like art.

How hard can it be to find a place to stay for few days in this town?

After hours of trying to find a good price for a shelter you simply gave up. You thought of going back to Harry and asking for a place to stay the night. Just until you find something or rather someone who’d take you in for a week.

As you walked through quiet streets of Birmingham at night, you find a bench and decide to call it a night there. Putting your suitcase beside you, you sat down, your knees touching your chest.

The night was chilly, but beautiful, truly. Your chin kissed the top of your knees as you stared up at front of you. Memories of your father’s stories filled your thoughts. He used to tell stories from his childhood here; how he played out in streets of this same town, how he went to school here, how he sneaked out the house and walked miles just to see your mother.

A smile creeper on your lips remembering the two of them. It was such a shame. Such a young little girl left alone in the world. With no one but herself to keep her safe. One of the only possession you had was your father’s gun that he gave to you before he was shipped to France. You kept it safe in your suitcase and hoped you’ll never have the need to use such a cruel weapon.

Your thoughts were interrupted by two drunken voices and wobbles. One came in front of you, while the other kept his guard behind you. Both had sick expression on their faces.

“Howdy, love.” The one in front spoke. The man tried to grab your chin, but you quickly stopped him by standing up. The other man sat you back down and came to stand next to his friend.

Your eyes scanned the two, swallowing your fears inside. Just as another man was about to grab you, a wrist came to stop him in his actions. Both men stiff and freeze in their shoes. Before you could look behind you, a voice you got to hear only once spoke up, “Go home. Both of you.” His voice was rough and quiet, but loud enough for both men to go pale.

“Aye, Mr. Shelby.” They spoke up before paddling away.

The man then gets in front, sits down next to you and takes out a cigarette. He even offers you one to what you only shake your head and look down to your lap. The two of you were silent for a while. Only sound present was the burning of his stick as well as inhaling and exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you.” You were the first one to break an awkward silence.

The man spares you a mere look before looking back into the distance and sticks the cigarette back into his mouth. After few more moments of silence, he speaks up, “You have no business here. Get out while you still can because this town will chew you up.”

Your eyes meet his and you find yourself admiring the way of his smoking which was surprising since you never liked your father and mother using same products. The way his wrist moved together with his fingers, his lips locking themselves around the thing, made your mouth water.

“Maybe I want it to chew me up, Mr. Shelby.” You heard the man earlier call him that. Soon after you’ll find that everyone here called him that—the most famous name of Birmingham and around.

So called Mr. Shelby kept his stare on you as he was trying to read your whole life history starting from the day you were born to today. You see his eyes praying into your soul, studying your features and then going down to your neck, collarbones and chest.

He lets out a simple hum as he exhales smoke from his mouth into the darkness of the night, “You will not survive,” he then stands up and stumps the cigarette to the floor. “Come. I’ll find you a place to stay tonight.”

“I don’t need your help.” You shrug and put your arms around your knees once again.

“You have two choices,” the man crounches down to your height and continues. “either you come with me or you get eaten by dogs before the dawn breaks. The choice is yours and I don’t mind either.”

Chapter two

[lheewonz]

[11:07] 희승 ✧ l.hs

wc :: 0.9k, fluff, gn!reader, non idol!heeseung, not proofread // a/n :: i wrote this as soon as i woke up

taglist :: @jiminzfav-furry @gunilsfurry

Lazy mornings were your favorite type of morning.

The sunlight filtering through the blinds cast a soft glow on your boyfriend’s sleeping face making him look ethereal, almost as if he belonged to another world. Still, before any world he belonged to, he belonged to you.

Heeseung, your wonderfully sweet boyfriend. Even before dating the two of you had done everything together. You two were a package deal, everyone knew that if they saw one, the other was not far behind. No one was surprised when the two of you started dating.

Aside from following each other everywhere, everyone had seen how sweet you were with each other, in that way that makes single people gag. Heeseung was always the first to comfort you when you were upset, always buying you your favorite snacks and hiding you away, and holding you in his lap to hug you (he insists it’s the best position for a hug, spoiler: he just likes you in his lap). He would walk you to class, he would hold your books, when it was raining he made sure that you never got wet, and every time you had an art showing he would take pictures of your pieces and proudly show them off whenever he got the chance. The two of you would spend nights together, stargazing, and he would whisper “Beautiful” while looking at you, and you would blush because that’s cheesy, and corny, and really cute.

So yeah, no one was surprised when you started dating. If anything they were just surprised it took so long. But you liked to take things slowly, never one to rush into any type of relationship, and Heeseung knew that. Your parents had even jokingly warned him that you hadn’t warmed up to them until you were 5. Heeseung wasn’t that different except that he made you want to move faster.

Every time you saw him smile (and every time you saw other people blush at him) it made you want to pack up and move into a little apartment perfect for just the two of you.

A couple months after you had officially started dating, you had blurted the question out by accident. A girl had sat herself beside you, ignoring your presence and forcing you to scoot over. She had begun talking at him and interrupted you every time you tried to speak. Heeseung awkwardly stared at her, every time he tried to say something that sounded the slightest bit like rejection the girl spoke louder, occasionally drawing attention from other people. The two of you made eye contact and Heeseung sent you a pained smile. You giggled at him, and he laughed softly looking as handsome as ever. You watched him laugh with a smile on your face and it was silent, the girl also taking a moment to admire him.

“We should move in together.” Cut through the silence and all three of you were shocked. Heeseung recovers first, a gorgeous, wide smile spread across his face.

“Really?” You nod, and the girl beside you grumbles and leaves your booth, although neither of you noticed. Heeseung stands and rounds the table, he grabs your hands and pulls you up and into a hug.

“It’s easier to keep you to myself if we live together and I can stop you from leaving.” He throws his head back and laughs and you smile, holding onto him tighter.

“I think that’s kidnapping, but I’m okay with that.” And then he’s kissing you, and you want to pull away because you’re in public, but you can’t because your heart skips a beat, and you’re so weak for him, and he’s so perfect, and happy and you want him to be this happy forever, and you’re happy because you made him this happy.

That happiness continued all the way up to the night you moved in. The excitement kept his energy at an all-time high for the couple months it took to find an apartment (since you had both lived in the school dorms), pack everything up, and buy the few pieces of furniture necessary.

He had spent the entire day moving in the boxes with his friends, insisting that you didn’t have to do anything. He had assembled the couch by himself, and then the bed right after. He completely exhausted himself doing everything, so right after a quick shower, he laid down in your freshly made naked bed and went to sleep early.

You spent only a couple more hours opening up certain boxes, the kitchen appliances, and bathroom necessities, and putting those items away before you also took a shower and joined him with a blanket.

And now here you are. Admiring your boyfriend’s beautiful sleeping face. Waking up next to him had been something of a dream, you almost wanted to pinch yourself and then you remembered that you would be waking up to this sight every morning.

A giddiness filled you and you felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Unable to help yourself you pressed little kisses all over his face, giggling when he scrunched his face up and his hand came up to lightly push your face away. You pressed one last kiss to his forehead, smiling when you notice the way he smiles in his sleep, before laying your head on his chest and going back to sleep.

Lazy mornings were your favorite type of morning, and they had just gotten so much better.

[wonderxshows]

yves hi hi \(^^)/ 1, 2, 14, & for taiali 9, 23

ask game !!

YIPPEE ruyaruya in my inbox hiihellooo hope you are doing welllll spins you around thank uu for the ask ^–^ veryvery long. so utc . . . oopsies

1. first otome

i think it was ikemen sengoku im ngl 😭😭 i cant rlly rmbr all that well i just rmbr getting in serious trouble for playing it cause i was like. 11 at the time <- the curious child However my first non mobile one wld be hatoful boyfriend . . . smiles faintly

^ answered this in another ask but decided to put it again since thatother answer had hatobf spoilers and whatnot 👍

2. otome i would like to play

i rlly wanna play 9rip and jack jeanne !! those are my top two id like to play i think . . . OH also hanakare since ive been interested in it since the voice dramas hehehe :]

14. exceeded expectations

hmhmm for a character route i'd say raul ( cupipara ) or shirayukis ( taiali ) !!! i came out of rauls route loving him sosooo much hes so full of whimsy. and well shirayukis was just Not what i expected in a good(?) way. i enjoyed it a lot

as for a game in general i'd say amnesia !! i liked it waaaay more than i thought i wld . . . its a classic for a reason 👍‼️ i think it mixes the mystery ( heroine having amnesia ) and romance quite well and while it can be hard to get certain endings its very easy in which you can go for whoever u want lol

9. romantic moment ( taiali )

23. favorite game art ( taiali )

oughhh my favorite romantic thing in taiali will forever be the callbacks to the time when they were younger and alice had told yurkia "i love your gemstone eyes and soft, fluffy hair. it's what make you YOU" and just like.

like honestly i cant even explain it but it just has a looot of meaning for the both of them and it makes me sooobwhehdgdhshs he loves her a lot.

THIS ONE !!!! its from the epilogue and when i rmbr the context of the scene it just. oughwhkshndjfs they care for each other So Much

honorable mention to this cg tho. wizard is such a real one . . .

[dzpenumbra]

8/15/23

What a day!

I went skating 2.5 hours today. I was a bit anxious and reserved at first, but the college-aged guy I met the other day showed up after a little bit and we waved, so it made me feel a bit more at home. It's fucking odd to have people recognize me, I missed it.

I skated the same side of the park I usually do, just doing the same old bag of tricks. But at one point, I tried boardsliding that round rail again... and it wasn't that bad. That was sorta... the beginning of my "real session", I guess you could say.

I have been pacing myself so I don't skate huge stretches non-stop, I'll just do a run out and back trying a few tricks, then stand around and rest for a bit, unless I'm really working on something. Partly to pace, partly just out of awkwardness. During one of those long standing around sessions, I overheard the people next to me talking about teaching... and art... It was the college aged guy I met the other day and some other guy a bit older than me, who was really good at skating. Like... he was a hair away from landing switch tre flips. That's really good in my book.

I actually approached the guy after his conversation. I asked him if he knew anything about requirements to be a college teacher, that I was interested in getting into teaching but I wasn't sure if I could with just a BA. He unfortunately wasn't able to help, he's a teacher for a home-school group, likely much younger kids too. But I actually approached a stranger and initiated a conversation today. ... I actually approached a stranger, introduced myself, and had a conversation with him. Like... for me? That's fucking massive.

I noticed something though. I was nervous and fumbling for that conversation. And that conversation was about work stuff, career stuff. Fast-forwarding with some spoilers, I hung out and had conversations with 3 different people today. The college aged guy from the other day who ollied the jersey barrier, the homeschool teacher and the kid who landed the BS 180 the other day, who had the beaming smile when I cheered for him. And I streamed for 3 hours. Of all the shit I did today, and I'll tell more detail on how anxiety inducing a lot of that should have been... the conversation about my career and work was where I was stumbling over my words and felt like I could barely form coherent sentences. Like, I even felt like I was close to stuttering at points. There is no doubt in my mind now, that's a big trauma trigger for me. And no fucking duh it is, good lord, with how fucked up I was treated during conversations about my work shit? I'm honestly... kind of afraid it might be my biggest one. And that is really bad - how the fuck am I going to build my career... if things of potential importance to my career... make me turn into a fumbling mess?!

I doubt the guy noticed, honestly. At a certain point after that guy left... I cruised over to the other side of the park and started skating the low box. This was where the whole fucking game started to change. I learned how to ollie-to-manual today. First time doing it. I'm sure I've ollied over cracks into manuals before, I've ollied out of manuals before, but never ollie-to-manualed on a box. And I did it a bunch of times. It wasn't nearly as scary as I thought. I didn't hang my trucks up on the edge one time. It's actually much easier to balance manuals that you've ollied up into rather than coming down out of an ollie onto flat, at least in my experience. Once I felt what it was supposed to feel like, it was surprisingly simple. It took a bit of a grind to get my first one though, probably a good 10 back-to-back tries? Maybe more?

This inspired me to keep building off of that. They have a "rail" that's two concrete parking blocks raised on cinder blocks and waxed to shit. I boardslid most of one of them, a few times. That was fun. And not just like... the side of it... it's flat on top, so you can actually feel it when you get on top of it, and I got really on top of it a few times. Just doing that started to bring back a lot of feelings of... board confidence. Just... confidence being on my board. Confidence is such a big part of skating that is really starting to come back now. I feel so much more natural on the board, and not just my trick board, on my hybrid too. Once the board starts really feeling like a natural extension of you... that's when shit starts getting real.

I then had a short conversation with the kid from the other day, I gave him a tip that I learned from watching skate videos, to try to lock the box coping in between the truck and his heelside wheel (for front 5-0). He then went and did a 50-50 like that and fucking nailed it first try, super smooth too, and looked back really happy. I talked about how I was scared of that trick, and he seemed anxious and didn't really know what to say. I ended up going and devoting a bunch of time to trying FS 50-50 on the 8" box, and I landed it a few times. Yep. I didn't just learn one new trick today... I learned two.

I can't even explain the difference between my nervousness and social anxiety when I got there, versus cruising around the whole park and trying new tricks by the end. It really helped that at the end, it was just me... the college aged guy and the kid. Being in a park where the only people there are people whose names you know makes a really big difference, to me at least. Maybe it shouldn't... but it did.

So yeah, it was a really good session, and I skated for a good 2-2.5 hours. I cruised home the new route again, I go by a big church now, which is cool. I love church architecture, it's nice and quiet over there too. This route feels so much less sketchy compared to the main drag I used to take.

I got home, made dinner, ate, and then streamed for 3 hours. I actually just ended stream to hop over here. I worked on my pants the entire time, doing the white outlining for the celtic knot. It looks really good, the paint is being cooperative, my paintbrush... not so much...

The majority of the stream was a fucking nightmare. It was silent. A guy showed up, someone who I've "known" for a long time... aka he has dropped in, talked about himself for 5 minutes and then left a bunch of times over the years. I have no idea why he keeps coming by the stream, he obviously doesn't like what I stream, he literally only comes by to tell me what's going on in his life when I didn't ask. He only stopped by to brag about how he lost weight, then left. So weird. Like... I'm a stranger to you... why do you care that I know that? So odd to me, and like... really not what a streaming site is designed for... Just go to a Discord group or Facebook or something.

Then I had a person come in and tip me 100 Bits! 100 whole bits, can you believe it! That's... that's $1. That's one fucking dollar. The single apple I ate on the way to the skatepark was more expensive than the random tip I got. But, you know, it's a "big number", so you're supposed to get all excited for these people and jerk them off for their generosity. Seriously. It's so fucking degrading, and even more so when you've been doing it for fucking 7 goddamn years, and you're just like... okay... you're just throwing quarters at me at this point... Normally I'd appreciate the tip, you know, if it was a viewer... it's money I didn't have... but... here's what set me off...

This person had made an account specifically to - and they told me this overtly, as a point of pride - go around and find "small streamers" and give them Bits, and "leave them with a smile", then head off to find another one. So... they go into my stream with no viewers, they give me one viewer, which raises my ranking on the search results and raises my chance of drawing an audience... they give me one dollar... they expect a huge "thank you"... then they leave and bring my viewer count back down to zero. And they are "helping me". That shit gets under my skin. You're just doing it to feel like you're helping people. You're the kind of person who gives money to homeless people simply so they can brag about it later. I mean, how can they really care about the people they are claiming to want to help? They don't even remember their names! You want to really be appreciated by a streamer? Watch the fucking stream. Put your agenda away and just fucking sit down and watch the entertainment that is being given to you for fucking free and actually process what you are watching. If you like it, follow them, subscribe to them (so they can get $2.50/mo of support from you), maybe gift some subscriptions to other people, so more people come and hang out? And go tell a fucking friend. Go talk to your friends and genuinely, honestly tell them about the good time you had in that stream. That is how you help a stream. Otherwise, you're going into an empty room, saying "I support struggling poverty-streamers", throwing a dollar at them, and strutting out the door thinking "I just made their day"... while they're going... "crap, I thought that was a real tip, I thought someone actually liked my art." It fucking sucks, and these people are just... oblivious.

After that, I got a "troll" with an IQ that could fit in a Sudoku square. Their opening line was trying to get me to read something backwards that was clearly some kind of genital-related phrase intentionally (?) misspelled. I asked them what their age was, if they were over or under 18 and made a comment about how... good lord, it was a Monday night... XD And he followed up by saying "your art is banal". And I was really proud of how sharp my comebacks still are. Good lord, I've been in isolation for like 5 fucking years and I still have wit that outclassed this guy like a 13 year old green belt taking on Mike fucking Tyson. I asked him where he learned that word, presupposing it was likely from misspelling "anal" in google and accidentally learning something useful. And then I went on to let him know that I appreciated his critique, but his opinion was really only of as much value as the time gone into forming it. I then decided to continue musing on how fucking odd it is that someone would be trawling low-population art streams at 11PM on a Monday night just trying to trick people or bring their self esteem down. He left, no mic drop, nothing. These people are just as bad as I remember. They've got their one prepared line, maybe a follow up, maybe a backup line... then they run like children. Meanwhile, I'm on camera... I'm using my voice... and I made him look silly. I doubt he learned a lesson there, but one can hope. The internet makes people act really fucking stupid sometimes.

Just a bit after I told my empty stream that I was getting ready to wrap up, I got raided. It was a streamer that does pixel art, they brought 23 viewers with them. It was appreciated. Most of them left, but one stuck around and chatted for a bit and even checked out my Instagram, which was nice. They didn't follow my Instagram or my Twitch though... So yeah. It was nice to get some interest and actually explain the piece a bit, and they seemed actually interested in the medium, so that was a nice chat. I love talking shop, I never have people to talk shop with.

So... despite the stream being an absolutely nightmare... I got about half the knot outline done. I streamed for 3 hours. And I did have some positive interactions. I am, however... tempted to try streaming here... or on Instagram. I just don't know if I can use OBS for that, I really fucking hope so. If I can use OBS, I'm absolutely going to try doing art streams both on here and Instagram. I really... ugh, I don't know if I'm reading into it but... I really don't like what Twitch has become. It really feels like people are just using it like a social media site? Or kinda like Omegle? Like... it's not people coming to watch a host who is providing entertainment for them... unless you have a built-in audience... they come in and start acting like the center of attention, when the camera is literally pointing at a different person. It's weird. I kept thinking over and over tonight "this site is a like a fucking magnet for narcissists". Not just on the camera side, but viewers too. It's weird.

So yeah, that was basically my day. And now I'm fucking bushed. I'm wiped. I'm just going to go take a quick shower and head to bed.

[wayward-dreamer]

Undeniable

Square/s Filled: Threesomes - @spnkinkbingo​ / Doggy style - @anyfandomkinkbingo​ / FREE - Tell Me A Story Bingo @supernatural-jackles​ /

Pairing: Jensen x Female!Reader x Danneel

Word count: 4,018

Summary: Y/N can't deny the tangible attraction between her, Jensen and Danneel, and finds herself experiencing something she never thought possible.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual tension, smut: dirty talk, d/s elements, Dom!Jensen, Dom!Danneel, Sub!Reader, threesome, ffm, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), fluff

A/N: Pretty sure I killed both my betas @evergreencowboy​ and @makeadealwithdean​ with this, so let that be a warning... happy reading and enjoy! :)

Comic-con was always one of Y/N’s favorite events. The panels, the cosplay, the atmosphere of the fans - it was all pretty great. As press, it was always difficult to get some time off during the weekend to catch the things she wanted to, but if there was ever a spare moment, she loved walking the convention floor and taking in the excitement of the crowds, checking out the fan art and taking photos of some of the cool cosplays people had put so much effort into.

She had managed a couple of hours that weekend, but it was right back to business as usual, which was a lot of fun, too. She always got to interview the people she had admired, but considering her most favorite show of all time had now produced a spin-off, that was what she was most looking forward to talking about. She had interviewed Jensen several times over the years for Supernatural, and they had developed a great friendship because of it, so she couldn’t wait to catch up with him and his lovely other half.

“Y/N!”

She lifted her head up from the cards she was reading over, editing some of the questions with the pen between her fingers. She heard his husky, deep voice over the buzz of her co-workers as they prepped for the interview, smiling as he came towards her.

“Hey,” she beamed as she stood up from her chair, hugging him. She had a brief moment of confusion as it lasted a little longer than usual, but she didn’t dwell on it as they pulled away from each other. “It’s a been a while, huh?”

“Well, not long enough, clearly,” he joked, shrugging his shoulders.

“True,” she stated, with a slight chuckle.

“Oh, honey,” he turned around, taking the hand of a beautiful redhead as both of them faced her. “This is Y/N, she did a lot of press for Supernatural. Y/N, this is Danneel.”

Offering her hand, she smiled softly when Danneel leaned in and hugged her instead. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Danneel said, pulling away after a moment. “Jensen’s always said doing interviews with you has never felt like work, so I’m glad we’re coming around to you first.”

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna grill you both for as many non-spoilery spoilers as possible,” Y/N jested, wiggling her eyebrows.

Jensen chuckled, waving his finger at her as he sat down on the chair across from her. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Y/N giggled as she adjusted the mic on her top, watching as Jensen and Danneel did the same for each other, sharing a quick kiss. She smiled to herself as she looked away, flipping back to the first card before she glanced back at them.

“Shall we?” she asked.

“Ready when you are,” Danneel replied, a small smirk on her face as she flipped her hair back lightly.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as their eyes met, a lingering look passing between them. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling as the camera started to record, but she had to push it down.

She had a job to do and couldn’t get distracted by them.

That’s what she kept reminding herself of every time her eyes would meet Jensen’s or Danneel’s as they discussed the new show, but she really couldn’t help herself. They were beautiful, and she suddenly found herself thinking things she really shouldn’t in the middle of an interview. Her mind wandered off briefly as her gaze fell on Jensen’s lips, imagining what they’d feel like on every part of her, before her thoughts transitioned to the way his wife’s would feel as well. She shook her head as she prepped herself to ask the rest of her questions, chastising herself for her unprofessional thoughts.

The interview had gone really well. The rapport between the three of them had been great, and Y/N had wished them all the success for the rest of the season. As they said goodbyes at the end before they headed off to the next string of interviews, Jensen and Danneel  invited her to the small event that the studio was having for them later that evening. She was about to decline the offer, but with the looks that had been passing between them, she found herself saying yes without missing a beat.

And that was exactly where she found herself later, a cocktail in hand, as they laughed about memories from past conventions and talked about how life was treating them lately. They sat in the curved booth, Danneel’s  knees brushing against hers because of the lack of space.

“Thanks for today,” Jensen stated, smiling softly. “I’m always a little nervous before we start, but having you first definitely put me at ease.”

“I’m glad,” Y/N muttered, taking a small sip of her drink. “It was really great for me to have you guys first as well. I just… I’m really happy for all of you.”

“You know, any time you wanna come down to New Orleans and do some press there, we’d love to have you,” Danneel said, leaning her forearms on the table, making the gap between them smaller.

“Oh, that would be amazing!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning. “Ah, I’d go through the proper channels with my boss first-”

“Of course,” Danneel interjected, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Do what you need, and then let us know. Especially if it’s some time next week, we’ve got some cool stuff coming up.”

“I’ll definitely talk to him soon,” Y/N stated, making a note on her phone to call her boss the next morning as soon as she woke up.

“Great,” the redhead smiled, her hand gently skimming down Y/N’s arm and curling over her hand. “It’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Y/N sighed softly as she felt the beautiful woman in front of her graze her foot against hers under the table. Her thumb lightly brushed over Y/N’s knuckles, causing her breath to hitch as their eyes met. She had occasionally had the thought of what it would be like to be with other women, but had never acted on it. She certainly wasn’t going to now considering it would be highly unprofessional, but the sudden, familiar warmth that settled low in her core and the glint in Danneel’s eye were making things really difficult for her.

The attraction was undeniable, especially with everything she had been feeling all day, and she was pretty sure they felt it too, as their eyes met hers. She felt her cheeks warm up not for the first time that day, and she knew she was in trouble if she didn’t leave soon. But she made no move to stand up and walk out the door.

“Can we convince you for a night cap back at our hotel?” Jensen asked, his voice deep and husky as he turned to her, his eyebrows raised. “It’s more low profile than here.”

Y/N looked between the couple, her gaze locked with Danneel for a brief moment before she turned away, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips as she glanced at her husband. Y/N knew what he was suggesting, and was very glad he was the one who brought it up.

“Well…” she started, leaning over the table and closer to them, dropping her voice down into a sensual whisper. “I think your room would be much more private.”

Danneel let out a low hum as she bit her lip, shifting closer to Y/N. They pressed their foreheads together as they looked into each other’s eyes, the wicked smirks on their faces almost identical. It was a brief moment, knowing that they’d rather not been seen, all three of them standing up as Jensen told them to wait outside while the valet brought the car around and he said their goodbyes for them.

Things had progressed faster than Y/N could process, but she still found herself squeezing her thighs together as they waited outside in anticipation for what was going to happen.

Jensen unlocked the door to their hotel room, letting Y/N and Danneel in first, before he closed the door behind them. She strolled into the room, biting her lip as she took in the decor. Her stomach flipped as she felt Jensen’s hand slide down her back as he walked around to face her, lifting her chin up to look into his eyes. They had discreetly walked through the lobby and into the elevator, keeping distance between them, but now they were alone together and her heart was beating faster at the thought of what was going to happen.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but husky.

She gulped. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. She moaned against his mouth as her hands slid up his emerald green jacket, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands rested on her hips. He groaned as the kiss deepened and he pulled her in closer, wanting to feel every inch of her against him.

“Fuck,” she gasped, as she pulled away from the kiss, their eyes locked. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she saw how wide his pupils were already, and she found herself more aroused.

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine as Danneel came up behind her, her chest pressed against Y/N’s back, her slender hand cupping Y/N’s face and turning it towards her. They closed the gap between them, kissing sensually as Y/N turned away from Jensen into her. Danneel had stripped herself of her clothes, left in her dark red bra and panties, before she joined them in the main room. Her lips were soft, causing Y/N to moan lightly as their hands clung to each other. They pulled away, gazing into each other’s eyes as Danneel smirked, reaching for the ties on the back of Y/N’s blouse. She pulled them open, allowing Y/N to lift the material over her head, throwing it behind her. The redhead flicked open the button of Y/N’s wide leg jeans, pushing them down and letting her kick them off, revealing her black bra and thong to them.

“So beautiful,” Danneel breathed, her eyes roaming down Y/N’s body before taking her hand as she walked back towards the bed.

Y/N’s lips pulled into a small smile as she glanced back at Jensen, seeing him taking off his clothes slowly, his eyes on them as they sat down on the bed. The women turned to each other and continued their embrace, their hands skimming over soft skin as they kissed, passionately. Danneel took charge, pushing Y/N back on the bed and moving on top of her, their bodies pressed together. Y/N moaned as she stared up at the ceiling, feeling the redhead’s lips against her neck, nipping at her flesh. Y/N arched her back and unclasped her bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. She whimpered as she felt Danneel’s lips move down her chest, closing over her left nipple, her tongue flicking over it in circles.

“Danneel, fuck…” She threw her head back, her fingers combing into the fiery red hair as the woman drifted down, pressing a trail kisses to her skin. Y/N turned her head to see Jensen join them on the bed, biting her lip as she saw all of him. They were a god and goddess personified, and Y/N couldn’t quite believe she got to be there with them.

“I-” she started but she cut herself off with a harsh gasp, feeling Danneel’s teeth softly bite the top of her thigh.

“Tell Dee what you want, darlin’,” Jensen husked as he cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“I-I want-” she stuttered, breathing deeply as she closed her eyes. Any coherent thoughts had fallen out of her head, already overwhelmed by what was going to happen.

“Tell me, baby…” Danneel whispered, a wicked glint in her eye.

“I want to feel… feel your mouth on me,” she confessed, lifting her head to look down at the woman between her legs.

“You want me here?” the redhead asked, smirking.

Y/N hummed as slender fingers rubbed over the fabric of her panties, feeling how wet she was already. Danneel sat up for a brief moment, leaning over and capturing Jensen’s lips in a searing kiss before they pulled away, sharing a knowing smile.

“You want my cock, sweetheart?” Jensen asked, smirking as he looked down at Y/N. “Want to feel that gorgeous mouth around my dick…”

She reached out for him as Danneel slowly pulled the thin lace of her panties down her smooth legs, flinging them behind her. She moved back between Y/N’s thighs, instantly drifting down and licking a long stripe against her folds. Y/N tossed her head back against the sheets, a wanton moan falling from her lips as she wrapped her hand around Jensen’s cock, pumping back and forth in a slow pace. Danneel moved her skilled muscle over the bundle of nerves in small circles, feeling the woman underneath her getting more aroused.

“Fuck… oh god, I-” Y/N gasped, as her eyes opened, her hand stroking faster.

He groaned, moving closer to her as he pulled her hand away, guiding her face closer to him. Y/N wrapped her lips around his hard shaft, sinking down and taking him deep into her mouth, feeling him press against the back of her throat. She moaned at the feel of him, bobbing her head back and forth, licking the tip as she came up before taking him in again. His hand gripped her hair tight, a low grunt escaping him as he lightly thrusted into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenching as he looked down at her, “your mouth feels so fucking good, darlin’, taking me in so deep.”

Y/N glanced up at him as she continued to suck, her eyes fluttering as she felt Danneel alternate her ministrations between her clit and her folds, teasing her entrance. She released Jensen’s cock with a harsh breath, air burning her lungs as she grinded down against the redhead’s face. She whimpered, far too overwhelmed by everything she was feeling already thanks to them.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, smiling as he watched his wife pleasure the woman between them. “She taste good, honey?”

Danneel pulled back briefly, winking. “So good…”

Jensen tugged at her hand causing her to sit up on her knees, leaning closer to him. They kissed roughly, a groan leaving him as he tasted Y/N’s arousal on his wife’s tongue. Danneel pulled back from the kiss and shifted back between Y/N’s legs, continuing to pleasure her with her mouth. She could feel how close she was, her palms covering her breasts as rolled her nipples between her fingers, wanting to get to the edge.

“She feel good, Y/N?” Jensen asked, their eyes locked as she stared up at him. “You want her to make you cum on her tongue, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she moaned, loudly.

He smirked, biting his lip as he moved down, kissing her sensually. “She’s gonna make you cum hard, and then… then I’m gonna fuck you, hard and fast, make you feel it for days.”

“Oh fuck!” she yelled, her voice bouncing off the walls.

Danneel worked her tongue faster over Y/N’s swollen nub, moving it down between her folds and up again. With a few more flicks of her talented muscle, Y/N threw her back as her eyes shut tight, a shrieking moan ripped from her throat. She clenched her hands in Danneel’s red strands as the woman lapped at everything she had to give, smiling softly as she sat back on her heels.

“Fuck, that was something,” Jensen husked, as he shifted closer to Danneel, pressing his lips to hers in a rough kiss.

He pulled away, looking down at Y/N as she held herself up on her elbows, her eyes flicking between them. He moved off the bed, standing at the edge as his hands pressed into the flesh of her hips, turning her onto her stomach, causing her squeal in surprise. She giggled as Danneel shifted across the bed to face Y/N, their eyes locked as they leaned into each other, kissing passionately. Y/N whimpered as Danneel’s hands slid down her body, tweaking the stiff buds and making her head even more foggy than it already was. Y/N ripped her mouth away, looking back as she felt him smack his cock against her folds, catching the smirk on his face.

“You want it, darlin’?” he asked, his green eyes darkened as he gazed down at her.

“Yeah…” she breathed, nodding slowly as she shifted onto her hands and knees, pressing back against him.

He clicked his tongue at her, as he pressed his hand into the globe of her ass. “You’re gonna have to beg for it, Y/N. Beg me to fuck you, to make you cum.”

She whined slightly, her frustration and need to feel him inside her getting to her. She looked deep into the eyes of the woman in front of her, leaning into her touch as she stroked her cheek. Danneel smiled softly, her thumbs brushing against the soft skin of Y/N’s face, pressing light kisses to her lips. Y/N felt like she was in a dream, like any moment now she’d wake up and be alone in her hotel room, her hand between her legs as she indulged in one of her fantasies, but this was real. It was happening, even if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Be a good girl and Jensen’s gonna give you exactly what you need, baby,” she whispered, kissing Y/N’s forehead.

“P-Please… please, fuck me,” she begged, briefly gazing up at Danneel before she turned her head to look back at Jensen. “Fuck me hard, wanna feel that cock deep inside me.”

Jensen made eye contact with her before he looked at Danneel, receiving a firm nod from her as she bit her lip, smirking. His gaze dropped down to Y/N, as he ran his cock through her folds, teasing her. She closed her eyes as he pressed against her entrance, and in one quick motion, he was buried deep inside her, his cock completely sheathed by her walls. She moaned wantonly, her eyes snapping open as she felt him thrust in and out, slowly building a rhythm. He set a fast pace as he gripped her hips, a groan escaping him as he relished the way she felt around him.

“Fuck, oh god,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering from the pleasure she was feeling. She hummed as Danneel held her close, their eyes meeting as she tried to focus.

“He feels good, doesn’t he?” she asked, a mischievous chuckle falling from her lips, cupping Y/N’s face in her hands. “Feels good being fucked deep and hard by that big cock, huh?”

Y/N’s only reply was a loud moan, almost muffled by the growl that escaped Jensen as he felt her walls contract around him, her arousal growing more with Danneel’s words.

“Dee, keep talking,” he ordered, smirking. “Fuck, she’s so wet and tight… so fucking perfect.”

Danneel smiled, looking deep into Y/N’s eyes. “Really? That’s so fucking hot, love seeing you getting fucked by my husband, taking his cock so well, Y/N. Can’t wait to see you cum so hard for him…”

“Fuck!” Y/N yelled, squeezing her eyes shut.

Jensen continued to pound into Y/N, his hips smacking against the curve of her ass, his sight slightly blurred as he gave into the euphoric bliss that he was feeling. He caught a glimpse of Danneel shifting down, spreading her legs in front of Y/N and guiding her face between them. She moaned as she threw her head back, feeling Y/N’s tongue lick a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, flicking over the swollen nub in tight circles. Y/N paid the redheaded woman the same attention she had to her, feeling a sense of pride as Danneel’s fingers combed into her hair, keeping her head in place.

“Fuck, just like that, Y/N,” Danneel cried out, looking down at her through hooded eyes. “Love feeling your mouth on me.”

She continued her ministrations, leaning onto her forearm to use her fingers on Danneel, thrusting them into her tight heat, matching the pace to the way Jensen was moving within her. She pulled her mouth away for a brief moment, resting her forehead on the inside of Danneel’s thigh as he slammed into her, her walls clenching tight around him as the familiar heat grew in her core.

“Fuck her harder, darlin’,” he groaned, gripping her hips tight in his hands as he watched them. “Want you both cum together…”

She worked her fingers faster, the tip of the digits pressing against the sweet spot inside that had Danneel’s walls contracting around them. Her tongue circled the bundle of nerves at the same time, wanting the redhead to get to the edge at the same time as her. Moans and whimpers filled the room as they both felt themselves getting closer to their release, as Jensen pounded deep into Y/N. With another few thrusts of his hips, Y/N dropped her head down as she screamed his name, feeling the coil within her snap, her wetness covering his shaft. She moved her fingers quickly, as she gazed up at Danneel, smirking as the woman underneath her threw her head back, a string of expletives escaping her as she came hard on Y/N’s fingers. As they reached the peak of pleasure together, Y/N’s orgasm triggered Jensen’s, a few shallow thrusts from him as his neck strained back, a strangled moan ripping  from his throat, his cock throbbing as spurts of his seed coated her walls.

Y/N breathed heavily as she rolled onto her back, sliding up next to Danneel as they both came down from the euphoric high. Y/N moaned softly as the beautiful woman turned into her, kissing her lips, sensually. She pulled her close, their mouths fused together in a passionate embrace, as Jensen moved behind Y/N, nipping at her neck. Danneel pulled away, combing her hand through Y/N’s hair as their eyes locked, both of them smiling at each other.

“That was definitely unexpected,” Y/N muttered with a small giggle.

“But it was fucking incredible,” Jensen stated, as he held himself up on his elbow, looking down at both of them.

Y/N nodded in agreement, pushing herself up to kiss him, once, twice before she laid back, sighing in content. Danneel glanced up at her husband, raising her eyebrows in a silent question that they both already knew. He winked at her, causing a wide grin to spread across her face as she met Y/N’s gaze again.

“So… can we expect you in New Orleans next week? Maybe have a repeat of tonight?” she asked, her hand stroking over Y/N’s arm gently.

She looked between both of them, biting her lip as she thought about the offer. When she arrived for the con, she never thought that this would be how the weekend came to a close, but she certainly wouldn’t change anything about it, especially what had just occurred. She didn’t think she’d ever do something like this, but now that she had, there was no way she could go back to living her life the way she used to.

With another kiss to the redhead’s lips, she looked up at Jensen and nodded, smiling softly as she pressed her forehead to his.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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[keigosbirdie]

FEMALE READER VERSION

Of all Hawks’ secrets, you are the most well-kept.

Version: Female Reader version | Male Reader Version Links: Gifset (art only) | Mood Music

NIGHTHAWK Rating: Explicit   |   Word Count: 13k  | Art: 14 animations, 2 stills (Technically no spoilers, but if you aren’t caught up on the events of the manga you’ll be missing important context. The fic takes place after Hawks’ meeting with the commission.) Synopsis: Casual was the word you used when you first agreed to sleep together. As weeks turned into months turned into a year, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. Warnings: Dom!Hawks, Nurse!Reader, animalistic behavior, rough sex, quirk/feather play, light bondage, biting, praise kink, hurt/comfort, secret relationship, talk of past lovers, mentions of death, panic attacks, PTSD, mention of a past, non-canon event. Spicy, then bitter, then sweet.

There was nothing exceptional about your life from an outsider’s perspective. You lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Jaku City, unmarried and childless. During the day you attended medical school where you studied for your doctorate. During the evening you worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit. Then, when you were home, you sat alone for dinner at a kitchen table meant for two.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For the past year, however, an occasional tap at your sixteenth-story window would break up the lonely monotony. The tap was quite a scandalous secret, not that anyone would believe you if you let it slip. Even you still had a hard time accepting the bizarre reality of the situation; but it was real. Just as real his voice, which you could hear echoing faintly through your apartment.

You glanced up from your lukewarm dinner and dropped your fork. For a long moment, you sat in silence, listening intently until you heard it again. It was him; it was his voice. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you shoved out of your chair and jogged to the window. The part between your curtains opened, but when you peeked through you saw only the glow of city lights below a blanket of darkness.

A frown found your face, and a sigh spilled past your lips. You heard his voice; you would never mistake it for another. It echoed casually against your dim walls again, and you turned your head towards the sweet sound. The television was on in the living room. Your heart dropped at the realization. The little square thing sat on your end table and taunted you with his image. 

There he was. Hawks, the winged hero, being interviewed by a woman in a pantsuit. It wasn’t often he did interviews, so you left your dinner to go cold in favor of watching the program.

He was dressed in his hero costume, his visor lifted to rest atop his blond, wind-whipped hair, and his scarlet wings folded politely against his back. A wide grin graced his face as he exchanged charming banter with the woman. She seemed enamored with his expression, but she didn't know him like you knew him. He was smiling, yes, but the edges of his eyes were crinkled with tension. When he chuckled, his wings folded a little harder against his back. His beats of laughter were calculated. Uncomfortable, that's what he was.

He’d been that way a lot lately.

"So, I'm sorry, I have to ask- Every bachelorette in the country is wondering, is there any special lady in your life?" the interviewer asked. It was airy and friendly in intent, but your lip twitched with faint annoyance anyway. Your face fell slack and you leaned back into your chair. 

"Well, I don't know about every bachelorette," he quipped. His face was a little grainy on your old TV screen, but you could see the slight pink in his cheeks. He was cute. So, very cute. It made you miss him that much more. "But my personal life, well, how alluring would I be if I didn't keep a few things a mystery?"

And a mystery it was, to everyone but you.

Thankfully, the woman interviewing him had enough tact to know when to move on. Their conversation mercifully veered away from his sex life—your sex life—and towards his agency. The television was a wondrous thing. His voice rang through your home despite his absence. It brought sadness, but also a bittersweet comfort. Viewing him live stung your soul. You watched until his interview ended with a commercial break, and then decided not to wait up for him again. That would only lead to another sleepless night. 

Still, the window remained unlocked for him as you called it a night. The yellow glow of your desk lamp died with a click, and you climbed into your bed. Sleep was always difficult. Many nights you laid awake as you thought about your ICU patients. The things you saw in the ward were enough to scar anyone. But if it wasn’t work that plagued your mind, it was him.

Casual was the word you’d used when you’d first agreed to sleep together. It was easy to swallow when he only snuck into your apartment at night for sex. For the first few months, that was it. He’d steal into your home through the cover of darkness and you’d share a violently passionate night. Then, he would vanish out your window until he craved you again. Which, thankfully, was often.

As weeks turned into months turned into a year, however, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. You realized you were in too deep when it became difficult to be unbothered by the casual daydreaming of others. His face was clipped to girls’ backpacks long before you knew him, but others, covered so openly in his merchandise, began to make you a touch bitter. His sex life had been speculated about in tabloids since his debut, but to keep your mouth shut while your friends contemplated the size of his penis became hurtful and emotionally taxing.

The only one you could confide those pains in was the man who unintentionally caused them, but Hawks was too sweet. If he knew just how much it tore you up, he’d surely break things off to spare you the misery.

You cursed yourself for getting lost in thoughts of him. Bemoaning the casual chatter of others as he gracefully balanced the weight of the world on his shoulders made you feel weak. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowed, and your body relaxed into your mattress. By the mercy of whatever god watched over you, sleep slowly overtook all your other thoughts.

At least until a shuffle and a squeak made you toss in your sheets. A faint light spilled into your room from the window, and a coolness settled into your bed. You shivered. It was the fresh winter air from outside. The cold wasn't the only intruder. It was him. 

The light was dim, but a dark silhouette of flared wings blocked out the moonbeams. Your heart lurched in your chest at the dominant display. It was a habit of the bird in him to fluff up when his blood was hot. His predatory energy kept you submissively silent rather than greet him.

Floorboards creaked beneath his shoes. The pulls of their zippers clicked with the movement. His breath was heavy as he moved to your bed. You caught a vision of your lover’s face. Little flecks of snow followed in. They danced around the brilliance of his wings and settled into his hair. In the blue light of winter’s night, his gold eyes looked dazzling. They also harbored a glint of violence akin to the blown-out eyes of a predator in pursuit of prey.

It was a familiar look from the strange animal. He’d seemed so open and friendly when he’d first snuck into your hospital room to talk, but he shrugged away at hugs and only laughed awkwardly when you told him he was your best friend. He didn't understand that kind of closeness.

You’d learned how deep his discomfort ran through him when the relationship became sexual. His inept understanding of touch translated to violence in the bedroom. Sex was most comfortable for him when he thought of it as a battle. He'd hold you down and force you open. You'd dig teeth into his arms and rip out feathers with your fists. To submit to his pounding was capture, but to overstimulate him until he was too weak to hold you down was victory. Extreme? Perhaps to those who didn’t understand your trust in one another.

He'd at least offer a sappy hello before he pulled his dick out, though. Not tonight. He eyed you as if expecting you to run, as if he'd give chase if you decided to. Fuck, it caused the warmest tingle between your thighs. You’d missed him too badly to try to put up a fight.

He left his jacket abandoned on the floor, which offered a much better view of his slim body wrapped in his black bodysuit. His canines dug into the leather of his glove before he yanked his hand free with his teeth. You laid silent and already breathless. It'd been far too long since you last felt him. Your body was hot with need at the sight of his rigid wings alone. His eyes swept over you as he toyed with the front of his tan jeans. He didn't come very often in uniform. To watch him fondle himself through his costume was- god, was there a stronger word than ecstasy?

“I want you,” he said from your bedside.

"You can have me..." You breathed out. It was intended to sound sultry, but your tone was more akin to a pleading whisper. Your body ached for him before your heart did, after all. Old habits were hard to break.

"You've been waiting for me, like a good girl, haven’t you?" he cooed. Cooed, quite literally. A low and rumbling song reverberated from somewhere deep in his throat. Not a bit of you was avian, but your body reacted instinctively when you heard your mate's call.

"I should reward you."

His visor glinted in the dim light as he pulled it off his face and let it land on the floor. His earmuffs, too.

You bit down your grin as the weight of your mattress shifted under his knee. His ungloved hand neglected the bulge in his jeans to tend to you instead. Warm fingertips slipped beneath your covers and found the skin of your thigh. A small sigh spilled from his lips, and your body trembled.

"You missed my hands on you, didn't you?"

You only managed a nod as his fingers slid up and beneath your pajama top.

Your body sank deeper into your covers when he moved over you. One knee landed on either side of your hips. His bare hand played with your breast while the still gloved one ran through your hair. The leather of the glove was frigid from the cold, but his body radiated warmth. The sweetness of his cologne mingled with the harsh musk of sweat. The smell of him fogged your mind.

The pads of his fingers pinched and tugged at the pink bud he discovered on your chest, which earned him a harsh gasp.

"That's it. I love it when you sing like that," he chimed. His hot breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. Wefts of his hair brushed against your face as his teeth nibbled at your throat. You were trapped beneath the cage his body made. 

"These cute little tits of yours- god."

He wasn't usually so chatty when he was about to mount you, but every grumble that reverberated in his throat added to the tingle between your thighs. He could devour you whole and you would thank him for the honor.

Your hands slid up the sides of his tight bodysuit. The inky black fabric was harsh beneath your fingertips. You traced the patterns of its gold accents around to his back and up towards his wings. He stiffened when he felt you slide nearer to them. Between the plush feathers at the base of a wing, you wiggled a finger until you found the skin beneath. Then you gave the joint a brutal squeeze.

Instinctively, that glorious wing of his outstretched and shivered. The stems of his plumes flexed against your hand as they puffed twice their usual size. The longest of them brushed against the ceiling of your room, dwarfing your bodies beneath it.

You were always in awe of the sheer size and beauty of them.

"F-fuck. Not fair," he growled, and then his teeth sunk hard into your neck in vengeance. The harsh bite only made you desperate for more, so you fisted his feathers in your hand and gave a sharp yank. He gasped a hot breath into the nape of your neck. Fuck. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. 

Your hands relieved him of their cruelty to pull off your shirt. He faltered when your bare breasts were exposed. His golden irises became thin rings as the darkness of his pupils devoured them. The tip of his glistening tongue wetted his lips.

It was your turn to stare with sharp desire as you heard the click of his belt, then the pull of a zipper. You pushed yourself up to get a good view of him working his dick out of his bodysuit. The throbbing muscle hit him in the stomach. The sensation made him hiss between his teeth, and you whimpered in reply. 

"Hhm, you must be really hungry, the way you're staring at it," he mused before he spat into his palm and ran the wetness along the shaft. He quivered at the sensation. You quivered, too.

"Please." Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest quaked with desire. "I want to feel it, please." 

"Oh, don't worry. You’re gonna have all of this. Gotta get that pretty little pussy ready for my cock, though, don't we?" he hummed.

He reached into his plumage and pulled out a long, red feather. The thing wriggled between his pinched fingers as he presented it to you. The way it moved was unnatural, but you timidly took it in your grasp. The look on your face must have been telling of your confusion because he chuckled at your expression. He gave no direction. Instead, he watched with a mischievous curiosity as you turned it in your palm. The barbs vibrated independently of one another against your skin.

Your breath heaved when you realized why he had given it to you. His hands slid down your stomach as a pair of red feathers brushed against your sides. They dipped into the hem of your shorts, then pulled the fabric, sliding them down your legs until you were deprived of them. The cold from the open window seeped into your most sensitive places as his hands caressed your hips.

His fingertips stopped over a series of divots and deformities in your flesh. They were painful mementos of the night you met, and reminders of the sacrifice you had made for him a couple of years prior. He was a stranger when you chose to forgo your own survival to shield him from death. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he relived the agony with you, but placed kisses all over the scars. It felt like a plea for forgiveness, so you ran a loving hand through his hair.

A soft sound spilled from him, and then his head dipped down to drink in the sight of your bare body. You were naked beneath your shorts, so he hummed through gritted teeth when he teased your legs apart. He'd seen it all many, many times before, but the sight of your glistening pink sex brought about his cooing again. The sound was a deep and beautiful melody unlike anything you'd ever heard, but also purely sexual. It was his body's call to yours. It beckoned you like a siren.

“No panties, huh?” he murmured. His breath hitched and vibrated with his lustful song. “You’re already so wet, my god… how about you put that feather of mine to use?”

He sat back on his haunches. Those narrow eyes bore holes into your exposed body as he spat another thick glob of saliva onto his palm. His hand found his cock. His eyelids fluttered at the contact and he groaned softly as he pumped around it. His eyes drank your every movement. 

You spread your legs for his gaze and then brought the pulsing feather between your thighs. He could feel through them, in a sense. The thought alone caused you to exhale a soft moan, but it was anything but soft when the vibration teased your sex. He groaned, too, at the contact. 

Your body flexed and wiggled when you pressed it hard against your clit. The sensation made your eyes roll back. Your slickness dampened its vanes despite its semi-hard state, and your hips ground into the pleasure. He observed. His hand pumped faster with each desperate whimper his feather worked out of you. 

It wasn't long before he couldn't take simply watching anymore. 

The roughness of his stubble dragged along your breast as he closed his teeth around one of your pink buds. He suckled, and your fingers tangled in his hair as his feather jolted from your grasp. It worked your clit without your help, and hot air blew from his nose as he jerked himself off. You used the distraction to sneak a hand between your bodies. You wanted the hot skin of his cock against you. You wanted to touch and play; to taste and feel. A thick whimper spilled out of him when you ensnared his throbbing dick in your palm and squeezed.

His feather stopped pleasing you.

"I didn’t give you permission to touch, did I?" His wings flexed. The feathered limbs grew massive as their quills stood on end in a frightening display. They were beautiful and plush, but deadly weapons all the same. “Testing me, huh? You're that desperate for my cock?”

Yes, fuck yes you were. You opened your mouth to reply, but your voice cut out when he grabbed you by the wrist. He jerked your hand away from his sex, and you whined. Usually, you were a bit of a hardass. It wasn’t easy to make you crumble, so he looked so devilishly proud of himself when you’d submit beneath the weight of him.

His teeth bared in a deliciously appealing smirk. "I’m gonna have to do something with these hands of yours if you’re gonna grab at shit without permission, yeah?"

You nodded a little too eagerly. His voice was heavy and deep with a depraved need to dominate you. To sully your skin with his desire. You weren’t going to stop him.

A cluster of feathers gathered in the air around you. You had nothing to fear, but watching them circle like small predators overhead made your heart pound against your ribs like a drum. They swarmed you and ensnared your wrists. The strength of his quirk easily had you overpowered. Your hands slammed into the headboard, pinned down by his feathers which trembled with excitement. You were now at his mercy.

“You’ll get your hands back when you’ve earned them,” he informed you through gritted teeth, but you were so mesmerized by the features of his face you hardly heard his words. Beautiful, that's what he was. You'd never told him how his appearance left you breathless. It could scare him away if you said such sweet things too often, but you’d held your heart back for so long it only felt fair to let it beat this once. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered.

He trembled. His eyes widened in startled confusion, and then his cheeks dusted the faintest shade of red. God, that only made your heart thump harder. His did, too; you could feel it rattle through his chest and against your stomach.

"What was that?"

You bit your lip, embarrassed, but echoed the statement a bit more sheepishly. "I said… you're gorgeous."

Your mattress groaned as he folded back onto his knees. The flaming red limbs on his back lowered until they rested against your sheets. Something about that sweet little compliment tore into him like nothing you had ever said before. That desire that flickered behind his eyes blazed out of control. His kisses landed on your knees before he placed a gentle caress of his lips on the innermost part of your thigh. So close to your pussy that the heat of his breath made you slick.

His other glove was abandoned somewhere on the floor, which rendered both his hands bare. A low groan spilled from him as he pressed his thumbs into either side of your heat. His jaw went slack and his breath erratic as he spread you open.

"So are you," he said, but it was muttered so softly you almost didn't hear.

His head dipped down. The tendrils that framed his forehead fell over your midriff as his tongue caressed your twitching flesh. The hot, wet muscle lapped hungrily between your folds. It flicked at your clit, and your legs trembled on either side of his head. His mouth working you open like that was enough to fog your mind entirely.

“You like that?” he cooed between the slurps of his mouth against you. "Oh, I bet you fucking do."

You replied with only a strangled whimper as you tugged uselessly at the feathers that bound you. You were desperate to comb your fingers through his downy hair, to fist it in your hands and press his face hard into you. A low chuckle flowed from his open mouth and tickled your flinching flesh. Another cry tore from your throat.

“My poor baby, so desperate,” he sighed after placing a kiss against your clit.

His poor baby. He hummed that phrase with such possessive intensity. He was right. Even if it was unspoken, you and your body belonged to him and him alone.

The warmth of his palms traveled back up your stomach and squeezed your breasts roughly. “Forcing you to wait so long for me, did I neglect my sweet little Chickpea? Hmm, I better make up for it, huh?"

God, the way his husky voice reverberated against your flesh was the most delicious form of torture. You bit your lip and nodded, and he rewarded you with a finger. It slid carefully into you, and his hand caressed your insides. You cried a loud, indecipherable string of mangled words. All grasp on language left you as he curled his fingers up and flicked his wrist.

“Aw, what are you trying to say, Sweetheart?” he huffed. All the little nicknames only pushed you further into your need for him. “You wanna feel my fat cock push into that pretty little pussy?”

A sharp inhale burned your throat.

“P-please!” you choked. Your voice was cracked and pitiful when it finally tore from you, and a wonderfully wonton sound fell from him.

“Please what, huh? Please what?” he gasped.

“Fuck me! I want it- I want your cock- PLEASE.”

“Ohhhhh, that sounds so pretty comin’ outta your mouth,” came his long, low growl. As a reward for your begging, he dragged the wetness of his tongue along the length of your little pink slit.

The rough material of his jeans slid down your inner thighs as he mounted you. The shaft of his hot, bare cock pressed flush against your sex. Clusters of his feathers bunched behind the bends in your knees and forced them back, which splayed you helplessly open. You watched as he bit into his lip and rubbed himself against your wetness. You couldn't look away as the most intimate part of his body sheathed itself in yours. 

The most delicious pressure overwhelmed your aching senses. Fuck. FUCK.  He moved slowly. It may have been meant as mercy, but to your sex-starved body, it felt torturous. The ridges of his dick caught at your swollen walls before the tip of it pressed agonizingly slow into the bottom of you. 

“Hawks! Oh my god, I can’t fucking take this!” your throat jerked and trembled just like your aching thighs. Your hips pumped in desperation for friction where your bodies connected. “Give it to me, give it- I swear to god- FUCK!”

Once you gave him control of your body, he lost control of his own. The mattress groaned when he slammed into you. His teeth dug into your throat, laying his claim on you as he panted for breath. His loose belt buckle beat at your outer thighs, and your bed frame groaned in protest with each merciless thrust. His hands dug into your flesh and locked you into his jarring pumps. He pinned you down as if he expected you to play the fighting game, but you didn't resist his cock this time. You didn't want a battle. You wanted your lover. Your moaning whimpers broke and cracked as his jerking hips rocked the wind from you.

He pounded into you too fast for your mind to keep up. Your scarred body buckled and stung under his animalistic need, but the shockwaves of pleasure that rolled through your core kept you begging him for more. More. More. 

His mind was so fogged that he lost his focus on his feathers. The clusters binding you down came loose without his influence, and you easily pulled out of them to throw your arms around his neck. His wings spread out and bristled until they were pressed against the walls, puffed and massive. His forehead was against yours. His hot breath puffed in your face, and his beautiful body was pleasured with yours. 

"Fuck, fuck! Please- Let me come inside you," he pleaded. His eyes were hazy and fogged, his mouth was slack and face a deep red. His body’s cooing song was so loud you could feel it in your own chest. The familiar smell of his cologne intermingled with the musk of sex and blurred your mind. You wanted every piece of him he'd give you.

"Y-yes, please, please," you begged between the hard smacks of his skin against yours. 

Your eyes shot open as his pace quickened. His wings… they were falling apart. Those beautiful eyes of his lulled further into the back of his head with each bone shivering slap of flesh. His teeth bared and his lips twitched as he pressed your bodies roughly together. Shivers rolled through his muscles, and those fierce wings of his were reduced to twitching little nubs on his back as he came.

You ran your hands between his shoulder blades as you marveled at his feathers. They littered the air as they weaved feverishly around one another. The gentle touch of your hands brought Hawks down from his high, and his feathers slowed until they lazily spun like autumn leaves. You pulled him down into a tight embrace and buried your face into his hair. He heaved into your chest, and you watched all the little pieces of him flutter around your room in the light of the moon.

He often lost control of his wings when you made love. They'd fluff up and flap wildly when he came, which often knocked shelves from your walls and your lamp from your bedside table. That was the first time he shed his feathers, and you were in awe.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was gravely and shuttered between labored breaths.

“Yeah, I’m just... admiring," you said as you stared over his shoulder. He glanced behind him, and his cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink when he realized the pitiful state of his wings. The little red feathers spread all around your room stilled in the air and swarmed to his back, returning his iconic limbs to their full glory.

“Er, you managed to pluck me. How embarrassing,” he quipped. You were so sore and exhausted from his sex all you could manage was a little laugh. You were a gasping mess, though, when he finally pulled out of you. The loss of pressure was a relief, but it also left you feeling empty. You laid quiet and trembling as he leaned back to marvel over the mess he made of you. His thumbs spread you open again, and he let out a breathless moan as you felt his come leak from you. His head dipped between your thighs. That beautiful tongue of his flicked out and lapped at the mess on your pussy. The warm wriggling of the muscle shocked your swollen clit and made you cry out, but you couldn't bear to ask him to stop. It satisfied something in you to watch as he licked you clean of your slick and his own come.

When he was content that he'd cleaned you thoroughly, he laid his body carefully beside you in your bed. His fingers tangled in your hair as he locked you into a kiss. You could taste the sex he licked from you on his tongue. 

The sex was always feverish and ravishing, but the afterglow was your addiction. In the beginning, it was rare. To kiss and caress crossed the line into his discomfort, but the more he learned to trust you the more of his affection you earned. The man who feared human touch began to ask for hugs every visit. Kisses became frequent and pleasant the more he let you do it. Then came sex that felt less like vicious wars and more like making love. Yes, after everything you did to earn his intimacy, nothing felt as lovely as lying naked beneath his plush plumage. 

His feathers caressed every inch of your aching body. His warm mouth, still wet from the sex, pressed gentle kisses onto your face. Your head rested against his arm as your breath slowly steadied. His wing flexed and rested on your shoulder as if tucking you in beneath a plush comforter.

“Mm. You like that?” he pondered breathlessly. His fingers trailed up your scarred side until they combed through your hair. There was a ginger softness to the touch that made your heart quiver. He smiled at you, those yellow eyes pierced through the dim light and into your soul. as you reached your hand out to run your fingers under his jaw. 

“Do you need to ask?” you hummed. Your cheeks were still red and your chest quaked as you slowly came down from the high. 

He laughed. What a lovely, airy sound. You hummed in the glory of the moment. And, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you could breathe again. Typically, he’d spend his days off kicked back on your living room couch with a tall bottle of something hard in his hand. You’d go a week or so without seeing him when things got tense in the hero world, of course, but in the last two months, you’d had him for only a handful of nights. It was concerning, but you knew better than to ask. No matter how close the two of you had become he would never talk to you about work.

“It's been a while since you last flew in,” you noted as you got comfortable beneath his plumage. His body beside yours was the definition of comfort. Your mind could only be at peace when he was safe in your bed. “It’s nice to see you again, I was worried.”

“I know, it’s been too long. No need to worry, though, Chickpea, I’m right here,” he replied. His slow exhale tangled in your hair, and his hand's gentle touch found your cheek. He offered no explanation for his lengthy absences, but he and his crimson wing caressed you with apologies. 

You relaxed to the sound of his steady breath through the dim blue light of your bedroom. The wing he draped over you was so plush and warm you could easily fall asleep. You might have, if not for the fear of waking up without him. You scooted closer to wind your arms around his chest and bury your face in his neck. 

"I really wish you could stay," you whispered. 

To let your love get in his way was the last thing you wanted, but it was the utterance of a moment of weakness. It was uncharacteristic of you, the pathetic way it sounded, and you felt him stiffen under your arm as he soaked in your request. While there was never a confession of love, you'd tamed the wild bird with years of patience and earnest affection. He was loyal to you. It was cruel of you to ask for something you knew he couldn't give.

“Ah… I would if I could help it, you know that,” he sighed into your forehead, “but I can try to stay until morning.”

“Please. I’d like that.” It came out like the voice of a frightened child, but it was difficult to hide your need for him anymore. 

If you dwelled any further on the possibility of him vanishing, your emotions were going to get the better of you. You played with the feathers draped over your shoulder to calm yourself. A small one by your face was pinched between your fingers as you rolled the barbs around.

"Your wings are filthy," you mused. Dirt particles littered the poor things. You were sure, with some rooting, you'd find a few bugs he’d picked up in the air, too. "Actually, all of you is filthy. You got dirt all in my sheets, bird brain."

"Oh. Shit, my bad," he murmured as he sat upright. You shivered when the warmth of his wing left you.

"Hm, it's fine. Throw your clothes in the wash and I'll get a shower ready for you, sound good?"

“Sounds good.”

The bed creaked in relief when he stood. His frame was slender and small, but his wings at least doubled the weight of him. That was evident with how smothering being beneath him could feel. He kicked off his pants, though his body was still covered by the black and gold bodysuit he wore beneath them. It warmed your heart to see him carry his uniform out of your room and hear him tinker with the washer on the other side of the wall. The sound of the cloth being tossed inside followed by the creak of an opening cabinet seeped through the drywall, followed by the pop of the detergent lid coming off.

He was intimately familiar with your tiny abode. You’d made sure things stayed in the same place so he'd know where everything was the next time he'd visit. You'd been especially anal about it since he'd often be gone for such long periods at a time. When he returned, you wanted your home to feel like it belonged to him, too.

A sensation overcame you as you laid alone in your bed. The sheets were warm from the love you’d just made. Despite his tongue cleaning you off, you could still feel the faint warmth of him inside of you. His contented sigh found you through the wall and your heart burst.

To the rest of the world, he was a hero, but he was so much more to you. You'd give anything to have him completely. For his voice to echo, groggy and sheepish, against your walls every morning. To get to kiss him goodbye before the sun rose, and to welcome him home every afternoon with a warm embrace. For a ring on your finger; a crib in the bedroom. That wasn’t the kind of life that was meant for him, though. As long as he was afraid of you being hurt, those secret nights were all you’d ever have. It made sense. He had enemies, and you could only imagine how your quiet life would turn upside down if you ended up in the pages of a tabloid.

You only spent time together in the privacy of your apartment. Even after two years of being close to him, there was so little you knew about his life separate from you. What little you did know only made you frustrated on his behalf. You held out hope that it could eventually change, for your sake and his.

Preening Hawks was your favorite thing to do with him. There was something special about being across from one another in the shower, naked, warm water rushing over your bodies as your fingers smoothed and placed his dampened feathers. It took the first year of your friendship for him to allow you to touch them at all, so it was an obvious display of his trust in you. Which was understandable. His wings were an integral part of his identity. You watched as he ran his hands over his face and into his hair. His expression was in a relaxed state of bliss as your fingers picked through his plumage.

With his massive wings on either side of you like plush, padded walls, it felt like nothing in the world could get you. His laughter echoed around the small room as he told jokes and stories. It was okay if you didn't have anything to say, or if you just wanted to listen. He would talk for you when you fell short, and that's usually what got you laughing. 

Through the gentle moment, though, you couldn't help but let your emotions get the better of you. During times like those, when his visits were few and far between, your mind danced around the question of why. The possibilities bounced between him either being in danger or losing interest in you. Both were scary thoughts since he had become such an integral part of your life.

"Would you mind if I ask something?" you pondered, which accidentally interrupted a story he'd been telling about an intern of his.

"Depends what it is.”

"Well… there are a million girls out there who'd gladly do this with you," you mused, and it was true, even if it stung a little to remember. "Did you decide to do this with me because it was convenient?" 

That had been your reason, initially. Hawks spent a lot of time hanging around your apartment and he just happened to be wildly attractive. There were no feelings when he’d first asked if he could fuck you. That didn't come until later.

He laughed, and you glared at him.

“Self-doubt, huh? That isn’t like you. Me being away a lot’s really shaken you up, huh?” 

"It's not self-doubt, I'm just genuinely curious," you quipped as you pulled a feather from his wing. They'd moult if they hung around too long, so pulling out the loose ones was a help to him.

"Well… what we have going on is far from convenient," he said. "If that's what I was going for, I'd go after a pro that could keep a secret. It ain't easy to sneak away like this, you know."

So even a pro hero would have to be a secret for him? Did Hawks have any chance at all for a normal life?

“I wanted you, and if I want something, I go for it.”

You swallowed down a breath you’d been holding, but you didn’t say anything else as you watched his eyes dance around the bathroom in thought. 

"And I wanted you because… well, there were a lot of reasons. The night we met was a big one, I guess.”

You looked away. That night felt taboo to mention, considering all the guilt you knew he harbored. Your scars weren’t his fault. Several villains were on a rampage, and your hospital was in the destructive path. You were just another civilian, caught in the crossfire. His feathers tried, but they couldn’t get you out of the building. You’d been partially crushed beneath the rubble. 

“I was sure it was the end of the road for me. It would have been if you and your quirk hadn’t been trapped inside with me. You have a forcefield. You could have used it to protect yourself, but you bubbled me instead. You were gonna die. I was so sure you were gonna die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.”

Still, your lips wouldn’t move. You’d spent ten months in an ICU after you were crushed beneath the weight of two stories of concrete. If not for the healing quirks of EMTs, you wouldn’t have survived at all. If not for your sacrifice, Hawks wouldn’t have, either. Still, it wasn’t his fault.

 “Still hurts to know I couldn’t help you when you needed me most, but when I looked in your eyes, there wasn't a hint of fear. All I saw was determination. I never met someone who was so sure of their choices, even in the face of death," he recalled. Your emotions skirted between sadness and flattery as you heard his thoughts. If only you could live up to that selfless picture of you, now. “I know a lot of pros who could only hope to have that kind of resolve.”

“Damn, when you tell it you make me sound like a badass,” you quipped, and your laughter bounced around the shower stall.

“I mean, what are the requirements to be donned with the title of badass? I’m sure you’re overqualified. Either that or you’re fucking crazy, which is also a possibility.”

You snorted.

“I'm not crazy. My job is to help people after they've been hurt. If I bubbled you instead, I’d be saving every person you’d live to protect. Before they would need a nurse like me. It’s just what made sense.”

He was silent for a moment as he absorbed your reasoning. You tended to be rational, even in the most emotional of situations. But that borderline-robotic way of thinking was a by-product of your own miseries.

You were a nurse in a world overcome by demigods and treachery. Some of the things you'd seen in the OR would haunt you for the rest of your life. And, sometimes, those ghosts came to torment you in your dreams. That made it hard the first time Hawks slept in your bed. You would sometimes wake with tears in your eyes as your voice quivered out sobs. Your past lovers didn't understand that part of you. The broken part. The part that had been poisoned by the darker side of this superpowered world. 

That's what fostered your love for Hawks. When he had awoken early that morning to you crying beside him, he’d only reacted with a patient embrace. He adored the bright parts of you, but he also had a solemn understanding and respect for your darkness. Having that connection through your mutual suffering was a kind of bond you’d never had before him. And now that you had it, you couldn't imagine life without. 

You went back to preening. You pressed up on your knees to reach a bit higher on his wing, and he watched intently. His voice died into silence as his gaze swept over your naked form, which dripped from the steam of the shower. It wasn't a surprise. Often, he would get lost in himself as he observed you, like a curious bird. It felt like a wordless compliment, so you silently allowed his eyes to explore you. Not that his hands and mouth and cock hadn't already drawn a map of you in his mind.

"Whatcha thinking about?" you teased playfully, and he hummed in response.

"How you look at my wings… I like it."

"Everybody looks at your wings," you said dismissively. A half-smile graced your face.

"You’re right. They do. People admire me because of what they’re capable of. It's what people think of first when they think of me, and rightfully so. They're hard to ignore. But when you look at me, you look at my face first, my wings second. It's like you admire them because they're a part of me, not because of what they can do. I appreciate that." 

Your fingers in said feathers slowed to a stop as he spoke. You smiled a little to yourself as you brushed them against a feather. He shivered. "Your quirk is a part of who you are. That's why I like cleaning them for you. It feels like I get to give you something special, but wings or not, I'd still want you."

Falling in love with Hawks was the best and worst thing you’d ever experienced. The pleasure of those beautiful moments seeped into your soul like a warm cup of tea. But the anguish that followed after he flew out your window… there wasn't a simile that could correctly describe the immeasurable pain. 

Your response must have triggered a long series of difficult thoughts for the bird. His head tilted slightly, his eyes hardened in expression and his brows furrowed as he soaked in your confession.

"In the year we've been doing this… has there ever been another man?" he pondered. The question jarred you. Occasionally, he'd get a touch possessive of his time with you. He’d asked a time or two who you were texting. You knew him well enough to pick up the hint of jealousy despite his light tone, but he never asked anything so outright.

“Well, look who's got self-doubt now. You sure are eager for a lot of questions and confessions tonight. What’s gotten into you?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You asked a question, so it's my turn now. Besides, we’ve been close for a couple of years. We've been intimate for half of that. just seems a little silly to keep up the fuck buddies act. Or is it just me?”

Fuck buddies act? You bit your lip. Hard. When he was with you he was so relaxed. This seriousness was unusual, and it made your wet skin rough with goosebumps.

"It's not just you," you confessed. 

For a short while, the bathroom was filled with only the sound of the running shower as you collected your confession. 

"There hasn't been another man since you. I mean… I've gone on dates a few times, but it never got that far," you replied. The moment another man kissed you… Well, kisses felt dirty if they were with anyone other than Hawks. "I know this thing you and I have going on was meant to be a no strings attached kind of affair, but… Well, if I’m being honest with you, it feels wrong trying to sleep with anyone but you. I like what we have, and I've always got the impression that you really do, too."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure whether or not that was what he wanted to hear.

"Have you?" you asked. "Been with anyone else?"

You’d never asked before. At first, it was because it didn't feel like your business. Then, when the thought eventually made your heart ache, you didn't ask because you didn't want to know. But now that you had come clean, it only felt fair that he did, too.

Air left his nose and his head bobbed back until his wet hair pressed against the shower stall.

"Once,” he confessed, and he sounded ashamed now that he knew you never did. “I used to have this on again, off again thing, before I knew you. I messed with her a few weeks after you and I first… well, you know. But only once, then never again.”

You’d thought it would crush you to learn he’d been with someone else, but it didn’t sting like you thought it would. Probably because you didn't know specifics. If you knew what woman had her hands on him, if you could see it, it probably would destroy you. But the apologetic way he said it put your heart at ease. He mumbled like he knew it would hurt you, and he didn’t want it to. But you weren’t wounded, and your feelings weren’t perturbed. He never promised you anything, just as you’d never made promises to him.

“Why’d you stop seeing her?” you asked as you scooted closer to smooth shampoo suds down in his hair. He only shrugged at first, then sighed in contemplation when your fingers combed along his scalp.

“I’ve never had a place I could go to, you know?” he said. “I’ve never had somewhere like this, where I can lay my head for a little while and just be…”

“Pampered?” you suggested as your hands moved to massage his shoulder blades between his wings.

He breathed out a little laugh, but shook his head. “Yeah, but that’s not what I was thinkin’.”

“Out with it then,” you teased.

“Well… I’ve never had somewhere I’ve felt safe and... cared about?” he said, though his eyes were distant and lost when he said it, as if he wasn’t sure he should have.

“I gotta always be looking over my shoulder. Gotta always have a mask on and hope no one ever sees through it. But here, everything’s relaxed. You couldn’t care less what my ranking on some chart is or how much money is in my pocket. You don't give a shit about heroing or the tabloids. You’re the only person in my life who asks for nothing other than my company. I feel human here. I didn’t want to jeopardize that, or what I had with you. That’s why I stopped seeing her.”

Your mouth went dry. While your nights were long and passionate, you’d never whispered sweet nothings. You’d never told him how much he and his company meant to you because you felt he wouldn’t want to hear it, but he kept coming back. For a year he had clung wordlessly to what little affection you gave him. If he’d told you this a year prior, you would have given him so much more love.

“So you do have deeper feelings for me. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He was silent, as you’d expected him to be. He both craved and feared the closeness he’d formed with you. At times he’d drown you in sweet little bits of affection, but, when things got too deep, he would shut down. Through the last couple of years, you’d broken through a lot of his walls, but the cold influence of the commission would always be with him. Even if he was in love with you, he’d never understand how to tell you.

"Because of who I am when I fly out your window,” he began. The reverb of his voice against the shower stall took you off guard. You didn’t expect him to answer. "There are things I know you want from me… things that I can’t give you right now, and you deserve more than that. That’s why I never planned on telling you… Fuck. It was never supposed to be like this…”

He spoke more to himself than he did to you at that moment. There was an internal battle going on in his mind; one you'd never really be able to understand, but you wanted to try. 

"You mean you never meant to get attached?"

His silence was telling.

"It's okay," you said. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." You took a hold of his hand, but he flinched away from you. He was regressing back into old habits. It had been months since he’d last recoiled to your affection. Something was terribly wrong. The recoil was fine. It was okay. Whatever he needed to feel comfortable. "I'm sorry-" 

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupted. He rubbed the wrist you had touched as if you'd burned him. His brow was knit and his mouth became a harsh line. "Sometimes it feels easy and other times it doesn't, but I'm trying."

"I know you are. Like I said, we don't have to talk about feelings." 

He stared at you, and the longer his gaze rested on your face, the softer it became, "I want to try." 

You nodded and wrapped your arms around your naked knees. The shower had been turned off long ago by a cluster of his feathers, but the soothing steam still lingered around you. 

“It's just… this is difficult. One day someone may shoot me out of the sky. The thought of you still being right here, waiting for me, when I can never come back… It... kills me." He paused, his eyes hazed over as he swallowed his emotion down. The rawness in his voice struck such an unpleasant chord that your own eyes pricked with bitter water. "That's why I didn’t want attachments like this. But I didn't mean for all this between you and me. You snuck into me slowly, I didn't even notice until it was too late."

"Is this supposed to be flattering? It sounds like you're likening me to a parasite or something- heartworm," you quipped in an effort to dispel the heavy tension. He smiled, but only for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you. 

"Just… listen to me," he said, and your eyes trained on his as your mouth closed. "If that ever happens… If there comes a day you've been waiting for me, only to find out I'm never coming back, please know that I cared for you."

He didn't use the word love, but that's very much what he was trying to convey. In a way, you’d kind of always knew. It was why he’d said it, how he’d said it, that made your eyes prick with tears at their corners. The thought of what he was implying petrified you. Hawks was so skilled, so powerful, so almighty. Despite all his power, though, he was human, just like you. The night you’d met proved how possible death was for him. Nothing could keep him safe forever, not even your forcefields.

But he’d never talked like this before. He was always so light-hearted and relaxed. His work and the dangers associated with it was off the menu of conversion topics. What had happened to bring all this darkness up now?

"You talk like you’re preparing for death." 

Again, he didn’t reply. His silence was more terrifying than anything he could have said, but trying to pry him open would only break him, it seemed. So you didn’t.

“May I kiss you?” you asked instead. 

He nodded.

You leaned forward and breathed into his ear. He shivered when you placed a gentle kiss on the shell of it. His earring pressed against your lip was a gentle and familiar feeling, but after you heard all he had to say it also felt fleeting. He always had some ulterior motive or hidden reason for every little thing he did. It's as if he said all this because tomorrow would be the day he was gone.

“I’m not preparing to die.” Your kiss gave him the courage to speak. "I have too much to live for. It’s just always a possibility- for anybody, really. But heroes especially. I just wanted it off my chest is all."

He smiled at you, but you’d seen every smile in his repertoire, and this one was faker than your stick-on-backsplash. The air never felt so tense between you. Not even the night you met, dying feet away from each other. It all felt so… heavy. The weight of it pressed hard into your chest.

“Er, this reminds me, while we're on topic, I got some things going on at the agency. I hate to say it, but you won't see me again for a little while. I don’t know how long. It could be a couple of months.” His disposition remained fake casual. His shoulders and face were relaxed as he enjoyed the steam of the shower, but his wings tensed. You felt it in your palms as you preened him.

"You're in trouble," you said. Your mouth went dry as the realization drained the color from your face. 

"Trouble? Me? Nah. Just work stuff."

He spoke with a relaxed air about him, but he couldn’t lie to you. 

"No. You've been acting off all night. You’ve been making all these confessions. Talking about death, telling me you're going away for a while. I know you better than you think I do; something big happened and you're trying to tie up loose ends in case you don't get out of it okay," you rambled, and the more you talked the higher your voice became. It trembled and wavered with building fear. 

He stared at you. That silly face of his melted into a thin line and sharp, angular eyes. Those tricks worked when no one was close enough to see through them, but you knew his genuine smile like the back of your hand. You saw right through his facade, and he was annoyed by the very determination he just prided you for. 

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" 

You didn't whimper, but your eyes became glossy with emotion. It was a strange mixture of panic, sorrow, and rage. You had no idea what he'd gotten into, but you also knew he would never tell. He placed preserving missions above all else, which made sense but was frustrating.

"I don't know what's going on, but you need to get out of it if you're thinking it's something you may not come back from." 

"Things aren't that simple. I chose this life, I gotta follow through."

"No, I chose to be a nurse when I was sixteen and understood the implications of what I'd have to go through. You were fucking six when the commission took you, and they spent all that time gaslighting and taking advantage of you-"

"We aren’t talking about that right now, don't use it against me.” 

"Use it- what? I'm not using anything against you! You’re the one alluding to death! There’s nothing wrong at the agency, there’s something else- something terrible-" 

"Drop it.”

“How can I?!”

"Because I said so." His eyes were narrow and mouth a tight, thin line. You could read him so well. He was regretting this. All of this, because now you were onto whatever suicide mission he was embarking on. But, as his lover, how could you just sit back and silently watch him throw himself into a danger that had even him shaken?

You got louder, and he got louder. You tossed bitter, confused words back and forth until he was screaming. Until you were screaming back at him. Your calm, laid back demeanor slipped through your fingers the moment you realized he could be in over his head. That, if you let him leave, this could be the last night you’d ever spend with him. Your anger was driven by your fear for his life, and his was driven by your inability to let it go. 

He was still screaming. You were still screaming. You were fighting him. He just told you you were the most important person in his life, and you were spitting venom. 

You stopped.

He stopped.

Your hand came to your bare chest as it heaved in an attempt to steady your breath. The other came up to wipe the tears budding in your eyes. He looked away from you, his brow tugged heavily downward, his jaw clenched together in shame.

"Let’s just breathe, okay?" you pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you whimpered into your hand. "Out of everyone in the world, you're the last who needs to say sorry, so don't. It's just- it's not right, okay? You're too… I don't know, selfless? I watch all the time as that gets taken advantage of. Doesn’t it get tiring? Even your name is some dirty secret. I've been sleeping with you for a year and I don't even know what it is-"

"Yes, you do," he argued, his lip wavered with weakness for one vulnerable moment. "You know me- you know my name."

Desperation laced between his words and strung the sentence together. It wasn't easy to see your lover look at you that way, just begging for you to let pieces of him go. It was hard to accept it, but whatever name he went by prior to heroism didn't exist anymore. Neither did the once innocent child it belonged to. You tried to respect that, but it was unfair he was denied a basic human right: to have a name. 

"You're Hawks, I know, I'm sorry… it's just… how much is left of yourself that actually belongs to you? How long until there’s nothing left to give? People have taken so much from you that you’ve become numb to it; do you even know what you're missing out on? Do you even know how lonely you are? When’s the last time anybody even asked if you were okay?"

He realized, then, that you weren't angry at him.

You were angry for him.

His eyes shifted to yours, and he nibbled at his bottom lip before he muttered with the quirk of his mouth: “Well, you ask me that pretty much every time you see me.”

There it was. The crack in your voice. The crinkle of your nose and the tremble of your lip. You cried, and he sat there across from you, still bare as his wings lowered to either side of you. His expression didn't change, and, for once, you couldn't read it. You didn't want to be so upset, but knowing he was in some kind of dangerous trouble that shook even him was too much for you to bear.

"I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just… Do you have any idea how many heroes I've wheeled into the morgue? People die on my table all of the time. Every time is just as hard as the last, but the heroes- those are the ones that destroy me. Because every time someone in a cape lands on the table I know their families are waiting for them at home, just like I wait here for you.

"I saved you once, but you're so far away from me, too far for my forcefields to reach you. Hearing you say you’re going away- all I can think of is coming into work one day and finding you c-... covered in a sheet."

His wings moved up from the shower floor. The feathers were dark with dampness as their joints pressed into your back. You sat there like that as he let you cry. Really, what else could he have done? What else could you have done? Of course you were angry. You would be for the rest of your life over how his panned out. His childhood was taken from him, his understanding of human affection was still stunted, even after all the time you spent gently undoing what damage had been done. Now he talked like one wrong move would end it all.

"It's… difficult," he began, though he couldn't make eye contact with you. He usually couldn't when you had discussions like this. "Being a hero isn’t what I imagined I would be when I was a kid. And sometimes I do ask myself: 'what is this all for? There's always going to be a new bad guy. Why does it matter?' And then I think about you…" 

He went silent for a moment; you could see the little battle behind his eyes. The battle between his affection deprived confusion and his need to be closer to you. To explain himself. 

"I think about you and it reminds me there are good people who are worth fighting for. As long as you are here and there are bad people out there that could hurt you, I have to be out there, too. And, yeah, sometimes I get afraid. But as long as I have these wings, I'm going to use them to keep this world safe for you."

He’d never felt so close to you, and yet so far away. He thought even more of you than you anticipated. A part of you felt touched you'd become a cornerstone for his sanity in such a hostile world, but the other part felt sick. If he wanted to fight for you, that was fine.

But to die for you; that would be unforgivable.

The urge to argue the worth of his life weighed heavy on your heart. If you did, he would call you hypocritical, considering your own history of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t the same, though. His self-worth depended on his usefulness to others and little else, and you feared the day that usefulness ran out. What would Hawks be, if not a hero? It should have such a simple answer, like what you would be if not a nurse. But it didn't. It never would.

You leaned forward to pull him into a tight hug. Perhaps when he was anywhere else you were unable to protect him, but right there, in your arms, you'd use whatever you could to keep him safe. Your bubbles, your kind words, anything. 

"I understand," you said, because you knew there were no words that could keep him away from the hero path. It wasn't just a part of his identity; it was all he'd ever known. "Just… don't forget when the heroing is said and done, you'll always have a place here if you need it."

He hummed a small, contented coo at your kindness. Of course, you didn't have to tell him that. He already knew. Why else would he spend so much of his precious little free time cuddled up to you? 

"I'll remember," he promised as his arms and damp wings curled in to squeeze you against him. 

You and Hawks bathed in the comforting darkness of your bedroom. Your window was frosted from the bitter cold outside, but his body heat kept you warm in the safety of your bed. Or nest, rather, as Hawks tended to construct mounds of tangled comforters and wadded up bedsheets to hide in as he got comfortable. You were buried beneath the mass of cloth and the cocoon of his wings as you tried to fall asleep. It was a difficult undertaking since you didn’t know when you’d see him again. You were so tired, but you wanted to be awake to hold him for what little time you had left. 

You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep, anyway.

Often when Hawks slept in your bed you'd awaken at strange hours. Sometimes this was due to your own nightmares. The subject bounced between the traumatic things you’d seen at the hospital and the night you’d met. You'd wake to find that you’d encased your bed in your protective bubble during your sleep, and Hawks' wings squeezed you gently against his chest. Other nights, it was Hawks' anxiety that would keep you awake.

During the day, his guard was discreetly up. He carried carefree conversations as if unbothered, but those well-trained feathers of his were on constant guard. Really, he never had a moment to breathe. This was something you never would have understood the depths of if you weren't woken by his anxiety in the midst of the night. The anxiety he kept bottled during the day often let itself out in the form of night terrors. He'd mumble. Roll. His wings would twitch over you. His face would morph into an agonized expression, and he chirped in distress. A good, gentle shake was usually all it took to pull him out of the bad dream. 

That night his nerves reared their head, though in an unorthodox way. Apparently, you did fall asleep, because you awoke with a small grumble when you felt the mattress groan, followed by a heavy weight draping over your body. You let out a long whine of displeasure, but the weight just got heavier. You turned your head and opened your eyes to find Hawks, but he wasn't gasping in his sleep. He laid over you, wings puffed but flat on either side of your bed as he stared at the bedroom door.

"Hawks? You're squishing me." 

He didn't answer or turn to look at you. Those sharp eyes of his danced around in panic, his feathers raised as they sensed every small movement in your apartment. You dropped your head back onto your pillow with a sigh. 

"What's the matter?" you pondered.

"Shh," he hummed. "I felt something…"

You laid and listened for a short while, but all you could hear was the lady in the apartment above you walking across her floor.

"It's my neighbor."

"What if it's not?" 

Whether the display was the primal instruction from the bird in him to protect his mate or if it was a by-product of the harsh reality of the life he lived, you weren't sure. Either way, his calm and almost lazy facade cracked. When the world was quiet and his feathers could sense every mundane movement in your apartment, his anxiety that those small bumps in the night might be something that could hurt you overwhelmed him.

The little display was an annoyance to your sleep-deprived brain, but his first thought in the midst of his worry was to protect you. That spared him from your groggy wrath. 

"Lay down, McNugget. There's no one there," you grumbled, but he didn't turn his head away from the door. 

Feeling your hand on his face seemed to snap him back into the moment, even if just a little. He leaned into you and encased you in his wings. It felt like a protective gesture, but the warmth you found beneath them made you hum pleasantly. The fluffy white cloth of his hoodie rubbed your cheeks as he cuddled into you. Well, actually, it was your hoodie. 

At one time it was just some old thing you'd snagged from a thrift store on a chilly day. It was much too large for you, though. When Hawks came into your life later on, you'd cut holes out of the back and hemmed it up. That way he'd have a little something to throw on when it got chilly at your place. He never said it out loud, but he loved the thing. He'd go looking for it if you didn't leave it laying out in the living room. 

"I know you usually have a lot to be afraid of, but you don't have to worry about protecting me. I'm a badass, remember?" you whispered into the shell of his ear. His shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he puffed out a little chuckle. 

"Yeah, I know. I just… I want you to be safe. That's all." 

Your gaze softened, though he couldn't see it in the darkness. You didn't need Hawks to protect you. You didn't need a hero. You needed a best friend; a lover. Between the both of you, he was the one in most need of saving.

"Shh," you hummed gently. Your hair lifted from your pillow and danced slowly around your face as if gravity was lost to you. He scrunched his nose as your locks brushed his cheeks, and his wings settled flat as a ring rose from the floor around your bed. The translucent wall came together above your bodies to form a hard, bubble shell.

"You've been the hero long enough. Let me be the protector tonight,” you said. His throat bobbed against your shoulder as his arms wound around you. He settled, but you still felt his unease.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me,” he said. His voice was muffled since his mouth was pressed into your skin, but you still heard the sadness in it. “I should be taking care of you.”

You blinked as you soaked in his words. For a year you pined for such romantic things to come out of his mouth. Of course he’d wait for a night like that night to say such sickeningly sweet things. The future that used to feel so full of mystery and excitement had become dangerous, uncertain, and disappointing.

“You don’t have to be the hero every time,” you replied.

“But if I’m not a hero, what am I?”

His question was an echo of your fears. The ambient light from your window filtered dimly into your forcefield, but your eyes couldn’t adjust with tears in them.

“I don't know if I have the answer you're looking for, but... Do you remember when I was in the hospital?" you asked. "When you first came to see me you brought a twenty-piece box of chicken nuggets, and while I was trying to eat one you laughed until you were crying because it looked vaguely like a penis.”

“Vaguely? It had balls and everything,” he recalled, and you rolled your watering eyes.

“Whatever. It was stupid, but it was the first time I laughed since I was trapped in that hospital. And, well… when they said I’d never walk again you helped me out of bed. I cried myself to sleep some nights, but you were there, still trying to save me. You were trying to be a hero then, too, but you became my best friend. If nothing else, that's what you’ll always be to me.”

A sound came out of him akin to laughter. You shot him a look, then hooked your finger under his chin. You wanted to see his dumb grin when you berated him for poking fun at you. When his eyes met yours, though, they weren’t crinkled with laughter. They were red and watering.

“Oh, Hawks,” you breathed, and he tucked his face back into your arm to hide his vulnerability. He never cried before. At least not in front of you. He was always the immovable one, virtuous and strong. Moments like this reminded you just how human he was beneath it all.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” you assured him in a whisper. Gentle promises spilled from your lips like lullabies, and he clung to every word with heart-breaking desperation. You whispered every sweet nothing you could think of to ease his pain, but you didn’t have that kind of power. 

You had no power at all.

His world always seemed scary to you. You feared for his life every day, but the thought of him being ripped from your arms overwhelmed you that night more than it ever had before. The protective bubble that encased your bed would keep him safe for as long as you could fight sleep, but what of the morning? You’d be safe at home, and he’d be lost somewhere in the dangerous fray of his duties. Far away from your warmth and the apartment he found so much comfort in. 

This would not be the last time you held him. You had to believe that, but what if it was? What if this sleepless night was your last together? 

Tell him you love him, you thought to yourself. Tell him before you never get the chance again. 

You bit your lip as you felt his trembling breaths on your collar. You prepared your lips for the taste of the confession, but he was so vulnerable, more so than he may have ever been before. He didn’t need you to tell him about your affections, he needed you to use them.

You placed a reassuring crown of kisses along his forehead, and he gripped you so hard his knuckles were surely white. 

When you’d cried as a child, your mother would lay in your bed and sing lullabies until you fell asleep. Your voice was untrained and awkward compared to hers, but you tried your best to use it. Your off-key tune echoed back to you in the dome of your forcefield, and your cheeks pinkened with how childlike it sounded. Your embarrassment interrupted your lullaby. He stirred against your chest.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please, sing to me.”

You cleared your throat as you gathered the courage to start again. His eyes fell closed as your song settled into the safety of your shield. His feathers relaxed, and his face went slack as sleep slowly overtook him. You sang until his tears stopped flowing. You sang until he was asleep in your arms. For as long as you could, you laid awake. If you succumbed to sleep, so would your forcefield. So would your promise to keep him protected through the night. As time moved slowly forward, sleep inevitably began to settle into you, too. It was as terrifying and as peaceful as death.

“I love you,” you whimpered as you felt your eyes grow too heavy to fight back open. “Please… stay safe.”

Credits: 

A massive thank you to my wonderful friend and editor, @fuwafuwagem​! If you thought the fic looked especially polished, it’s thanks to her efforts!

Also a big thank you to my buddies and beta readers: @dendriticheep​ and @narcolepticroses​! Thanks you guys for being such sweet friends to me ;u;

And a huge thanks to YOU, for reading !

Authors Note:

I’d love to do a lot more fanfictions like these! If you have any suggestions or requests for animations or animated stories like this one feel free to submit it to me!

[riewritten]

27 WHAT SHOULD BE

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you, no y/n | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description, explicit sexual content, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, trauma, implied/referenced sexual harassment, implied/referenced abuse, attempted murder, overdosing

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

He cleared his throat and then rested the paper on his table. “No. Enter.” As you handed the document in your hand, you playfully sneaked on it.

“Erwin, they just handed me the budget regarding—oh.” You stopped at the door in quite a surprise. Erwin was smiling on the bookshelf, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “Did I interrupt something?”

“I thought it’s good news, but this paper seems old.” You pondered. “Can I read it?”

Erwin sat on his office chair and started browsing the report you gave him. “As long as you don’t laugh. It’s something from my cadet years.” 

“I will certainly laugh, but okay.” You slightly leaned your back on the table. “I thought the art behind your handwriting is inborn. This one’s messy.”

Erwin heaved a small chuckle. “Cut me off some slack, that’s just a silly scribble.” And so you started reading it. You released a snort as soon as you came to the first line. “I told you not to laugh.” He glanced at you.

“What is this even?”

“That’s not from me. I just helped a friend in completing it.”

“Riveted by your gentle croon, singing on the dawn of becoming a brave soldier, to obtain the happiness of two…” After reading it out loud, you pondered for a while then snorted again, “You didn’t write this for yourself.”

“Because sweet words don’t suit me?”

“In another world, it definitely would.”

Despite your very genuine answer, Erwin thought you were offending him. “You’re becoming blunter lately. While you’re not wrong on that because it’s Nile’s and I begrudgingly helped him hence the writing, that must not be the attitude of someone who shamelessly cried in public all because someone treated her to dinner.”

You cleared your throat to hide the flush of embarrassment. “That’s not the reason I cried. It’s because I—” lived in a world I wasn’t supposed to exist. “—had a bad dream.”

“Is that so? Must be very bad then. Soldiers say you’ve been smiling a lot and you made them feel like teenagers in love again.” You loudly laughed at that and so he muttered a weak “See?” to further prove his point. 

Even before you could retort to that, Levi knocked on the door. “Hope I’m not interrupting something.” He walked towards Erwin’s table to hand another document. “About the battle strategy for the next expedition. For your approval.” 

Erwin hummed and tapped on the table so Levi would put it there. He didn’t shift his attention to the budget paper you gave him. “Captain Levi is trying to get an expense for tea again.” He mused after a while.

“You're not the one to talk when you seem satisfied with the wine budget allotted for the upcoming get-together." Levi grimaced.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” Erwin forced a laugh as he put his stamp on it. 

“Also, the nobleman Reeves is acquainted with already confirmed the schedule for the partnership meeting. They want it to happen this evening.”

“Really? They should’ve said so sooner.” You remarked. “It will take a while ‘til I get there.” You replied as you remember this is exactly how you responded back then.

“And that’s the thing. They personally want to have Erwin there.” Skimming through your mind, you realized what the meeting is about. 

“Fine with me. They offered lots after all.” He then looked at you. “You’re going with me.”

“And this,” Levi handed the green coat to Erwin. “You left this in the meeting room. How clumsy could you be?”

Looking at it made your eyes wide at the memory— the cloth you managed to rip from his remains that day.

Before Erwin could reach for it, you grabbed it for yourself and clung to it for dear life. “I’ll hold it. We’re… going together after all.” The two stared at you for a while.

“Is that so,” Levi said in quite an amusement. And as if he remembered something, he called your name. “About the revisions you made on the battle strategy. How were you able to deduce that?”

Because I already went through it. “Just weighed down the possibilities.”

“And you put your squad in a position most vulnerable in the formation. Do you know what that means?”

You laughed sadly, “Everyone going to the expedition is in a vulnerable position, Levi.”

“I’m also up for revising it a bit. I saw some discrepancies.” Erwin added.

“It’s already concluded and squad leaders are handing it down to their subordinates as we speak. If we’re going to change it because of the susceptibility in the position then we might as well not go at all.” You replied.

“Have a triumphant death, then.” Levi turned his back on the two of you and went out of the office.

When you glanced at Erwin again, he looked bothered. Your crippling anxiety about him acting on making you quit reverberated again; you quickly pondered on changing the topic. You looked all over the room to find one until your gaze landed on the old paper again. A memory sparked in you; perhaps this was the same paper he got the inspiration to have countless letters for you after he died. “You write so well for someone barely an adult.” You took hold of it. “I’m glad I was able to see it.”

“Why? Haven’t seen one?”

You shook your head no. “I saw lots of it. It even came monthly.”

“I’m not surprised.” He replied. “What have you thought about it, then?”

“It’s sad. So many words that I wanted to hear personally became mere writings I was struggling to visualize.” You sadly muttered. “I… really want to hear those words myself.” Then it became silent. The tragedy of those moments was still bothering you even after having a second chance to change everything. “Perhaps I’m too greedy about it.”

“Whoever that was, I’m sure they wanted to tell those words upfront as well.”

“I hope they did.” His remark made you smile, “Let’s go now, shall we?”

As usual, he shot you the blank stare he tends to have whenever you smile heartily. “That face again. Odd.”

“Is it that weird?”

“Kind of.” He stood up as well and so both of you started walking outside. “But definitely not a bad thing to see.” 

Upon recollection of what was supposed to happen today, it came to you that it would rain by evening. Just like any other attempts to have him alone with you at every chance you could get, the opportunity of the weather is something you wouldn’t waste.

“I can’t believe they tried to do that.” You flatly remarked as soon as the meeting was concluded.

You’re on your way back to the barracks now. The merchant you went to this evening had put a drug in Erwin’s wine so he’d be wasted enough to make a scandal. Originally, you dismissed yourselves without saying a word, but to make things different and to delay stuff so you’d be stuck in the rain with him, you instigated a commotion this time around.

“And I can’t believe you lost your composure like that.”

“It’s not a big deal. I just gave them a word.”

“Undiplomatically.” He clarified.

You pursed your lips tight to hold a laugh and ignored his remark. As you opened your palm to feel the anticipated raindrops, you remark. “Oh no, it’s starting to rain now.”

"They probably thought the Survey Corps still wasn't worth investing in so they intended to switch to the Garrison. Seems like that’s it for our partnership." Erwin looked at the sky as well. "We're lucky that was the last appointment we have for today." You found an empty gazebo that could temporarily shelter the both of you. You clicked a smile then. Your plan is successful. "Are you glad we're stuck under the rain?" Erwin asked as you walked towards it; his eyebrows were curled.

"No. Why would I?" Your smile didn't falter though. You barely wiped up the wet drops on your uniform as soon as you landed on the roof. “I’m just glad we were able to find a shelter this quick.”

Erwin seems to be quite accustomed to your oddity this time around so he ended the banter there. You’re thankful he was able to adjust to it quickly as you’re well aware he’d be lost on how to jive into your sudden friendliness. He ended up talking to you way more leniently as well— more open, lighter even. Had the previous you were aware he would easily reciprocate your persistence, you would have done this immediately. After a while of pondering, he said. “A rain this hard makes me remember how challenging our formation becomes during expeditions. Some titans move slower due to the lack of natural light, but some could still function with ease. I remember having some of your squadmates die because of that.”

“Right. This bugs me the most during my nightmares.” You mindlessly muttered.

“You have nightmares?”

“Don’t we all have one?”

“I rarely have one because I sleep very lightly, but you’re right, it constantly comes in deep periods of sleep.” Another memory from his letter— “When I touched your face for the very first time, the death of your brother showed up to me in my sleep. On the day I brazenly repeated the same mistake by resting beside you, your brother came back with all of our fallen comrades to put me in my place. Their voices got louder since then, and I just know better than to anger them more.”

“Do you hear our comrades whenever you dream?”

“I dreamt of your brother recently.”

“What did he say?”

“He said a lot of things,” Erwin pondered. “—and he was angry.”

“If there’s someone who knows him the most in this world, it’s me, and I can assure you he could never be angry with you, Erwin.”

“You don’t know that. It’s been so long since he died.”

All this time, you thought that if you end up giving in to your feelings, this man would do all things necessary to make you quit; you were utterly afraid of that. You still think that’s what he’d do until now, but at least you’ll be able to stop it because unlike before, you understand him more. “I never saw him that happy before. You granted the life he wished to have for so long. That’s something I can never give to him.”

“And he died because of me.”

“All our comrades didn't die for your selfish wish. They have one of their own and you have to come to terms with that. You don’t own their will as they were never your pawns. They know what they came here for. My brother knew what he came for.” Erwin went silent and when you glanced at him you saw a wistful look on his face; he watched the raindrops on the wet ground. Such a gentle look, you thought to yourself. He looked mournful but unlike before, it was a gentle and open one; it’s neither tiring nor dreadful to look at. "I've got nightmares too. It's continuous and scary. I used to never get enough sleep because of it."

"About what?"

"About this world but I don't know anyone. Their faces were blurred and I used to cry about it every single time. Then you started appearing in those dreams as the only one with clear features. It’s needless to say that I was completely terrified to see you there.” 

"You wouldn't have to suffer that much had I left you alone before."

"Wrong. Your appearance in those nightmares was my saving grace. I used to loathe sleeping only to wake up in that but whenever I'm reminded that you’re here as well, it kept me in solace instead. The nightmares aren’t nightmares anymore because you’re there.” You answered resolutely. “So whether you hold me down or not, all the choices I've made and will be making in this life are mine alone. And for the upcoming expedition, whether I die there or not, only I have the right to choose it. Don't remove my will from me.” You looked at him again.

This time his wistful expression is plastered with a smile. “You’re being too kind with your words tonight. Perhaps the rain made you sick.”

“Yeah, the weather unleashed my sentimentality.” You laughed and stayed silent as you realized you don’t want this moment to end. You tried to come up with excuses to have him longer in your company. “I want to have soup, Commander.” You said after a while of pondering.

"I'm genuinely curious what's with soup that fancies you."

Oh, how you utterly despise soup. "I fancy the one who accompanies me as I eat it." You replied. Erwin's genuinely surprised look almost made you laugh out loud.

"You should stop being that blunt to me." A previous conversation struck you yet again, it was from your drunk Erwin this time; “If you showed this to me way before I would’ve just easily given in, you know?” The recollection made you laugh. That’s exactly what you want to happen.

"I certainly won't but I appreciate the suggestion nonetheless. Let's have one near the barracks."

"I haven't agreed yet.'' Erwin wryly replied.

"You never ask for my approval whenever I accompany you for a drink. Who do you think you are?"

"Your commander. That's who I am." He retorted with a chuckle.

"Hah. Who do you think I am, then?" You shot back with a glare.

"Who do I think you are?" Erwin unfolded his green cloak. You thought he'd be ready to go after wearing it but he wrapped it up on you instead. As he pushed down the hoodie on your head, he held onto your shoulder. "My prettiest soldier asking me out for dinner. That's who you are." Then you rushed down under the rain.

Despite walking quite fastly with the cold wind and raindrops draping all over you, the remark made you hot all over. As usual, you're thankful he covered you up because he'd see how flustered you are otherwise.

You felt extremely courageous since then. Not only did you ask him to eat with you, you even offered a drink under the reason that you’re way too cold for tonight (that was a lie, you just want to extend the moment). Sure enough, it didn’t come to a point of inebriety as you wanted to stay sober to relish every moment you have.

As you wait on another gazebo for carriages, he remarked. “Don’t go to the upcoming expedition. You’ve contributed lots of help as it is. I also figured there has to be at least one Scout left to oversee the succeeding steps after retaking the Wall Maria.”

You huffed at the excuse. “I appreciate it if you’d be more honest, Commander.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “It’s my personal wish to not have you there.”

I know. “I can’t say I don’t understand. I’m having the urge of holding you down from coming as well. What are we supposed to do, then? If we’ll hold each other down, should we just not go at all?”

“No.”

“Right. This talk is futile.”

“But tell me,” Erwin prompts. “If we succeeded in getting the answer and you survived, are you going to quit?”

“Peace is not what happens once we discovered the secret beyond the walls.” Remembering everything that happened afterward made you crestfallen.

“But that doesn't mean you won't continue living." He mused, "All the things I had told you when we met Marie and her children; I still mean it until now.”

“I’m completely sure that’s not what you wanted to happen, though.”

Erwin clicked a subtle amused smile then. “What do you think I’d like to happen, then?”

You held on your knuckles tight as you try to stop yourself from blurting it out. You’ve already been out of character as it is and if you won’t hold yourself back this time, he might start to shut off again. But still— “You told me that someone who’d live beside me like that will be a very lucky person, whoever they might be.” You faced him with a fluster, but you also lacked patience hence the glare. “And I told you that every people I hold with affection are reckless bastards with disturbing attraction to death; if one would prefer living beside me with fake security then they're certainly not the people I love.” You bit your lip as you attempted to not let more emotionality pave the way. Erwin looks completely taken aback already. “So I’m certain that’s not what we wanted to happen. Am I wrong?” He didn’t answer and you can’t recognize what his face says as well. “Am I wrong, Erwin?”

He called your name gently. “I don’t think I can keep up with your oddity anymore.” You know that very well. You can feel your arms limping. You’re tired and you can’t think of anything to do, nothing but wishful thinking that he's the same as he is beyond this world because you want to falter already. If you’d be honest, you’re not even sure how to change the nightmare of seeing him dead. “I know.” You begrudgingly answered.

"Your knuckles are getting bruised with all the clinching and I see you're about to cry.”

“I know.”

“And it seems like you haven’t learned your lesson as well. You know whatever vulnerability we show to each other whenever we’re alone always led to no good."

“I know. I also know it’d rain tonight and I want us to get stuck in it. That’s why I stalled ourselves by causing a commotion back at the mansion.” You sighed. “I asked you to eat dinner with me so our time alone would extend up to this moment. I know what I’m doing.”

“You know what you’re doing?” He repeated with utter curiosity. He’s completely facing you this time around. The rain had stopped and the people emptying the road signified the end of dusk and the beginning of the cold night. “I don’t think you know.”

“I know.” You glared at him but completely halted as soon as you saw the look on his face. It’s not unfamiliar anymore. You know that look well. He showed it to you a lot of times in the world where you came from. “I… completely know.” You added weakly.

He took a step forward and the proximity tipped closer. “Is that so? Then why do you sound not so confident anymore?” He asked, lowly this time. “Sure it’s not the alcohol?”

The knowing tone, the small gleam on his eyes, the slight curl of his lips. You almost perked up at the realization. “What’s the point of asking me that?”

“It’s because I'm not very exhausted tonight so you're quite in a trouble right now. It’d be hard for me to go back considering how bad you ran my patience dry.”

“And I’m telling you I’m the reason why we ended up like this—” You were cut off when he landed his hand on your cheek and pulled you until your noses bump.

“Why would you do that? Tell me.” He drawled, his tone was taunting. All the courage you’ve got since you woke up in this world died down just because of that tone. However, you pushed him to his limits. You should know better, and he can’t take your lateness to respond. “I asked you a question. Answer.”

“What comes up in your mind is correct.” You echoed his remark back at the royal castle.

Erwin heaved a deep chuckle. “What’s coming up in my mind right now is to take you home with me and give you whatever you want. Reward you for making me lose my yearslong patience in just a month.”

“Then do so. I worked hard to get you like that.” You helplessly reached out to him until your lips bump. Finally, your mind repeated over and over. You intended it to be soft, with a smile even, but his hand immediately slipped to the back of your head and pulled you harder towards him. When you released a quick gasp and gave his tongue an entrance, he quickly relished it for his own. It went for a moment and the cold place went unexplainably warm until Erwin cut it off and you slightly leaned your head due to the loss of contact. Why would he end it? It's not enough yet.

He pressed his forehead against yours, “Worked hard to get me like this? How blunt of a lady you are. How did my pretty soldier get this blunt?"

“Are you scared?"

"Definitely not for myself.” He heaved a weak laugh as he made sure the distance remained with a grip on your face.

The fluster, the unsteady breathing, and the lidded eyes can't go unnoticed by him. It says a lot about how amused his face is. "Please spare me this talk and take me already." You leaned again so he'd continue the kiss. He didn't grant you that yet as he's completely taking pleasure at how desperate you are.

“How do you want me to take you?”

“In any way you can.” You pleaded. You’re more than sure about it. The only thing left to do for tonight is to assure him your comrades can never get angry at the love you’re about to give, that he doesn’t have to have nightmares about it. So he’d be able to sleep soundly in your embrace. Just like how he did for you when you’re still struggling with your own nightmares. “Reward me for being a good girl that ran your patience dry.”

You almost heard him mutter a curse under his breath but the kiss he planted on your forehead immediately calmed him down. He hummed in concurrence. “Is that okay? I doubt you’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

previous chapter | next chapter

this chapter was heavily inspired by erwin's AU smartpass. i LOVE everything about it. and i published this story last july 19, 2021, which means it's been here for a year now. yay :)

i'm currently working on changing POVs from chapter 1-13 and as of writing im on chapter 9. i don't have the motivation to do it tho and im thinking of leaving it as it is so if someone would like to help me on that, i'd be more than glad to have you (シ_ _)シ

anyway, next chapter will be purely smut. i always opt to separate the smut in every chapter so readers who prefer to skip it would have things easier. furthermore, i got really motivated by the comments you guys have given me in chapter 22, that's why i'm eager to try my best again.

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[wannabegwenstacy]

Eden's Favorite Fic's (BTS Fic Recs)

Updated Version: Here!

Note: In the past I haven't indulged in tumblr fics often but I recently (past 3 months) have been reading quite regularly & am planning on branching out a bit. To keep track of the ones that I have enjoyed & the ones that I have even came back to I'm making this list. Again, I haven't been digging into the tumblr fics world for long so for right now its a very short list. I'm hoping with time I can get more fics of different types on here (btsxbts, some gender neutral xreader ones, & more ones that I genuinely like)

About me to understand what's going to be on here:

Age: 21 (99' liner)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Ult Bias: Yoongi

Trio: Rap Line

I am OT7. I do enjoy smut but don't think it is necessary to FF. Overall I just want a well-crafted plot that makes sense. I read for entertainment & to escape. But I still need some form of realism (just me personally) to follow the trail of events. PSA: I'm trying to find a broader scope of writers I like but for right now I don't have many. There are gonna be some repetitive writers for now.

______________________________________________________________

Kim Namjoon:

- Librarian Namjoon Universe by @jungshookz

Beauty & the Bookworm (I love this concept SO MUCH)

Pairing: Cute, Good Boy, Nerdy, University Librarian Namjoon x Bratty, Semi-Popular, Procrastinator, University Student Reader

Word count: 20.8k

Summary: You're a procrastinator big time and you may or may not be failing. To get some extra credit you begrudgingly take the library assistant opening where you work under strict dorky Namjoon. Passive aggressiveness, cuteness, fluff, & some smuttiness arises.

Jealous-Boyfriend-Librarian Namjoon (Drabble)

Pairing: Jealous Boyfriend Librarian Namjoon x Oblivious Cute Girlfriend Uni Student Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You take an Art History Course and end up needing a tutor. Joon offers to tutor you but he doesn't know shit about Art History so you end up getting tutored by an ArtHoe Taehyung that may or may not like you but you are oblivious to this and Joon gets super jealous.

Kim Seokjin:

- Hockey Player Jin by @ve1vetyoongi

HEART OF GOLD (BLADES OF ICE)

Pairing: Sweet Hot New Hockey Player in Town Jin x Ex-Figure Skater (who has a history with jin) Reader

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart. (Jimin is a bully in this and their other k-pop idols as characters. Very Very Fluffy and Hallmark Christmas Movie-ish so be aware of that. Overall, it's just cute :) )

Min Yoongi:

Note: these are all but one by the same writer @jungshookz & are written from the pov of a female reader. I'm gonna try to find some gender-neutral fics but for now, if you are female-identifying I really enjoyed these! :)

- Mechanic Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Baby, You Can Drive My Car (My favorite AU Fics I've read so far on Tumblr!!)

Pairing: Tatted, Mic Drop Era, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Spoiled Rich, Inexperienced, University Student Reader

Word count: 24.6k

Summary: Welcome to Min Mechanics - What can I do for you today, doll?

Maybe She Can Drive His Car

Pairing: Oblivious, Hot, Boyfriend, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Adorable, Spoiled, University Student, Jealous Girlfriend Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you would be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

- Uni Yoongi x Nerdy Reader (mini series) by @jungshookz

Note: these are all drabbles I'm gonna link my favorites in the series. I'll probably add more later.

Cocky Uni Student Yoongi x Nerdy Reader:

^^This is the start of the mini-series, recommend you read it first!^^

The One with the Scrunchie:

Contains: smut, a super cute scrunchie turning into a kink of sorts, slightly insecure Yoongi, experienced Yoongi, slightly inexperienced reader, shy about their own body reader.

Yoongi always had an Overactive Imagination:

Contains: talking about sex, implied smut, reader trying to be productive while also being horny, Yoongi being super distracted and horny.

"I'm gonna need you to shut up now please"

- CEO Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Suit&Tie (First Fic in the series)

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Wordcount: 21k+

Summary: Young Intimidating Hot CEO Yoongi, Clumsy Secretary Y/N who loves Sugar, Best Friend Jimin. Funny Awkward Meeting that sets up the whole plot, was like reading a Kdrama in book form.

The One Where Augst D makes a Comeback (Favorite Fic in the series)

SPOILERS READ PRIOR DRABBLES TO CATCH UP!! (I recommend The First Date, The One Where Yoongi is Just a Little Jealous, The Proposal, The Wedding, Baby Makes Three, Baby Min's Timeline, The Birth of Baby Min, Daddy's Little Girl, Who the Hell is Augst D.

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: Yoongi finds out you faked an orgasm and he's going to gi-give it to you more ways than one.

- Demon Yoongi by @jungshookz

Hellish (I got some feelings for incubus Yoongi not gonna lie)

Pairing: Bratty, Super Sexy, Sex Demon, Mint Min Yoongi x University Student, Non-Supernatural Believer Reader

Word count: 22.1k

Summary: Jungkook is your clueless, energetic best friend. Wonho is a character in this fic, You are dragged into summoning a demon one night by your overly excited to be summoning a demon? best friend Jungkook. Spooky but Kind of Sexy Shit Happens! (This is probably my second favorite Yoongi Fic I've read!)

- Basketball Captain Yoongi by @jungshookz

Basketball Captain Yoongi

Pairing: Cocky, Popular, Charming Captain of the Basketball Team Min Yoongi x Water girl University Student Reader (who has been crushing on Yoongi hard for some time)

Word count: 18.4k

Summary: Jungkook is your athletic bro of a best friend that signs you up to be his replacement as the water boy (girl in this case) after he makes the team. You have had a pathetic schoolgirl crush on Yoongi for a while and is basically the only reason you agreed to be the water girl aside from spending time with Jungkook. It's fluffy & smutty!

- Android Yoongi @jungshookz

Technologically in love (..I cried! but I also smiled a lot so you know this is well written)

Pairing: Personal Assistant Prototype but SUPER Lifelike Android Min Yoongi x Messy, Junkfood, & Cartoons Loving Reader (basically your early 20s living alone kind of vibe)

Word count: 24k+

Summary: You live in a Detroit Becoming Human type universe but prior to a lot of the advancements. Androids are already a thing but not to the level the M1N Y00NG1 is yet. You are best friends with all the boys and they happen to be engineers which is how you ended up with Yoongi in the first place. Namjoon created Yoongi as a personal assistant prototype android & you are told to live with him. Things get fluffy, SUPER ANGSTY, and super smutty!

- Listen Closely by @avveh

Listen Closely ( sexiest Yoongi fic I have read so far, I kept wanting to go back and read again)

Pairing: Tsundere Office Worker Min Yoongi x Hardworking Office Worker Reader

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light. (SMUT 18+: Masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breathplay, spanking, degrading names.)

Jung Hoseok:

- Secret Boyfriend Hoseok by @kpopfanfictrash

Keeping a Secret (this took me places...Idk about you but I have trouble finding really good Hoseok fics and this one was perfect. One of my favorite fics on this website)

Pairing: New Relationship Dom Hoseok x New Relationship Tease Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated? SMUT!

- Studio Sex Hoseok by @joonbird

Studio:

Pairing: Boyfriend BTS Hoseok x Girlfriend Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax. (Hobi being the beautiful glorious sexy man he is and putting those ungodly hips to use!)

Park Jimin:

- Jimin and His Pregnancy Kink by @boymeetsweevil

ME, YOU, AND THIS THING WE HAVE BETWEEN US (NSFW)

Pairing: Sweet Caring Domestic but Horny Jimin x Pregnant Hormonal Reader

Word count:~3.7k

Warnings (aka what to prepare for): everything is graphic and gross lmao, blowjobs (face f*cking), boob job (not the one w/ silicon inserts), cunnilingus, dom!jimin if u squint, cumplay if u squint again, dirty talk/degrading language, penetrative sex (doggy style), unprotected sex, PREGNANCY KINK that’s a big one

Summary: You’re pregnant and Jimin is…happy about it (If I remember correctly this one is 25% cute domestic Jimin trying to calm his hormonal pregnant partner and 75% pure filth aka Jimin having a pregnancy kink and trying to hide it but not well at all. This is however my ultimate fav Jimin smut I have ever read!)

- Crush/Neighbor Jimin by @sketchguk

Lover to Lean On: (I absolutely adore this fic. Overall it's just really well written and I felt like I was watching a show in my head rather than reading a short Tumblr fic. Highly recommend it!)

Pairing: Cute Customer & Neighbor Jimin x Florist Reader

Word Count: 19.9k

Summary: For months, you can hear your no-face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. Above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. You’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course, you’re bitterly single. But one day, the apartment is radio silent. And one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. So on Valentine’s Day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

Kim Taehyung:

-Roommate Taehyung Universe by @jungshookz

Stuck with You

Pairing: Frat Bro bit of an asshole Roommate Kim Taehyung x Clean Organized bit of a Pushover Reader

Word count: 37k

Summary: Kim Taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things to ever happen to you. Librarian Namjoon is your Best friend and ex-roommate. Frat bro Jeon Jungkook makes an appearance. There is so smut and implied smut.

The One with the One Year Anniversary (Drabble)

Pairing: The cutest domestic boyfriend Kim Taehyung x girlfriend reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: NO SPOILERS! so I'm going to give you a quote: "well, um, look! I made breakfast for you. f-for us!" Also, SFW

Jeon Jungkook:

- Gamer Jungkook by @softyoongiionly

PRESS START (this is the cutest fucking smut type fic I have ever read! it is so pure and is the exact type of relationship I want! IT MADE ME SIMP SO HARD!) gender-neutral I believe!

Pairing: Night owl Gamer Domestic Boyfriend Jeon Jungkook x Witty Domestic Cutesy Relationship Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: A night in with your boyfriend Jungkook includes all kinds of things: anime, witty banter, snacks from 7-Eleven and, you know, sex. (GREAT READ!! I AM A SIMP FOR THIS FIC!!)

[awesomerextyphoon]

Madripoor Musings

Summary: You’re undercover as Zemo’s Sugar Baby while you’re with the team in Madripoor. You seem to like the position a little too much and Sam gets jealous.

Parings: Sam Wilson x Black Female Reader, slight Zemo x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Warnings: FATWS Spoilers, Smut, Oral (f receiving), Light Choking, Angst, Semi-Public Smut,  Daddy Kink, and Slight Emotional Manipulation

A/N: Ran into another writer’s block so I’m using prompts from this list to get myself out of it. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

“So, are we good to go, everyone?”

The four of you were jet-setting in Zemo’s private plane to Madripoor to get info on this new version of super solider serums. Zemo came up with the idea of having Sam go undercover as the West African weapons dealer/smuggler, Smiling Tiger. Bucky returned to his ‘Winter Soldier’ mode and you were to become ‘Miss Erina’, Zemo’s new arm candy/Sugar Baby.

Your backstory was simple: you’ve been with Zemo since before he went to prison living in his many estates and luxurious apartments.

It took some time for everyone to get into character. Sam tried and failed to pull off a Nigerian accent while Bucky kept up his hard glare and glower routine. You and Zemo put on the perfect couple facade with the both of you placing semi-sensual touches on each other’s bodies and showering each other with (sometimes lewd) compliments.

“Oh, thank you for the necklace, Daddy!” you gushed loving the way Sam was fuming. Bucky almost broke his character trying not to snicker.

“Nothing’s too much for you, котёнок/kotyonok (kitten).” Zemo mused as he offered you a coy smirk and leaned in for a kiss.

You giggled as he placed kisses along your jawline, neck, and collarbone.

“We’ll continue this later, киса,” Zemo whispered while winking at Sam.

 ––––

 Madripoor was amazing, to say the least. It was a cyberpunk wet dream with bright lights at various angles and two distinct levels giving off a Black Lagoon/Blade Runner/Ghost in Shell vibe.

It felt like your kind of town.

It’s been like this since the Snap. Your older sister died in a car crash right after Thanos’ victory. Your father and uncle were blipped into the ocean dying instantly. Nowadays, your mother could barely talk to you without crying.

Natasha was dead and Steve fucked off to the 1940s to crush English pussy. Sharon got branded an enemy of the US Government and was forced to run. Some dumbass cracker (you will NEVER acknowledge his name) was given Sam’s rightful shield and mantle of Captain America by the craven, racist US government and had the NERVE to tell you to stay out of his way.

To top it all off, you found out that the US military tortured a man for 30 YEARS in order to ‘make the perfect soldier’.

You were finally in a place that matched how you felt.

“We’re heading into Low Town. Be on your guard, everyone.” Zemo warned as he lifted your chin and kissed you again. He insisted on walking towards your escort.

“Why do I have to wear this again? I look like a pimp!” Sam whined while looking sexy AF in his Ankara (I’m saying it’s Ankara) suit.

“Don’t mind him, Daddy. Sam has no sense of style.” You joked snuggling closer to Zemo.

“We’re not at the club yet.” Sam pointed out, vexed at the way you were clinging onto Zemo.

“We cannot let our guard down, Wilson. Selby has eyes everywhere.”

Sam relented and tried not to look your way. It was tempting due to you wearing an amazing Burgundy Fashion Nova Sugar Free Mini Dress with Black Bow Whoa Pumps. Your curves were out, but not in a shameless manner.

You had class, yet you were a tease.

 ––––

 The ride to Selby’s was nothing short of thrilling.

You were right about the overall aesthetic. Madripoor definitely has the ‘dystopian punk’ feel on lock.

“You look radiant, котёнок.” Zemo cooed as you kissed his neck liking how smiled at Sam and inwardly cackled at Sam’s glower.

 –––––

 Several men and some women moved to make a pass at you on the way to the club. A few audacious men learned that you were Zemo’s the hard way, Bucky made sure of it.

You had to mask your displeasure at how many people were shooting appreciative glances at Sam.

You just hoped this escapade would end soon.

 ––––––

 Zemo advised everyone to aim straight for the bar wrapping his arm around your waist as he strode into the club. Sam and Bucky followed suit slipping into their Apex and Winter modes respectively.

The bartender licked his lips as he looked you over, “Thought Selby told ya you ain’t welcomed here, Zemo.”

Zemo raised an eyebrow, “I know, but this is important,” he eyed several bouncers making their way towards your group. Their moves did not faze the baron. He simply turned to Bucky and whispered in his ear.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to let loose. You could’ve sworn a couple of people were ready to shit themselves.

 –––––

 Selby was...interesting. She/They gave off a pretentious ‘I’m always ten steps ahead’ aura with a bit of fake whimsy. She/They wanted to give you to one of her best clients and keep Bucky for herself/themselves (probably for sexual reasons, didn’t want to pry).

The conversation was going well...until Sam’s phone went off.

Insert facepalm.

You’ve told him time and time again to put his phone on silent and get rid of vibrate. Now he was gonna get y’all killed, but you said,” Fuck it!” and shot her/them and the #2.

The group had to book it and you cursed yourself for wearing non-running heels.

 _____

 Your asses were saved by a guardian sniper, Sharon. You were glad to see her again missing your bi-weekly movie nights and sporadic weekend brunches.

“It’s good to see you, Sharon.” You greeted as you hugged Sharon at the entrance of her High Town pad.

“It’s great to see you, too, even after you’ve destroyed my work.” Sharon lowered her voice while pressing her lips together in frustration and then lust at the sight of Sam’s deliciously thicc upper body.

You couldn’t blame her as you wanted to run your hands and tongue along his planes of muscle.

You listened in on the group’s conversation as you changed clothes seeing Sam’s distress at Sharon and Zemo’s words. They did have a point about how being a hero does ring hollow, but it still hurt to see Sam’s sadness and hurt.

 ––––––

 You found Zemo, bless his heart, dancing like a lost dad on the dance floor and started grinding against him while shooting Sam a sexy pout accentuating your sensually full lips.

Sam, for his part, was trying to look interested talking to a waitress with killer legs. He almost lost it when he put his arms around your waist.

“Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him,” you whispered wrapping your arms around his neck. He knew that Sam hasn’t been giving it lately.

 ––––––

 Your little stunt lasted for about ten minutes before Sam stomped over grabbing your arm and dragging you into one of Sharon’s ‘private rooms’ after another man got too close to what was his.

“Why did you drag me away like that?!” you shouted secretly turned on by the raging fire in his eyes.

“So you like calling your men ‘Daddy’?” Sam demanded as he backed you into the wall.

“I’m your ‘daddy’ now, vixen.” Sam breathed while lightly dragging his finger up your thighs only to find no panties.

“No panties, huh?” he smirked as he twirled his forefinger around your clit causing you to moan.

“Fuck, I love hearing you moan. Say my name, vixen. Don’t care if Sharon finds out.” Sam murmured against your lips. He effortlessly lifted you in such a way to make you wonder if he got some SS serum. It didn’t hurt that you got to see his muscles bulge underneath his turtleneck as he landed your blessed backside onto one of the tables.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” Sam ordered as he forced open your legs and made his way your slit leaving open-mouthed kisses and love bites in his wake. “You're already soaking for me, baby.” he mused as he gave your slit a long lick.

You could barely keep yourself from moaning.

“Who's your daddy, baby?”

“You are!”

“I’m your ONLY daddy!” Sam shouted and dove in.

You were drowning in ecstasy.

Sam was hitting all the right notes with your pussy. He was always a G at eating you out. Sam swatted your hand away from your mouth, “I want everyone to know who your real daddy is,!”

He kept you on edge for nine excruciating minutes before he finally let you orgasm.

“No time for rest, vixen.” Sam chided as he flipped you on the table ass up with your dress bunched up around your chest,” Are you a good little vixen?” Sam breathed in your ear as he placed kisses along your ear, neck, and collarbone.

“Yes, daddy.”

“You’re damn right I am!” He sheaved himself into you in one swift motion. You moaned in delight at the sensation. He didn’t move no matter how much you begged him, “Tell the world who your daddy is,” he instructed as he slapped your plump ass.

You screamed out his name and Sam started thrusting. He gently wrapped his hand around your neck while demanding you to shout his name. Sam pounded into you at a relentless pace constantly hitting your ‘Cum Dizzy Sector’ turning you into a delightfully orgasmic mess.

Sam was reaching his limit so he played with your clit to make you finish first. You came with what felt like an earth-shattering orgasm with Sam coming with a primal roar not too long afterward.

Both of you were so wrapped up in orgasmic bliss that you didn’t notice Sharon, Zemo, Bucky, and a few other partygoers at the door.

“So, how did go?” Sharon teased as you tried to cover yourself up.

“How much did you see?”

“Hmm,” Sharon hummed while tapping her chin, “Enough for me to close a $19.8M art deal.”

“We’re getting a 10% cut.” Sam barked annoyed with the rest of the group reigning in on his smash time.

“Fine. Get dressed, I got a lead.” Sharon announced while smirking all the way to her quarters.

You smirked at Zemo as you made your way to the exit.

Worth it.

[sixteenthshen]

post-finale stuff

Possible spoilers. Beware

Last night, I happened to check the scriptwriter's Weibo and saw that she had liked this fan's post. It's the only non-work related Weibo post that she had liked, so of course, I went to read it. 

The fact that this is the only fan post she's given her approval to must mean that it is on point and she agrees with the characterisation. I thought it's pretty good, so I've gone ahead to translate it here. I own 0 rights to this. I just thought it's a good perspective that may help others like me who struggled with the ending. 

I think I've mostly made my peace with it now, and to sum it up:

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all that they are. 

A-Xu never once blamed Lao Wen for how things turned out because he understood that. And he’s clearly a better person than I am (lol).

Let me be clear about my stand - the real victim of how the drama unfolded in the last six episodes is WKX. When we feel our hearts ache for ZZS, it's because the show let down WKX (the character). If your heart is only hurting for WKX during episodes 33-34, you should try to ship WKX with someone else, ok? If you think the last six episodes were great and that WKX was very romantic (and only romantic), then I honestly don't know what to say. 

I ship wenzhou. That means I like both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu. I want them to love each other, be good to each other and live happily ever after. And I want them not to be OOC. 

The rest behind the cut. Spoilers for the whole drama. 

------- 

First, the source. Here is a link to that Weibo post, by 爱吐槽的栗小姐. I will delete this if requested by the OP - because this is really in a grey area imo. But I think the intention of a public post is for it to be shared? (especially something like this, which argues a point) 

Secondly, the poster does try to be fair in her post, but as the problem here is WKX's ruined characterisation, ZZS's character is analysed primarily concerning this issue only. There's quite a bit left to ZZS's character and backstory that isn't relevant. I believe that's why the post doesn't elaborate on it, or so I hope.

-------

Ever since WKX faked his death, I received three to four waves of fellow sister fans' mournful wails: "Lao Wen actually faked his death; does he have a heart?" "They were supposed to be of the same heart and treat each other with honesty. How did they regress?" "What happened to their innate soulmate-ness?" "Why does A-Xu always say to face things together, yet Lao Wen always keeps his plans from him?" "A-Xu loves Lao Wen, yet Lao Wen only loves himself"…….

Wait. What have you guys misunderstood about the meaning of soulmates? 

Soulmates are about values, but a person's behaviour… that's methodology FFS! 

(Do they no longer teach this in political affairs class in high school anymore?) 

Wenzhou, these soulmates, are incomparably compatible and mesh well in terms of values. According to the scriptwriter, the entire jianghu wants and tries to get the pieces of Glazed Armour, save the two of them. Not only do they not care for the peerless martial arts, immense power, nor the massive wealth that the Glazed Armour represents, they don't even care for the power they hold in their hands –Ghost Valley and the Window of Heaven. Both of them willing to give it up without a second thought. 

Before they met each other, they were so tired of (ZZS) and so angry at (WKX) this earthly world that they didn't even want to live on anymore. 

After they met each other, they gradually began to feel the warmth in this world again. How nice it would be if they could live in seclusion, hand in hand and just bask in the sun. 

In this world, where everyone else is fighting for power or wealth, they are true soulmates. To intelligent people like them, whether or not they're honest about their identities or secrets is merely a matter of formality. They had already determined their attraction to the other's soul early on and have never doubted it. 

There may be some here who would criticise loudly at this point, "Then can't you be more considerate for your soulmate (the actual phrased used is "spiritual companion")? A-Xu has said many times, let's face everything together, I'll bet that you will be honest with me. If you really love him, then why can't you care for his feelings?" 

----- You guys, you've never been married. 

If two souls meeting can naturally resolve all behavioural conflicts and disagreements, then the theory of "breaking in" * would not exist. 

Let us take a look at what kind of a person WKX and ZZS each are.

Wen Kexing, he's a lone wolf. 

After his parents' death and his entering the Ghost Valley, his smooth sailing life suddenly fell off a cliff. Ever since then, the only person he could rely on was himself. That deep-seated hatred is carved into his bones, yet he can't speak of it to anyone else. He isn't the same type of person as the rest of the ghosts in the Ghost Valley; he isn't the same type of person as A-Xiang, who he raised. If we talk about the world and everyone who lives in it, he doesn't have any fetters or feels any (positive) emotions. 

His supposed craziness is a form of indifference. He's indifferent to others' lives, nor his own, because he just doesn't care. (T/N: I think he does care for his own life, but only for revenge, after that, he's indifferent. Indifferent isn't suicidal. I don't know why some fans seem to be confusing the two. Although he didn't plan to, if he somehow manages to stay alive after getting his revenge, WKX will continue to live on, even if it's only to keep A-Xiang happy because he is indifferent.)

Growing up like this, being solitary became his style. He's used to doing everything alone, used to making his own decisions, used to digesting all his emotions himself. 

Every time he argues with A-Xu, he digests his emotions himself. The next day, he faces A-Xu with a smile again. 

This is how he loves, to take it upon himself to face danger, difficulty and pain alone. It's how he had supported A-Xiang all these years in the Ghost Valley and what he's used to. 

While Zhou Zishu, he's a lead horse (of a herd). ** 

Since a very young age, he's taught to take responsibility. He's used to bearing everything on his shoulders, be it the responsibility of his family or the responsibility for the Four Seasons Manor, even the responsibility for saving commoners from disasters. 

Unlike the lone wolf, the lead horse is ultimately a social animal. 

Regardless of his identity as the Manor Lord of the Four Seasons Manor or the Leader of the Window of Heaven, he's always the one to lead the herd and rarely fights alone. So, A-Xu not only has leadership ability but more than that, he also knows how to be tolerant and accepting of the differences of his team members. You can see the various ways he managed to influence Lao Wen along the road; he's firm when he needs to be and soft the other times. It's absolutely textbook in managing your lover workplace management. 

Zhou Zishu believes in communication whenever there's a problem, that they should be open and honest. So, teamwork is what he's used to. 

Does it mean that when a horse and lone wolf fall in love, that there won't be a breaking in period? 

Obviously not. 

I guess this is where some may say again, "isn't this part of a character's arc/development? The two of them quarrel time and time again. Did WKX not grow at all from it?" 

Of course, after meeting each other, they both grew and saved each other.

When he first left Window of Heaven, A-Xu was lonely with regret. Unlike the lone wolf who's used to doing everything alone, a lead horse without the last of his herd has no way to bear the bone-deep loneliness and merciless self-recrimination.

ZZS wandered around this world aimlessly until Lao Wen started pestering him, until he picked up Zhang Chengling, right up until he felt he hadn't singlehandedly destroyed the Four Seasons Manor. This lead horse finally regained a goal in life. He gained a partner and a lover. Lao Wen sticks to him, Chengling relies on him, and the abandoned Four Seasons Manor became like-new in his hands. He finally reconciles with himself. 

When he first came out of the valley, Lao Wen carried a rage strong enough to burn the world down. But when he met A-Xu, he also met the beauty of the world. 

When the Four Sages of Anji died, WKX understood how he caused innocent suffering. When Gao Chong walked to his death knowingly, he understood that although some may desire power, they could still be righteous and upstanding people. When he learned of everything Long Que sacrificed to protect his family***, he finally relaxed his guard. 

There were so many types of good people and things that he saw along this journey that he hadn't seen in the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu told him he was a good person as they basked in the sun, he genuinely wanted to return to the human (vs ghost) realm and be a good man. 

Along their journey, A-Xu made up for the morals and values that WKX lost in the Ghost Valley and showed him a new world outlook. He appeased Lao Wen's anger, tempered his extremism. The process wasn't easy, but not that difficult either, because, in the end, Lao Wen is kind at heart. 

But in the end, being a lone wolf is how he survived and succeeded in a place like the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu was so heavily injured and needed a lot of rest (for Wu Xi) to save his life, Lao Wen suddenly recalled his enemies and how such an excellent opportunity to take revenge just fell into his lap. Everything was in place, and all he needed to do was hide it from A-Xu; he could leave for a short while and have it settled quickly. Upon returning, he could then live happily ever after with his wife. To a crazy lone wolf, why would he not take a gamble? 

What he couldn't predict was the news would've been leaked (to A-Xu), and he didn't know that by doing so, he would've forever lost his love. 

Both of them were using their own methods to love the other person. Zhou Zishu is more forgiving and accepting because being forgiving is in his blood. While what WKX learned in his years in the Ghost Valley is -- love needs to be protected, like how he has A-Xiang, who he considers a sister, call himself master (to protect her). 

Only when faced with painful consequences can a person's deep-rooted habits and approach to things change. So I don't think faking his death ruined the characterisation of Wen Kexing, but I regret that the last two episodes did not have a scene to show us Lao Wen's heartbreak when he learns the truth. 

Until I know what it feels like to have lost you, I will only love you in my own way. 

T/N: 

*I can't think of the correct phrase for this as I don't read all that much about relationships >< please let me know if you know of it. Here, I'm referring to the process of wearing something new (like shoes) that will hurt at the start until it becomes soft and comfortable. 

** I did some side-reading, and omg, A-Xu is TOTALLY the lead mare. Although he's not the stallion and weak/dying for most of the show, he's the head of their little family, and he expects "to be obeyed", aka, I'm not going to learn how to cook. Call me for dinner. Kthxbye. 

From Rutgers' website: A herd of wild horses consists of one or two stallions, a group of mares, and their foals. The leader of the herd is usually an older mare (the "alpha mare"), even though one stallion owns the herd. She maintains her dominant role even though she may be physically weaker than the others. The older mare has had more experiences, more close encounters, and survived more threats than any other horse in the herd. The requirement of the lead horse is not strength or size; if this were so, then humans could never dominate a horse. Dominance is established not only through aggression but also through attitudes that let the other horses know she expects to be obeyed.

***I think this is important here because WKX wasn't crying for his loss. I think a big part of him was realising not everyone in the world was callous and turned their backs on his parents, that he could've gone his whole life without ever discovering what sacrifices some people have made. Good people suffer quietly and in silence. It's a big moment to realise he was wrong about many things that he had let hatred blind himself to the world. Because although he was sad about the Four Sages and somewhat shocked by Gao Chong's death, he hadn't truly faced up to his actions until now. 

(screenshot of the scriptwriter liking the above post) 

------

To add: 

I'm not sure how many of you read my "opinion" posts, but I've been struggling to find a way to accept the last six episodes of Word of Honor.  I first tried looking at open forum postings, comments, and Tumblr posts. None of it worked because it was just arguing and emotions and no one made points good enough for me to accept things. 

So I gave up and went back to reading Chinese sites. I found many posts discussing the plot. Some I liked, some I didn't, but none satisfied my need for a reasonable explanation. I felt they had biases (both ways), or else it lacked logic. After a time, I realised that I should be looking for WKX-stans (or pro-WKX fans) because they would be more motivated to explain his side, but also because well-written posts by wenzhou-fans & ZZS-stans made me super sad.

I'm sorry, but those who keep trying to explain why the ending was good completely missed that episodes 32-34 are the real problem to those who don't like it and only focused on 36. I can understand if people don't think those episodes are a problem, but no one could provide an articulate and sensible reason. There are just too few well-reasoned plot-focused posts in English (sorry). I've seen too many examples of WKX-fans arguing with people who are upset about the ending, backed by nothing more than "look how much WKX suffers, woe is him. And how romantic is this????" *dies* 

Lastly, if you spot anything inaccurate, let me know & I will correct it.

[therenlover]

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong. 

Laszlo Kreizler

NO

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.  

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist. 

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour. 

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple. 

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions. 

That’s where the problems would begin. 

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine. 

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry? 

Oh it would be over for him. 

The yelling would never end. 

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling. 

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm. 

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back. 

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert. 

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he���s supposed to be. 

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college. 

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation. 

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again. 

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother. 

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor. 

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight. 

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad. 

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family. 

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend. 

Niki Lauda

NO

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons. 

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties. 

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey. 

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door. 

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal. 

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette. 

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most. 

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature. 

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings. 

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps. 

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual. 

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help. 

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it. 

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no. 

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation. 

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it. 

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it. 

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud. 

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never. 

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake. 

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks. 

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father. 

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him. 

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time. 

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin. 

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music. 

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin. 

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige. 

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along. 

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family. 

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier. 

Ernst Schmidt

NO

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory. 

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings. 

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family. 

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could. 

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually. 

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit. 

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues. 

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist. 

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on. 

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing. 

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house. 

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally. 

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other. 

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family. 

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one. 

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him. 

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18. 

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either. 

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t. 

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first. 

Oh how they’d learn, though. 

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone. 

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces. 

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults. 

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else. 

And that something would be my flirty aunt. 

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way. 

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long. 

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him? 

That’s even more difficult to deal with. 

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions. 

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them. 

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone. 

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances. 

For now, though, he’s safe.

[dekus-afro-pic]

Smile For The Camera

Dabi x Fem!Reader x Hawks

⚠️ warning ⚠️: This fic includes the use of Dabi and Hawks real name which are spoilers to the manga. This fic also includes non-con sex with Endeavor, murder, crying, SWEET SWEET REVENGE, and Villan Hawks

Summary: After months of being held captive by the number one “hero” you finally snap. When you reunite with your childhood friends, whom you thought were dead, your opportunity for revenge is brought to you ona silver plater. Art by @brttpaige

Burns and bruises littered your body and the man on top of you was to blame. You scratch at the hand that was around your throat as you felt yourself losing oxygen. The “hero” slaps your hands away and strikes your face as he continued to thrust into you.

“Just take it,” He grunts above you “Give me what I want”

Tears were no longer streaming down your face but that didn’t stop you from wailing in pain as his hips met yours. You refused to look into his eyes when he hurt you this way. Knowing that if you did, he’d only go harder. You didn’t want this at all. How could he not see that? You didn’t expect your close friend’s father to be such a…monster.

How could you not know y/n? He killed his own son for Christ's sake. And soon, he’d kill you too.

After Endeavor finishes his load inside of your womb, he zips up his pants and leaves. You laid there, in the bed of an apartment that he kept you captive in, and shuddered. You knew two things for certain.

You are not going to bear his child and you were going to kill Enji Todoroki.

You crawl towards the nightstand and pull out a plan-b from beneath it. After swallowing the pill dry, you make your way to the bathroom to tend to your injuries and cleanse yourself of that monster.

Unbeknownst to you, someone watched the whole ordeal take place. Dabi’s blood was boiling. How the fuck could the number one “hero” be capable of such actions. But then again, heroes weren’t all that they seemed. His chest tightened as he watched you use your water quirk to heal your bruises. You shouldn’t be going through this. You should be out there getting rid of villains like his “father”. He knew he had to get you out of there. He pulls out his phone to inform the others of his plan. But for it to succeed, you were going to have to make the first move.

And that you did. Once your body was back to an ok state, you start packing everything you could. Your toothbrush, clean clothes, the little food you had in the beat down apartment, 2000¥ ($20 USD) you stole from your abuser, and your only second pair of shoes. You were on a mission to get out of there as fast as you could.

It was a Friday night, meaning that Endeavor was out playing pretend with his family. The looks on their faces once you reveal his secrets were ones that you want to cherish forever. You couldn’t wait until the world finally knew who it was idolizing.

You wasted no time opening the bedroom window and sprinting down the fire escape stairs. You held the duffel bag close to your body as you ran down the dark alleyway. You were free. You were finally free.

After running for what felt like 20 minutes you finally stop to give your aching lungs and legs a break. You didn’t know where your legs had taken you but from the looks of it, you were farther away from the apartment than you had imagined. You weren’t complaining though. The farther away you were from that wretched man the better.

You sat in a quiet alleyway for some time. You reach into your bag for a water bottle as you pressed your back against the brick wall. When you looked back up from your bag three men were standing on the opposite side of the alleyway. As the men inch closer to you, you realize that there weren’t three men. It was one man with gigantic wings.

“Hey kid. I know this might sound crazy but” He said grabbing you and your bag with both his hands “You’re a package I need to deliver.”

“What the fuck let me go” you struggle against the stranger's hold. Your actions are stopped as he rose in the air. You cling to his chest for dear life hoping he wouldn’t drop you.

“Where the fuck are you taking me bird brain?” You yell against the roaring winds. He didn’t answer you, he only smiled as you continue to spew curses at him. “I swear when you land I’m going to DROWN you”

Finally, he lands in front of a relatively big house in the woods. Once his feet touch the ground you use the water in his body to make him punch himself. Before you could swing at him with your fist, his feathers lifted you off the ground and carried you into the house.

“Hawks is back” you heard a girl squeal “And he brought her too.”

Hawks’ feather dropped you on your bum as the man walks off. The girl from before comes into your line of eyesight and smiles. She had blonde hair which was tied into pigtails and her canines were long.

“Hi I’m Toga” She introduced, holding out her hand to help you up. “The birdie who flew you in is Hawks, he’s Dabi’s boyfriend. Welcome to the new and improved League of Villains super-secret hideout. Don’t tell anyone though. Or I’ll have to kill you”

“Y/n” you reply as you take her hand. “Why am I here? I’m no villain.” At least not yet you weren’t.

“Dabi has told us all about you. Which is why you’re here. He should be around here somewhere” She wonders off. You hear her yell “DABI” Before she returns with Hawks and another man, who you assumed was Dabi. You flick your middle finger at the birdman as he walked closer to you.

“Aww don’t be like that kid. I was only trying to help” He said with a smile. With the proper lighting in the house, you got a proper look at the man. His wings were a bright crimson color and his blonde hair was done messily. He had a long scratch from above his right eyebrow down to the middle of his cheek. Overall the man looked familiar.

Damn this man is gorgeous. If he didn’t have a boyfriend I’d want a piece of that.

You flinched when you feel his hand touch your shoulder. On the defense, you twist his arm behind his back and push him away from you. When you realize what you’ve done you quickly apologize “Oh shit. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s fine” He reassured with a smile “it’s obvious that you're on edge. I shouldn’t have done that”

“Yea...on edge” you turn to the other man. His eyes were bright blue and the majority of his skin was covered in burn scars. Staples pierced his skin in various places. “You must be Dabi”

“Correct. But you can call me Touya”

“Tou-?”

“Follow me” He interrupts. You follow the couple down the hallway. You passed multiple rooms. In one room, a man with visible dry skin sat in front of a medium-sized tv with a game controller in hand. Maybe he’d let you relieve him one day.

“I’ve been watching you Y/n” Touya begins “I’ve seen the things that man has done to you”

You stopped in front of a brown door. Hawks stepped in front of you with a softer look.

“You’re going to get your revenge little birdie. But for now,” Hawks opened the door to the room. It was gorgeous, to say the least. A queen-sized bed was centered in the room with the smell of vanilla faint in the air. “You’re going to relax”

You dropped your duffel bag as you slowly walked through the threshold. You make your way to the bed with tears blurring your vision. Hawks place your bag on a vacant chair while Touya makes his way towards you.

“So you’ve been in hiding this whole time?” You question the man standing in front of you.

“Yeah pretty much” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck “I was supposed to come back for you but you went off the grid. Now I know why”

“Where’s Keigo?” You ask.

“What did that monster do to you?” The blonde reaches out to caress your face but you flinch away. “I’m Keigo, Y/n”

“Some friend reunion we have here” You joke.

When you realize that you were indeed not captivated in some beat down apartment panic sunk in. What if he finds you? What if he’s already sent out people to look for you? What if these were the people he sent out?

“Hey” A single feather lifts your head to look at both of them “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He won’t find you here. And if somehow he does...we’ll just kill him”

Dabi nods his head in agreement. You wrap your arms around both of their bodies with tears running down your face. Keigo leaned into your touch while Dabi just pats your head stiffly.

They tell you to adjust to your new room and get cleaned up as they leave your room. Once Keigo closes your door, he buries his face into his hands.

“Did you see her arms and legs Touya?” He sobs, “She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days”

Dabi places his hand on his lover’s back, guiding him to their shared room. “Don’t cry Keigo. We’ve successfully finished phase one of the plan. We need to get ready for phase two”

———————————

“Ok you two. What’s going on?” You ask your two best friends.

“It’s a surprise y/n, we can’t tell you” The blonde laughs as Touya guided you through the wooded area. The white blindfold did its job at hiding the world from your view. You felt the boy to your right stop walking as the other untied the white cloth.

The view before you was breathtaking. “Happy Birthday Y/N” frosted onto a small cake with balloons tied to tree branches.

“Guys you shouldn’t have” You giggle.

“You’re our best friend Y/N. You’re going to have to get used to celebrating your birthday” Touya scolded.

Little did the three of you know, that was going to be the last time you would be together.

The scene started to change. The woods were engulfed in bright flames, screams were heard in the distance.

“KEIGO!” you scream. “TOUYA!WHERE ARE YOU?”

The smoke covered everything around you. You choked on the thick smoke as you tried to avoid the flames. You scream louder for your friends. But you never found them. You trip and fall over a fallen tree branch. You look up and see your abuser standing over you.

You try to crawl away from him but he catches you by your hair.

“No. Please” you cry. “TOUYA! KEIGO PLEASE HELP”

“Y/n. You can’t escape me” He growls in your ear.

Just seconds before he could throw you against the burning tree, your eyes shoot open as you send icicles flying everywhere. You scream as you feel hands grabbing your own. Your eyesight still blurry from waking up, you swing at the person in front of you. “LET GO. LET GO! GET OFF ME. KEIGO, TOUYA HELP ME”

“Y/n calm down it’s me. It’s Keigo” The blonde whispers. Your eyes frantically search for his. Your body shakes while you sob as you held Keigo’s face in your hands.

“Keigo, where were you? Keigo don’t let him get me please don’t let him get me” You choke out, “I don’t want to go back please don’t send me back. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“He won’t find you baby bird” He cooed. He places your head on his chest as he rubs your hair soothingly. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again” He stays true to his word and drifts back to sleep with you in his arms.

Touya woke up to an empty bed. Confused, he brushed his teeth and went to check up on you. When he opens your room door he finds you asleep on top of his boyfriend’s chest. His boyfriend, on the other hand, was wide awake. He looks over at the door when he heard the floorboards creak.

“Shh. She had a rough night” He whispers.

“What happened?”

“Night Terror about him. She was screaming our names so I came in to check on her. She almost cut me with an icicle.” Keigo explains.

Touya slides underneath your cover on the other side of you. You stir at the sudden movement which causes Keigo to stop breathing.

“Goodmorning Keigo” you groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes “and Touya”

“Goodmorning little one” the latter replied, “how are you feeling?”

“Tense” You yawn. You wiggle out of Keigo’s hold and walk towards your duffel bag. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to uh..take a shower”

“Across the hall”

You say a quiet thank you and exit your room. The couple let out breaths that they didn’t know they were holding when they hear the shower starts.

“We have to do something. And quick” Keigo whispers “Did Toga and Shigaraki already leave?”

“Yea. They should be back later tonight with our special guest. But for now, we need to calm down y/n”

The water dripped off of your skin as you stepped out of the steamy shower. After drying off, putting on clean clothes, and brushing your teeth, you walk back across the hall to your bedroom. Before you could sit back down on your bed, Keigo’s there with his hand stretched out for you to take.

“Hey, there birdie. Come with me” he says.

You take his hand and followed behind the blonde. He brings you to the kitchen, where a tall shadow man was making lunch.

“Hello young y/n” He spoke “I’m Kurogiri”

“Nice to meet you” You smile faintly. “Keigo I’m not hu-“

“Yes you are y/n” Touya scolds from behind you. “You haven’t eaten since I don’t know when. At least eat the seaweed out of it”

He pulls the chair out for you to sit and sits directly across from you. Keigo takes the seat on side of you as Kurogiri places your bowls in front of you.

“Shoyu Ramen?” You inhale the steam coming from the bowl. It smelled delicious. How long has it been since you had this?

“You always ate this after training and I suspect that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in-“ Touya was cut off by your loud slurping “years”

“Stalker” You laugh before stuffing your face with more ramen. “So how long have you been watching me?”

“Well, we’ve been looking for you since we turned 20” Keigo answers. “Touya here found you just last week”

Your response was a loud hum as you drank the broth of your meal. You couldn’t help the satisfied sigh that escaped through your lips. The food was just that good.

“I’m kind of grateful that you abducted me when you did. I’d probably still be sitting in that alleyway.”

“Y/n if you don’t mind me asking” Touya begins “How long has he been..”

“6 months” You sigh, “I was dropping Shoto off at home one night and that’s when he took me to the apartment. I had no contact with the outside world. No tv, no phone, not even a god damn newspaper” You felt your quirk activate, causing the water in the glasses before you to boil. “I swear, the next time I see him I’m going to boil the skin off of him”

“Whoa there princess” Keigo uses one of his feathers to rub at your thigh to calm you down. You relax at his touch and bring the raging water to a stop. You grab Keigo’s hand in an attempt to regulate your breathing.

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, “I know you two are up to something”

“It’s a surprise” Touya smirks “you’ll find out after dinner.”

You spent your day sandwiched between the two men in your new bed watching movies, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. It was strange how you didn’t feel like a complete third wheel. Instead, you felt like you were apart of the relationship and you were happy. You can’t even remember the last time you had a good time like this.

At last, it was dinner time. The two left your room minutes prior to “prepare your surprise” in Keigo’s words. You decided to change your clothes while you waited for the ok to come down. Just as you finished up, one of Keigo’s feathers tapped your shoulder.

You were greeted with blue and yellow eyes when you entered the dining room. Feathers pulled out your chair while the others sat down in their seats.

Fish, rice bowls, and other foods were placed on the table. You ate in silence, mainly because you didn’t want to choke, while the others talked amongst themselves.

“Y/n-Chan” Toga whined “Why are you so quiet over there?”

“The food is so good,” you say after swallowing a mouth full of rice, “I want to eat as much as possible”

Kurogiri nods in your direction at the compliment. Dinner goes on with Dabi and Shigaraki arguing over who’s the strongest and You and Keigo exchanging flirty glances and middle fingers.

“Hey Y/n, Trynna steal my boyfriend?” Touya teases.

“You’re going to have to share Mr. Blueflame” you tease back. Everybody laughs as you two keep going back and forth.

“Alright Alright. Dinners over. Time for your surprise Y/n” Touya announced.

Everybody looked at you with sinister smirks as Keigo helped you out of your seat. You were led to the basement where two seats were on opposite sides of the room with a camera in the middle.

You sat in the chair closest to the door and watched Touya and Shigi bring in someone in handcuffs with a trash bag over their head.

“Guys what’s going…” you stopped talking when Shigaraki dusts the bag off the person’s head. But it wasn’t a person, no.

It was him. The monster that kept you captive for months. The monster that stripped you of your innocence and ruined your life plans. You felt your blood begin to boil as you stood out of your chair.

“Y/n?” The older man groaned. Touya punched him in his jaw before he could speak again.

“Don’t you dare say her fucking name” He spat. He then turned to you with soft(ish) eyes. “Don’t worry. The cuffs are quirk canceling”

“Do your worst baby bird” Keigo whispered into your ear.

You motioned for everyone to move out of the way as you walked towards your new captive. “Remember this face in your next life” You whisper.

You boiled the water in his body and smiled at the bubbles visibly forming on the surface of his skin. As the man before you screams in pain, you walk towards the camera that was recording the whole thing.

“Smile for the camera Enji. Why don’t you tell little Shoto where’d you take me all those months ago. Why I could no longer pick him up from school on Fridays” You toy with the corpse. You watched as blood began to seep through his skin “You’ve always told me to give you what you want. This time it is you who will give me what I want”

“Hey Dabi” Keigo whispered “Is it just me or is Y/N kinda hot when she’s committing murder”

The ravenette nodded at his boyfriend’s statement. You were indeed hot as hell murdering his father. Your abuser. He froze, just as he was about to add a comment, when you spun the camera around to face him and Keigo.

“Say hi Dabi” You smile at the two. “Hi Hawks”

“You’ve officially lost it baby bird”

“I agree. Crazy looks good on you” Touya adds.

You turn the camera off and hand it to Kurogiri. You walk over to the couple with a pout on your face “He’s dead now. My fun’s over”

“Oh no no no” Touya teasingly pulled you into his chest by your waist “The fun is just beginning. Right, Keigo?”

Keigo pushes his groin against your ass and nibbles on your earlobe.“That’s right babe” he whispered “We’re going to help you reclaim what’s yours”

——————-——————

A/n: So there’s smut to this fic😭 but I won’t post it unless this does good. Anyways, HAPPY NEW YEAR.

[ladyfloriographist]

Descent of Man

[Image source]

Pairing: Commander Joseph Lawrence (The Handmaid’s Tale (TV)) x femme!Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS, Canon-Divergence, Non-Canon, Post Season 3, Repression, Oppression, Dystopic Future, Dystopian Themes, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mentions of Death, Traditional Gender Roles, Religious Extremism

XXXX

“Straighten your back, dear. Don’t slouch.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

You tighten your grip on the handle of your red leather suitcase as you walk up the concrete path that leads to Commander Joseph Lawrence’s front door. Nerves in your legs tingle back to life. The drive from the Red Center was long, and Aunt Lydia had counselled you to mind your patience when you’d grown restless. But now, as you make your way to the crescent-shaped steps, you can’t help but hope for even one minute more in the van.

The overcast sky looms grey and ominous overhead.

“Remember, the Commander is a very powerful man.” Aunt Lydia’s cane clacks on the concrete alongside your footsteps. “He is very well respected, Ofjoseph. This is quite the opportunity for you.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

The old Victorian becomes grander and more imposing with every step you take towards it. Your gaze lifts higher and higher: first floor, second storey, then dormers and a tower that let light into what must be the attic. Stonework and Roman arches over the windows and doors signal the age of the house—it has to be at least one hundred years old.

“He has suffered great losses recently, as you well know.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.” She had recited the story over and over—and made sure you could tell it back to her, too. Your and Aunt Lydia’s footsteps fall into stride along the concrete path, fast approaching the stairs up to the house.

“His dear Wife, Mrs Eleanor Lawrence—may God protect and keep her—and then his Handmaid, too.” The Aunt tuts. “Oh, that wretched girl. I’d had such hopes, Ofjoseph—but you won’t disappoint me so, will you, dear?”

“No, Aunt Lydia.” The knot in your gut tightens.

“No, good girl.” Aunt Lydia modestly raises her brown skirts to ascend the concrete steps with grace. “Posture,” she says pointedly, brow arched, looking back at you with an appraising, approving glance before she knocks on the large black front door.

Just before you bow your head to look to the concrete beneath your feet, your eye is caught by something to the right, attached to the burnt-orange bricks that make up the gloriously antiquated home.

It’s a black wooden plaque, with three golden numerals in the centre framed by a golden ovoid ring.

132

You glance down quickly. You should not even be making an attempt to read, whether it be letters or numbers or anything. If Aunt Lydia saw recognition register on your face, she’d march you straight back to the van to return you to the Red Center for the swift removal of one of your fingers.

Leniency, for your first offence.

“The Commander has been very gracious in accepting you, Ofjoseph. You have a privileged place here.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia. Praise be.”

“Mm,” Aunt Lydia hums in righteous agreement. “Praise be.”

…But still, it strikes you as unusual, as you stare at the grey concrete, that such a plaque should even exist, now. Such decorative tiles are relics from the time before Gilead—forbidden, now, and what’s more, utterly useless. How could such an inscribed plate remain intact when there are no more street signs to direct your way let alone numbered houses?

The front door swings open, shocking you out of your thoughts.

“Blessed day. Come in, Aunt Lydia.”

A female voice. Younger? Deferential.

A Martha: one of the two you’d been told to expect here.

“Blessed day, Sienna, thank you,” Aunt Lydia replies pleasantly. “Come along, Ofjoseph,” she says promptly, without a look back at you as she steps inside.

The interior of the Commander’s house greets you like, once, a warm hug might have done. Off the foyer is two sitting rooms, and they seem dark, but not sinister inside. The walls are papered with cranberry-red brocade and muted-toned, aging florals, or else—painted with rich, deep hues of colour. Dark-stained wood pocket doors with etched glass inserts lead to one sitting room and an archway with a stained-glass transom at the top leads to another. The heavy, patterned curtains inside make the sitting rooms feel cosy and private—even, dare you think, warm. Full and ornate bookshelves, rugs of paisley and Persian patterns, and an abundance of leather seating furnish the cluttered rooms.

“This way, please,” offers the Martha named Sienna, gesturing through the open pocket doors.

You follow Aunt Lydia, your eyes struggling to adequately absorb every detail of the room. Lamps on side tables, artworks from many different Schools arranged effortlessly on the walls, chests, sculptures, a chandelier, a fireplace.

Cushions and blankets strewn over the leather couches. Stacks of books lazing on armchairs.

An old, freestanding record player in one corner.

Knowledge, art, and music all reside here.

The house is lived in. Still. Even now.

“Can I getcha a tea, some coffee, Aunt Lydia?” comes a man’s voice from the far end of the room.

Before you can think better of it, your gaze snaps to the sound of his voice—relaxed, even casual in tone. He stands just inside another arched opening, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. A generous head of ghost-white hair tops his head. He has thick grey brows and a white beard peppered with silver and grey. Thin-framed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He wears a waistcoat, and a buttoned vest with a scarf tied like a cravat, in an ascot knot.

It’s the first you’ve seen a man of Gilead not dressed in a black suit and black tie.

“Commander Lawrence,” Aunt Lydia smiles, with only a slight waver in her voice. “Blessed day, Sir.” Your raised wings catch in her periphery and she glances at you with beady eyes.

You drop your head immediately, quickly and quietly pretending like you’d been studying the many colours in the Persian rug beneath your brown boots.

The Commander’s gaze flicks to you—not that you see it—before he looks back at the Aunt. “Hi, yeah,” he says, “blessed, good morning.” He calls down the hallway, “Sienna?”

You shift on your feet, tightening your grip on your own gloved hands where they rest in front of you. The Commander’s casual, informal, incorrect greeting stirs a sense of unease in your stomach. Was he merely distracted or… wilfully disrespectful? Could you even think such a thing, about a man like him?

Beside you, Aunt Lydia bristles, drawing in a sharp, quiet gasp. But she settles herself quickly.

“Sienna!?” calls the Commander again, louder this time before turning back to his guests.

Well, his one guest, who brought with her the newest member of his household.

“’d you say coffee, Aunt Lydia? I think Beth made scones.”

“Ah…” the Aunt hesitates, gathering herself in a way you’ve rarely seen her need to do. “Oh my. Tea would be a delight, Commander,” she recovers. “No need to waste your delicacies on me!”

“Hm,” Commander Lawrence huffs a mirthless laugh in response to Aunt Lydia’s self-deprecating smile, and the resulting silence is broken by a set of hurried footsteps that quickly enter the room.

“You called for me, Commander?”

The young Martha, her rich brown eyes wide, a sheen of sweat making her warm-brown skin glow, her voice slightly breathless.

“Auhm, yeah,” says Commander Lawrence, swivelling to address her. “Tea, please, Sienna—and bring three cups, would ya? Some of Beth’s scones, too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Three cups?

“Thanks.”

“Three?”

Aunt Lydia’s incredulous voice cuts through the room like a warm knife in soft butter. It’s so abrupt, so much shriller than you are used to that your gaze flicks upwards.

The Aunt’s round, wrinkled face is dropped in an expression of pure shock. The room is silent, even Sienna’s retreating footsteps have ceased, as the three of you look between each other—stunned in the face of this blatant and brazen flouting of Gilead-sanctioned decorum.

It seems, as tested as Aunt Lydia has been since arriving at the Commander’s house, that this act of hospitality extended to you, a Handmaid, is the extent of what she can handle.

For the first time since meeting him, you spot a hint of a smile flicker across Commander Lawrence’s face, as elusive as the passing of a shadow, or a ghost. “Three, Lydia,” he says quietly, with a self-assured confidence that dares her to question him further—especially since he refused to use her title.

The air is thick with tension. You hold your breath.

Aunt Lydia’s lower lip quivers as she searches for words. Her brow creases, her small eyes flitting between his as she holds the Commander’s gaze.

You hear her suck in a breath before she speaks again.

“Th-hank you, Commander Lawrence.” Aunt Lydia swallows. “Praise be, you are most generous, Sir.”

Everything breathes again. Footsteps recede down the hall once more, the walls themselves sigh with relief. For a moment you almost think you hear birdsong outside—but that’s next to impossible, over all the radio chatter.

“Welcome,” the Commander replies, lazily omitting words in his speech once more. His tone is breezily self-assured once again, but his dark eyes have hardened into a cold stare. He turns his gaze on you. “Sit.”

You look to the floor so quickly there’s a twinge in your neck, and you drop into the nearest seat. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Under His Eye, Sir.”

“Alright,” the Commander cringes at your nervous rambling. “No problem, just, yeah. Siddown.”

You clasp your gloved hands together in your lap, your eyes fixed on the tiny balls of lint that have gathered near the seams. Everything about this man, from his clothes, to his manner, to his home, is contrary to what you’d been told to expect.

“Please,” says the Commander to Aunt Lydia, gesturing and offering for her to take a seat also. He walks around one of the armchairs, picks up a stack of three books and unceremoniously drops them on top of the existing stack on a nearby side table so he can sit down, too.

Aunt Lydia, frazzled and just barely recovering from the disrespect afforded her by the Commander, uneasily sits down on one of the brown leather couches. She sits like she’s perching on it, not quite setting down all her weight, on an angle to take up only the smallest possible amount of space.

She clears her throat. “Commander,” she forces a smile, shifting to face him, “it is my great hope that Ofjoseph will bring some,” she pauses, anxiously looking around at the many artworks and stacks of books that decorate the room, “stability, to your household, Sir. By His Hand.”

“Thanks,” says Commander Lawrence. “’ppreciate it.”

“I…” Aunt Lydia stammers again, stumbling over the Commander’s audacious disregard for social custom. It’s unorthodox—or rather, much worse—it’s a deliberate, transparent, shameless violation of his role as a Commander in the Republic of Gilead.

Lost for words, Aunt Lydia merely nods her head in deference. Her fingers flex around the gilded handle of her cane.

The Commander hums to clear his throat as Sienna brings a laden tray into the room. One teapot, three teacups, a plate of scones, and one small ramekin of butter.

The Martha sets it all down on the coffee table and the porcelain rattles softly in the stifling silence.

“Thanks, Sienna,” says Commander Lawrence, leaning forward to pour himself a cup of tea as the younger Martha leaves the room. “Hey, uh,” he sits back in his armchair, cup and saucer in hand, “you.”

You feel his eyes on you. This is how he chooses to address you? To draw your attention to him? ‘You’?

The stillness in the room is expectant, now. You tell yourself to lift your head.

“Ofjoseph?” Aunt Lydia prompts you.

Commander Lawrence speaks over the top of her. “Look at me.”

You lift your gaze to meet his. There’s nothing hard or soft in his stare, nothing warm or cold in the way he regards you. He merely sees you—his eyes observing, his lips in a line that neither smiles nor frowns.

He’s a wall, but built to defend or protect, you can’t read right now.

“My last Handmaid was a bit of a rabble-rouser,” he says easily, his voice nonchalant, “so I'm gonna say to you the same thing I said to her, ‘kay?”

You swallow, absorbing his candour. Aunt Lydia had told you never to speak of the last Ofjoseph, even if it was asked of you. But this particular question posed by the Commander requires more than a passive response. You get the sense that a number of conversations with him will be like this, and so you steel yourself to speak with a clear voice. “Yes, Commander.”

He keeps his gaze locked with yours, and brings his steaming teacup to his lips. He takes a slow sip, eyes trained on yours, and you resist the urge to shrink and shrivel into yourself.

The Commander swallows and sets his cup onto the saucer. It clinks, and after letting the small sound land for beat he says lowly, “You’re not gonna be any trouble, are you?”

Your breath catches, your voice stalling in your throat. Staring at him heats your blood, makes your palms perspire in your gloves. The man is dignified; he holds himself almost regally wherever he sits or stands. Is it the power he holds that makes him handsome, or is innate attraction purling in the pit of your gut?

…What will the Ceremony be like with him?

“No, Sir,” you say, your voice so soft it cracks. You gulp and collect yourself. Timidity does not seem to be a quality Commander Lawrence respects—another lesson you’d ardently learned only to be proven useless in his house. With more confidence, but not too much, particularly for Aunt Lydia’s benefit, you say, “Praise be to you, Commander, and may He make me truly worthy.”

You can feel Aunt Lydia’s presence lift with pride. You can see the smile spread across her face without needing to look at her, and can hear her words in your head without her needing to speak them.

‘Very good, dear,’ comes the Aunt’s voice in your mind.

The Commander looks you over, stoic as ever. “Ya,” is all he says in reply.

“Ofjoseph is one of our most promising Handmaids, Commander, allow me to assure you,” Aunt Lydia chimes in, now, finally, feeling on equal footing again. “Since the horrendous tragedies that your household has withstood, we thought it right and just that you be unburdened in at least this regard, Sir.”

“Unburdened?” the Commander replies flatly, his stalwart gaze now fixed on the Aunt.

You’re not sure whether you can look away from him. Does he wish for your eyes to remain on him? Does he expect you to look at him and from him at your own discretion? Would he like you to use your own judgement?

Regardless, it is clear that the decision of the Red Center Aunts to provide a pious, docile new Handmaid as consolation for his wife’s death is—at the very best—unappreciated by the Commander.

But whether or not Commander Lawrence appreciates the gesture and the gift that the Aunts have made you into is, ultimately, not your concern. Your first and last and only priority is that you fall pregnant with Commander Lawrence’s child as soon as humanly possible—or it’s the Colonies for you.

However, you being his sixth Handmaid, the Commander needs you to fall pregnant with his child just as quickly—given, especially, the sudden exodus of most of Gilead’s children seemingly overnight.

“Forgive me, Commander,” Aunt Lydia frowns, her eyes softening apologetically. “I only meant—”

“’s fine,” he interrupts, setting his cup and saucer back on the tray. “Tea’s gone cold, anyway,” the Commander stands from his seat and straightens his waistcoat, clearing his throat. “You can find your way out, Aunt Lydia?”

“Certainly, Sir,” Aunt Lydia assures him, mirroring his movement and standing from the sofa, somewhat uneasily on her injured leg. On instinct, you rise to your feet too.

“Til next time,” the Commander says, his voice laced with sarcastic fondness, as he strolls from the room and into what must be his private study. He doesn’t spare you a single backwards glance as he pulls another set of pocket doors closed behind him.

Silence settles over the sitting room like night.

Just like that, the visit concludes, and the realisation washes over you.

You’re not leaving with Aunt Lydia, when she goes, which she’s sure to do in just a moment.

This is it. The transaction is complete.

Your place is here. This house is now your home.

“I’ll be back the day after the Ceremony, dear,” Aunt Lydia says, leaning on her cane to stand. “In about, oh!” she pauses, looks at you with bright eyes, “seven days! Oh, sacred number. Blessings, Ofjoseph. May God bring forth His miracle.”

You muster a smile for her. Despite how this woman screamed at you, berated you, withheld your food and your sleep and denigrated your sense of self until you believed you were worth nothing more than being impregnated and delivering a healthy baby, her absence from your daily routine will be an adjustment.

You say, “Under His Eye, Aunt Lydia.”

She cups your cheek. “Under His Eye, dear.”

The Aunt makes her way to the door, met by Sienna and the second Martha, Beth, who stand in the foyer to see her off. The front door closes behind Aunt Lydia, and as soon as the latch locks it’s as if a dark, heavy storm cloud lifts from the house.

The Marthas sigh and relax, chattering eagerly and bickering animatedly about tonight’s dinner and even complaining about the Commander’s fussiness as they strut down the hallway to the kitchen. From the other side of the house, you hear a flare of music go up: some kind of Big Band era song, with trumpets and tubas and horns playing vivace—lively and fast.

The sun peeks out from behind the shroud of overcast sky, lighting up the sitting rooms with the glow of mid-afternoon.

You take a breath.

This old house feels alive.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Eddie Brock x reader x Venom (HC)

Requested by my amazing @sirkekselord​: GIVE ME VENOM AND EDDIE BROCK! [Rest is redacted so that theres no spoilers ;)]

A/N: Venom is in bold and thoughts in general are italic

You were young, you were dumb and you were hopeful, so of fucking course you moved to the big city (in this case San Francisco) to follow your dream of becoming an artist

Well, needless to say that you were quite naive to think that you’d just magically get dicovered and that you’d be represented in an art gallery...

Because that didn’t happen, no matter how amaizing your paintings were and how magnificent your sculptures, the gallery and museums turned you away because of a ‘lack of experience’

But you didn’t give up on painting and creating, and you didn’t give up on wanting to make it in the big city, you’d just decided that it would take time

So the next best thing for you to do was to get a job, to be able to start paying for your own things and move out of your aunts apartement, while gaining as much experience through unpayed internships and other activities as you could

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but only a few months later you had a realitivly good paying job at a chocolatier in the heart of the city while selling your paintings and taking commission on the side, earning enough money to get a small flat all for yourself

Moving in was a whole hot mess, but you somehow managed to get most of it done in a weekend (you didn’t have a lot of stuff after all), yet having to meet your neighbors

Over the next few weeks you met a few people who lived on the floors above and below you, but the guys who were living in the apartement opposite you were a no show

At least during the times when you’d leave or get home

You knew it had to be two men who lived together seeing as you sometimes could hear them fight through the walls, but other than that you knew nothing about the two

The first time you actually met Eddie was after a shift where a costumer had managed to spill his fancy ice cocoa over you, making your whole body smell like you’ve been spending your nights at Willi Wonka’s chocholate factory

So, while you were standing in the somewhat shabby elevator, Ed was on his way to leave for his nightly “walk” with Venom, only for his body to completely freeze when he came near the stairs

“What’s your Problem?” “CHOCOLATE!”

Cue to the elevator opening and you stepping out, your gaze fixed on your phone, not realizing there was somebody else here until you straight up walked into a tall frame

That was how you’d met Eddie, the short conversation consisting of apologize and introducions before he excused himself, seemingly somewhere else with his thoughts

And after that the two of you somehow weren’t able to go for two/three days before you walked into each other again

It was almost uncanny

...or...fate? 

At first it was just in the hallway, short greetings turning into short conversations turning into inside jokes, smiles and laughs 

Then, after you got comfortable with your lifestyle and managed to asses which evenings were good enough to take some time off, you somehow ended in his favorite bar, on his usual chair

Whenever the two of you met at random places, be it the Deli at the corner, the park while you were sketching or just somewhere in the city, your conversations would get deeper and only a few months later it was like he knew everything about you and you almost everything about him

You liked him and you were pretty sure he liked you too

The only reason you didn’t act on your feelings was that, even tho you felt like you knew him, there were sstill some red flags that made you think twice...

..how he’d sometimes just stare at you with almost empty eyes...

...how, whenever you came home from your job, you’d catch him standing closer than usual...

...how sometimes, while you were out and about in the city and met him, he seemed like he was talking to himself in a hushed voice

Not to mention the thing that made you doubt your own sanity

His roommate seemed to be completely non-existend

You’d talked to some housemates and mentioned him on the offside and they all swore that Eddie lived there alone, but in the evening you could still hear two voices that definitly belonged to two different people

When you finally get the guts to ask Ed about his roommate, he just looks at you weirdly and states that he doesn’t have one, so you don’t press the topic further

It’s then that you think that it’s maybe not a roommate, but a boyfriend or something like that and decide that it’d maybe be best if you kept your distance from him 

But both Eddie and Venom (who had taken a liking to you from the distance) noticed and decided that it was maybe time to tell you about their litlle...uhm situation

It took a lot of soothing and sweet talking to get you out of the bathroom when he had showed you, but after that you slowly started to warm up to Venom

On Eddie’s advice on you started bringing chocolate smaples from your job along for him and from that moment forward he was sold

But even tho you were now friends with both Eddie and Venom, the two (or three) of you still weren’t anything more even tho Venom could literally smell how lovesick his two tiny mortals were for each other 

So he decided to help out and, one evening while you were chilling in front of the TV at Ed’s place, he wrapped himself around the two of you like a coucon, telling you he’d only let you out if you talked about the obvious

Not even promising him a chocolate cake (or a human much to you horror) got him to back off

So you talked

and then you kissed...

After that it was pretty much time for the Powercouple™

You’d read all his articles while he and Venom were the muse for a lot of your paintings and sculptures

Not long after the two of you both moved out of that apartement builduing and into a bigger one a few streets over

Venom started switching between Eddie and you (he’d stay with you at home and switch back to Eddie when the two of you went to work) 

All in all it got very domestic and cute very quick

And in a wink of destiny, not soon after a women approached you while you were painting in the Park (like so often before you included Venom into a natur envionement (even tho it was so artsy that you wouldn’t immediatly get that it was Venom)) and gave you her card, saying that you were exactly what she looked for for her newely opened Gallery

Not soon after Eddie, you and Venom (who was sharing your body at that moment) were standing in the packed Gallery on opening night, with people praising your art of the two of them

In hindsight, walking into Ed all those months ago was most likely the best thing that had ever happened to you...