#nothing gets the blood flowing like being told that the fact you’re walking and not in a coma is a medical miracle

[beenbaanbuun]

puppy w/ park seonghwa

words - 2.7k

genre - smut

warnings - dog hybrid!seonghwa, dom!seonghwa, human!reader, sub!reader, brat!reader, collaring, marking, biting, ownership, name calling (puppy, toy, master), reader is in a dress, minimal anal play, fingering, seonghwa is jealous

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“you’re a bastard,” you scoff as you storm into the living room, rage flowing through every blood vessel in your body. the smirk on seonghwa’s perfect face does nothing but make it burn even hotter and before you know it you’re right before him, fingers wrapping themselves around his purple collar and tugging him close. the smirk never fades, even when your hot, minty breath is assaulting his senses. in fact it only grows. “where are my fucking shoes?”

he chuckles, opening his mouth just wide enough for you to see his extrovert of a tongue lapping over his sharp canines. he knows the effect his tongue has on you, and the bandaid on your shoulder is proof enough that his teeth hold just as much pleasure. there’s a familiar twitch in your core and you have to squeeze your thighs together to get it to calm down. he’s a conniving little mutt for causing so much trouble on a night as important as this. it almost makes you see what your hybrid-sitter meant when he called seonghwa ‘evil incarnate.’

“now, now, pup,” he croons, his voice deep and smooth as he reaches out a hand to trail up your thigh. it sends a shiver up your spine quicker than you can push it away and the twitch in your tummy only gets more impatient. oh well, you think, with a bit of luck you’ll be getting laid by someone other than your hybrid tonight. with a bit of luck, you’ll find the man of your dreams. “that’s no way to ask a question, is it?” his fingertips walk themselves to the inside of your thigh, dipping just under the hem of your short skirt, “ask politely and i’ll consider telling you, hm?”

“or maybe you can just tell me so i’m not late,” you growl as you let his collar go and force him back against the sofa. the hand on your thigh thankfully slips away, but his amusement only grows louder. you groan, irritated that this demon of a hybrid is the only thing between you and a potential love life. “god, you’re so irritating!”

the hand that previously lay on your thigh goes to rest on his own, and you follow it with your gaze. his fingers push against the denim, the little indents in the material casting your mind back to the previous night. you’d ridden it so well, or so seonghwa told you. such a pretty pup, he called you, doing such a good job of being independent. he’d left off the words ‘for once’ but you know as well as he does that being independent isn’t really your thing. it’s why you have a hybrid, and why you’re so willing to take yourself to meet a shitty tinder date that you’re not even half as attracted to as you are your pet. you getting yourself off using his body is probably the most independent you’re going to get.

his fingertips shift higher on his thigh until they rest next to the zipper of the jeans. despite how thick the denim is, it does nothing to hide the bulge he's sporting; a bulge that seems to be growing right before your eyes. again, it was something he’d praised you for last night. the way you wrapped your fingers around him and got him to cum with nothing more than your hand. “good pup,” his words echo around your skull, “i told you you didn’t need me to guide you through it, didn’t i? so good making me cum all on your own.” the words had felt so good at the time, but now they’re just a nuisance.

you’re late.

“why should i care if you’re late?” two fingers begin to play with the brass button that sits just below his clothed navel. they tease the button hole with it, half pushing it through before pulling it back and tracing a soft finger around it. it has you salivating, knowing exactly what it feels like to be played with like that. his lithe fingers working their way around your tight cunt, barely dipping into your treasure trove before pulling back to tease you some more. it’s evil, he is evil. “i told you a week ago i didn’t like you going on this date. what do you think has changed?”

he tilts his head in a way that makes you so unbelievably aware of how condescending he’s being. it’s like he sees you as nothing more than a dumb pup in need of some guidance that obviously only he can give. he talks to you like a fool; like unless his words are slow and simple you won’t understand. it makes you feel small under his fiery gaze. small, weak and pathetic.

you gulp down the words that had found themselves caught in your throat, hoping that upon the second attempt to get them out, they’ll come much easier. they weigh heavy on your mind, and for a second, you wonder if this is really the right move to make. you could just admit defeat and just pick out another pair of shoes. you could tell seonghwa you’ll see him later and leave. you could find a way out of this so easily if you just tried.

the way he’s looking at you like you already belong to him makes you not want to bother.

“you also told me a week ago that you’d fuck every other man out of my brain if you had to,” you fold your arms petulantly, trying to hide the way your chest heaves as you make your final decision. you can go on another date with another guy on another day, right? its not like dean from tinder is the only man in the world? he’s not even as pretty as the one sitting before you right now. “i'm still thinking about other men, aren’t i?”

silence. just for a moment or two, but it’s long enough to make you aware of just how hard you’re breathing, how quick your heartbeat is.

“are you sure that’s the move you want to make, pup?” he purrs as he leans forward, an elbow on each knee to support him. “i’m not in the mood to joke about this.”

“i’m not.”

“joking?” he lifts an eyebrow, “or sure? because if you’re not sure then i suggest thinking before you speak,” in one swift motion, he stands and takes a step forward, towering over you in a way that has your mind collapsing in on itself. “if you’re not joking, then i don’t know what you’re still doing on your fucking feet, puppy.”

his hand comes down on your shoulder, fingers digging in slightly as he guides you down lower and lower. the wood of the floor is harsh on your bare knees, but as he stares you down like you’re nothing more than a pest, you realise your knees are the least of your worries. by the time the night is over, you won’t be able to think straight; seonghwa will make sure of that.

the hand on your shoulder slips to your throat, a single finger tracing upwards from your clavicle to your chin. it lifts your gaze, holding you so you have no choice but to watch him. his ears twitch atop his head as they so often to when he’s annoyed with you, the white fur catching the light beautifully. it’s really not the time to be admiring how soft his coat it, but credit where credits due; you worked hard on making him look so beautiful.

you worked hard on everything when it came to him.

“such a silly pup, thinking she can go out and meet whoever she wants,” he purrs as his sharp nail digs painfully into your chin, “all while her master sits and home and waits for her to come back to him? because that’s what i am, isn’t it; you might be the master in everyone else’s eyes, but we both know who’s in control here.”

his finger slips free from your chin, your spine relaxing the moment it does. you heave in a heavy breath, unaware of how shallow they’d become as seonghwa stared you down. the way your lungs burn with need as you take in breath after breath is deliciously painful. you can’t help but notice the way it has your pussy fluttering around nothing. it has you wondering what it would feel like to be choked, for his pretty hand to wrap around your jugular and squeeze until you’re gasping for breath. you could beg for it, but knowing him, it’d take a lot more than a few pretty words for him to comply.

“seong—” he tsks as you attempt to call out his name.

“i don’t know who that is, puppy,” he tail swishes menacingly behind him, like a dog about to pounce. you have no doubt that that’s very much the case; theres a few more buttons to push first, but you have no doubt that sooner or later you’ll be face down with your cheek pressed against the wood. you just have to push a little harder.

“master,” the word is nothing short of sultry as it drips off your tongue. you can’t help but feel proud of yourself as you watch your hybrid visibly stiffen before you. “i’m sorry,” no you’re not; not if the outcome of tonight is this, “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

his tail swishes again. just a few more buttons.

“i’m not upset,” he lies, “i’m just struggling to understand your thought process.”

“i wanted to get laid,” you answer swiftly.

“you could’ve just asked,” he rebuts as he trails a hand up to his neck to unclip his collar. “i’d have been more than happy to let my puppy fuck themself on my cock all night.”

his words are punctuated by the sound of the clip coming undone, then the jingle of the name tag as the collar slips free of his neck. his skin there always looks so beautiful, like it’s begging to be marked. seonghwa never lets you, though; he prefers you to do it in places that won’t be hidden away by the thick leather band.

“i wanted to get laid by someone other than my…” you trail off, the word you want to say right on the tip of your tongue. you know it’ll get you what you want, yet your heart still beats ten to the dozen at the thought of actually saying it. honestly, you’re not sure why it has you so nervous; it’s a fact after all. you take a deep breath. “my pet.”

his eyes darken, a sly smirk rising to his face. now you’ve done it; you’ve secured your fate. it was significantly less buttons than you thought you’d have to push, not that you mind. it’s less work for you and you get fucked in exactly the way you want to; hard and fast, like you’re nothing more than the hybrid’s bitch.

“pet?” he scoffs as he leans forwards to wrap his collar around your neck. “if i’m a pet, puppy, then you must be a fucking chew toy.” the action doesn’t surprise you one bit. seonghwa likes to see his name dangling prettily from your throat. he likes to hear the twinkling of the name tag as he clouds your brain with his cock. it’s just an extra level of possession that seonghwa craves.

you hear it fasten into place, and before you can even register anything else, you recognise the familiar bite of his fingers against your skin. he’s quick in his movements, shoving you around into exactly the position he wants as if you are really just that; just a toy for him to play with however he wants to. his hands are everywhere as he pushes your head down, lifts your hips up, arches your spine until the icy temperature of the floor seeps through the cups of your dress too. you don’t even register it as he pushes your skirt over your ass and slips your panties down in one swift movement. everything is just so quick, and within a few short seconds, he has you exactly where he wants you.

he kneels behind you as his hands smooth over your ass, kneading the smooth skin beneath his palms in a manner far softer than you’d expect of him tonight. as he spreads you open for him, you know you should feel exposed. you can feel the burn of his pupils as his studies your holes, twitching as he runs a finger over the tighter of the two. it feels strange, just like it always does when he plays with that hole, but as he hums in appreciation, you let yourself sink into the feeling. you can cope with strange when he’s whispering pretty things to you, letting you know how good you’re being, how nice you feel clenching around him. his lips come into contact with the bottom of your spine, just a few inches north of where his thumb teases you, and you let yourself relax.

that kiss is worth just as much as his praises.

“the lube is upstairs, puppy,” he sounds almost sad as he whispers those words against your skin, his thumb slipping away from your puckered hole until only a ghost of a sensation is left, “and as sad as it makes me, i can’t fuck you there without it. you’re just too tight, and i don’t want to hurt my toy, hm? not really…”

his words feel like a safety blanket with how soft they’re being spoken. you’re well aware of how condescending it’s supposed to be, his voice lilting in the same was it would when talking to a child, but something in you doesn’t care. you like it when he talks down to you like that.

“it’s okay though,” he continues as he presses two fingers up against your slickened pussy. they trail up and down your slit, going from your entrance to your clit, gathering your wetness on the tips. the sound is vulgar, squelching loudly as he plays with you. you're too far gone to feel any humiliation from it, reveling in the short-lived electricity that lights you up every time he bumps against your clit. he can’t help but chuckle as he watches your hips buck against nothing, “i still have this sensitive little thing to play with, don’t i?”

you nod feverishly against the floor, keening as he lets his digits play with your clit for a moment or two longer than he had before. the circles he rubs against it are slow, and don’t nearly have enough pressure to do anything, but that doesn’t phase seonghwa. in fact he seems to rather enjoy it as you pant against the wood, shifting your hips to try and get just a little more stimulation. he gives in for just a second, pushing his fingers up against your swollen bud just hard enough to fetch a moan from your lips.

but it's gone again within the blink of an eye, seonghwa purring cruelly at your misfortune.

“sorry, pup,” he says with no remorse as he trails his fingers back up to your glistening hole. he tests it with one finger, sliding it into you with little resistance. “tonight isn’t about you getting spoiled, though,” he retracts it until just the tip is buried inside of you. a second finger slips in beside it and he pushes them in until they’re buried to the hilt, “it’s about you learning your place,” he scissors them inside of you, relishing the way your walls push back against him, “you’ll cum if you’re lucky.”

he ignores the saddened whine that leaves you, instead turning his attention to where his fingers pump in and out of you. with how wet you are, he has no doubt that he’d be able to slip right into you if he really wanted. it’s what he’d done the previous night, barely pumping his fingers into you twice before burying himself inside of you and marking you up like a hungry animal. perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that the purple marks that cover your shoulders would’ve stopped you going on that date. perhaps he underestimated just how ‘full coverage’ your concealer was. perhaps he should’ve just put his foot down and told you exactly how he felt about the date. oh well, he tells himself as he bends his fingers to press against that sensitive spot inside of you, forcing a moan from your lips.

he won in the end.

[fictionismyreality3]

CAN YOU GIVE US MORE OF JASON STALKING?? I SWEAR TO U, IS REALLY HOTTTT AAAAH

I loved your writing btw

Omgomgomg hi babes!!!! You’re my first ask ever!!! You’ll forever have place in my heart 🥲 but really that is so sweet of you, and toTALLY STALKER JASON IS SO HOT HERE YOU GO

A Little bit of Sunshine

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: stalker!jason todd, innocent!reader

Warnings: stalking, mention of drugs

Notes: I’m actually dying at picturing getting stalked by Jay 😩 like that should not be hot but it is??? If people like this I might make it into a mini series or something 👀

He was going to stop the first night.

At least, that's what he told himself.

Since Jason had come back from the Pit, being alive was something of a nuisance. Whatever weird ass magic they used to bring him back to life had made it harder to control himself in every way. He went on a year-long violent rampage, much to Bruce’s disdain, that left Gotham in shambles.

Only now was he actually putting a good face behind the name of the Red Hood. It’s not like he wanted to hurt people, but when everything was so vivid, it was hard to listen to Bruce’s non-lethal policy. But as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted Bruce to trust him again.

So, when Dick was called out of Bludhaven for some other crisis, Jason volunteered to help with patrol.

It was the third day of what was supposed to be a week-long shift in Bludhaven, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sure he had broken the legs of a few robbers when they tried to run from him, but it was all in good fun.

In fact, Jason was dying for some fun. Bludhaven was somehow even darker and dingier than the rest of Gotham, and it was getting tiring only having drug dealers to play with. The rain was coming down, casting a foggy overcast to the darkening sky, and most of the sane residents had retreated to their homes. Everyone who had ever been to Bludhaven knew that nighttime was when the dangerous criminals liked to do their work.

Which is why Jason was a little astonished that a seemingly random girl was stupid enough to walk home in the dark.

Living in Bludhaven wasn't ideal, but the rent was cheap and that's all that mattered. You had been working at a donation center for the homeless for the last few months, wanting to help out the city in any way you could. It wasn't that you were trying to be a hero or something, you just didn't like seeing other people suffering. It also helped that volunteer work looked killer on a resume. The staff loved you, and quickly entrusted you with the keys, giving you the last shift of the night.

You usually walked home with one of your co-workers, a woman in her 60s named Rose. It wasn't the typical company for someone your age, but her never-ending stories were nice to zone out to after a long day of work. Rose was sick today, which meant you had to walk home alone. Looking out the window, you saw that it was already dark. Definitely not ideal. But, you had made the trip hundreds of times and knew all the shortcuts to get you home quicker.

Jason watched as the girl walked down the dimly-lit streets. He was going to just leave it, and let you learn your lesson the hard way, but then he took a second glance at you.

He thought the Pit bringing him back to life was the closest thing he'd ever get to seeing heaven. But now?

Now he knew he was dead wrong.

A soft face with pretty lips and pretty hair and pretty everything. Jason felt his heart beat inside his chest with a vigour that betrayed the dead man he thought he was. All of the lonely, unclear and dangerous thoughts in his head suddenly vanished. His breaths were heavy and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pretty little thing walking all alone. He felt like there was blood flowing in his veins again. He felt alive.

If you were walking alone at this time of night you were either innocent or stupid, and the innocence was practically rolling off you in waves. You were far too sweet for this place. His eyes scanned the logo of the bag you were carrying and his heart exploded and regrew in his chest all at once. The kind face you had made sense if you were generous enough to work at one of Bludhaven's seedy donation buildings. His mouth went dry at the idea of anything remotely distressing happening to you.

Fuck it.

He was just gonna make sure you got home safe. That's all it was.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Jason silently followed you as you walked home, watching from above like a twisted guardian angel. He was always on high alert, he was raised to be vigilant, but he found himself paying extra close attention to every single movement he saw out of the corner of his eye. Logic was telling him that if he was going through all this trouble to make sure a random girl was safe, he should just jump down from the roof and walk you home instead of watching like some-

Oh, that was cute.

Jason's gaze followed your hands as you pulled your keys from your bag. The fabric keychain they were attached to was dotted with tiny drawings of the sun. He hadn't even realized that you'd gotten home. Perching on a rooftop, he kept you in his vision while he quickly scanned the area where you lived. It wasn't the best, nothing in Bludhaven was, but at least it wasn't at the south tip of the city.

You had finally gotten home after a long day. Oddly, the walk didn't feel as scary as you expected. Sighing, you took out your keys and unlocked your front door, slipping inside your apartment. After making sure your door was locked, you kicked off your shoes and hung up your jacket, a yawn falling from your lips. You were definitely gonna call it an early night.

The soft clicking of your front door shutting brought Jason's attention back to the present. You obviously got home safe. He should get going. He should get going.

But he stayed rooted on the spot.

The rain fell around him, hitting the concrete rooftop he was frozen on. His helmet suddenly felt claustrophobic and he took it off gasping, the rain soaking his hair. The cold rush of despairing thoughts that he had grown used to flooded back into his brain. His heart grew still in his chest and he felt his smile disappear.

He had smiled?

He hadn't smiled since the pit. He hadn't smiled since he died. You retreated into your apartment and took all the sunshine with you. The sunshine that hadn't been able to reach his skin for years. With a sickening thought, Jason realized that he was about to make a very, very, very bad decision.

Who was he to deny himself happiness? Didn't he deserve to be happy after everything he had been through? He argued with himself as his gaze remained on your front door, trying to will himself to push away the wickedly possessive desire that he felt for you. Jason ran through all the possible outcomes that could come from.. whatever this was, but nothing held a match at the prospect of having you. He had to have you.

Fuck it.

Locking away the part of his mind which screamed at him to stop, he leapt from the rooftop, landing softly on the balls of his feet. Carefully, his head on a swivel for anyone walking by, he took out his phone. His finger hovered over the photo button, his mind telling him that if he did this, there was no going back. He snapped a photo of your apartment.

As he made his way back to the safehouse he was staying in, he could feel you being cemented in his mind. Every raindrop that hit his skin felt like it was washing away everything that he thought was important until only you remained. The image of your precious face became ingrained in his mind. By the time he got back to his safehouse, the only goal he had was to know as much about you as he possibly could.

He was already at his computer, his helmet tossed to the other side of the room. His clothes were still soaked from the rain, but he didn't care. This was more important. You were more important.

Using Bruce's tech, being careful not to leave a trace, he uploaded the photo he had taken of your apartment and began to run a search. Within less than 5 minutes he had everything he would need to keep you for himself. Your school records, social media posts, and more were at his fingertips. He took the liberty of adding himself to your bank account, hacking in so he could be aware of every transaction you made. Soon he would be the one making them for you.

Jason spent the night scrolling through your information. For once he was glad for Bruce's training, as his disciplined mind allowed him to commit everything about you to memory. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and he was vaguely aware that it was well past 3AM, but he was enraptured reading your search history.

How to change a lightbulb?

Cute.

As soon as he could get a copy of your key made you would never need to change a lightbulb again. Every so often he would come across a photo of you dressed up for some event; a christmas party, a graduation, whatever. When he saw those photos, every doubt that was trying to creep back into his mind was pushed away by his increasingly twisted desire for you.

Jason knew he had gone off the deep end, but if this is what drowning felt like he would gladly let you kill him all over again. When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep knowing you now belonged to him.

And you didn't even know it yet.

[brooooswriting]

Hello broko loco it's been a minute.

So this idea just came to mind.

How about a Mafia AU.

Jenna x Mafia leader FR

So how about Jenna getting kidnapped by R's rivals and that's when she actually finds out r is part of the Mafia. Her being taken away, then R finds out before the other bitches make demands because... connections. And she goes on a killing spree just to save her girl.

Then they talk about everything [tragic backstory intestifies (only if you feel like it)] and Jenna ends up falling asleep in R's arms due to being exhausted.

Feel free to delete this if it makes you uncomfortable. Take your time ik you have situation pt 6 on the way that's why I'm insisting on this.

And I hope you have a great day<3

Should have told ya

Jenna Ortega x Mafia leader reader

A/n: I don’t know shit about the mafia and I couldn’t really find anything online that made sense to me😂

There was a part of your life that you didn’t like to talk about and you didn’t want people to know about. Sure that sounds drastic but everybody who knew was in danger too, so you liked to keep to yourself. You actually did in general, until you met a certain actress. You ran into each other when one of your newbies fucked up, you and your crew were in a hurry and one of them ran into her. In General no problem but you didn’t like the fact that he didn’t say sorry, sure you were a mafia boss but that doesn’t mean that you guys can’t be polite. Especially after you saw how pretty the girl was, you let the others walk past you as you hurried back to say that you’re sorry. And somehow a relationship built from that.

You still never told her that you were part of the mafia, let alone that you were the boss. Your mafia was kinda different thou, you didn’t like killing people for nothing and you didn’t like the rivalry between the different mafias, you believe that you did more of a good thing. You still killed people and did some dirty stuff but a lot of them were people who abused kids, rapists or stuff like that. Because let’s be honest, the law system was shit and someone had to do something.

But there were people who had problems with that, especially another mafia group in California. You liked to believe that this was the only useless blood flowing you were the cause off.

“Baby?” You called as you walked into your house, Jenna was waiting for you after a long day of work, you couldn’t wait to see her. “Jen?” You called out again, your voice louder this time, but there was still no answer. You called out again and again, dialing her number walking trough every room, she was nowhere to find, you even started calling her co stars but nobody knew where she was. You couldn’t help but panic as you called in some of your members, hoping that they would help you find her. It only got worse when you found a envelope in front of your house with headphones in it.

After around 20 minutes you sent 12 troops of 3 out to look for her all around the city, you and four others tried to track her. There was no luck in tracking her phone, it was either turned off or destroyed, but you did have luck when you hacked into some cameras of your rivals where you found Jenna sitting in an abandoned building, tears streaming down her face. Your blood boiled with anger, you immediately called everybody to the location, this was gonna be their end.

After around 10 black cars pulled up to the house you entered. They were checking each room, you darting for the living room where you thought she’d be but there was only one person, Tom, second man of your rivals. “Where is she?” You growled at him, having problems keeping your anger at bay. “You really thought we were gonna keep her here? You’ll give us what we want and then maybe, just maybe, you’ll see her again” that was enough for you, you nodded at Mike, your second man, who grabbed Tom to hold him still.

After you’ve punched him around 20 times his face was bloody, his nose and jaw broken but he still wouldn’t talk and it fueled your anger. “You know what, I’m over this and I’m over playing nice. Torture him until he talks and if he doesn’t? Kill him.” Suddenly the guy was panicked, you weren’t known for torture and you seemed so serious that it scared the shit out of him.

Not even 15 minutes after you’ve left you heard him call you causing you to grin. “Now you wanna talk?” You asked as you entered with a smile, “yes, she’s at the warehouse down south” he was heaving, tears streaming down his face while yours held a smile. “Good, keep him here, if she’s not there, kill him” after you hit him one more time you left with 10 more people.

“Alright, this time no talking. Me and Mike are going in and if there’s a problem I’m calling back up alright? Somebody gets in your way? Kill them, nobody takes my girl” everybody was surprised by your behavior, you normally were pretty chill and laid back and you never got close to anyone really. “We are going in”

You kicked in the door, making your presence known as two people already came running towards you. Each of you fought one to the ground, you slicing the throat of yours. It went like that until you had around 10 people down, most of them dead. After you killed the last one you finally saw her, they had stuffed her mouth, tied her to a chair and ripped her shirt to the point where you could see her bra. Their leader, Paul, a complete ass, stood in front of her saying something that made her whimper which made you growl.

You nodded at Mike before running off and tackling their boss to the ground, a surprised sound coming from the girl next to you. While you repeatedly hit the man under you, Mike cut the ropes to free the smaller girl who cowered next to him, the guy she knew as your best friend. “Never. Touch. My. Girl. Again” you stressed each word with a harsh hit to his face before finally standing up to look at Jenna.

“Are you alright baby?” Your voice immediately went soft when you talked to her, your hands reaching for her waist while hers landed on your shoulder. “You’re part of the fucking mafia” she gasped slightly pushing you away from her, “you’re not just a part, you’re the fucking boss” you studied her face as your thumb rubbed circles over her waist. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I thought it was saver when you didn’t know, I’m so sorry baby” you told her but she only shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here” she grumbled and walked away causing you to sigh. “Mike, go with her. She shouldn’t be alone right now” you told him as you knew that she didn’t wanna see you right now.

Mike jogged towards her until he was next to her, “you’re a part of this too huh?” She said looking straight toward. “Yes, but you shouldn’t be too harsh on y/n. She was scared of you getting hurt and when you disappeared today? It was the first time in 19 years that I saw her really scared, she would have blown up the whole damn world to find you” he explained as they walked up to your car. Jenna’s heart sank when she heard that, it did kind of make sense that you didn’t tell her but today really was a shock.

“I’m gonna let somebody drive you home… to your home and there’s gonna be someone stationed in front of your house the whole time” you told her as you opened the door for her as she nodded. “Goodbye Jenna, im sorry” you mumbled again before closing the door. Her heart sank again when you closed the door, the whole thing sounded like a forever goodbye. She hoped that you’d come to her house in a different car, but you didn’t.

She waited a whole hour before calling you. “Jenna? Are you alright?” You quickly rushed out the words as soon as you picked up the phone, “no! You’re gonna get your ass here and we are gonna talk about everything” you sighed, “Jen-“ “Stop it! Get your ass here right now” this time you didn’t protest, you said your goodbye and walked to your car.

When she opened the door for you, your heart sped up. She was wearing one of your hoodies that went to her knees which made her look adorable. “Come in” she said as she pulled you to the couch. “Talk” you chuckled at her bossiness but started nonetheless.

“My parents were shot in a mafia fight when I was 8, I was alone in their restaurant sitting next to their dead bodies when an old man came inside. Just minutes before I saw him trying to protect my parents, he introduced himself as Frank, saying that he knew my parents and that he was very sorry for their death and that he’d like me to come with him. He’d take care of me and he did, he did more than I could have asked for. Years later, I believe I was 14 I learned that he was the reason my family died, he was the reason they were involved in it. But I couldn’t be mad at him, my father decided to join on his own, he was a grown man after all and he tried to do good.” you took a deep breath, talking about your parents was still hard for you. Jenna noticed and slightly curled herself into you, the heat and the familiar feeling that radiated off of her comforted you. “Frank retired 5 years ago, making me the boss as I was like his daughter, I learned everything about it since he took care of me. We always tried to make this a better place which some of the other mafia groups didn’t like, which is what brings us to today. I never told you because I thought I could keep you safe that way, my dad told my mom and she died because of it. You’re my first relationship since I’ve been 15, I was always too afraid of putting them in danger. Until you came, you had this hold on me that I just couldn’t break your heart” you finished as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh honey” Jenna sat herself on your lap with her arms around your neck pressing your face into her chest as you silently cried. “I get that you didn’t tell me but next time, just be honest so I know what I’d get myself into. I still would be here you know?” She pulled your head up to kiss you, you immediately kissed her back as your arms tightened around her waist to pull her closer. “I love you Jenna” you whispered against her lips, making her smile, “I love you too my little mafia boss” both of you giggled before she settled into your arms in a more comfortable position. You just held her for a moment, happy that she was still with you and that she was fine. “I wanna meet Frank this week” she mumbled sleepily and not even 2 minutes later she was asleep on top of you causing your heart to melt.

You carefully moved until you were laying on the couch with her laying on top of you, you kissed her head before closing your eyes too.

She is going to make a great mafia boss

[kupidachillea]

KUPID!! GIVE US MORE TELEMACHUS HCS!! AND MY LIFE!!! IS YOURS!!!!!

Hear me out, Tele boy x reader who stands up for him n stuff ⁉️ she's definitely the fighter of the 2. Probably has had to defend him against antinous before. Maybe?👁

Telemachus x Fem!Reader Hcs (Romantic)

Author note: Thank you for the request! I tried to do this justice. I’m still getting use to writing and all this but I hope you and everyone else enjoys!

Trigger warning ⚠️ : Mentions of fighting (to the best of my ability to write), violence, Antinöus being a jerk, slight mention of blood and broken limbs, but fluff is definitely apart of this.

🕯️- It’s no lie that you love Telemachus, everyone can tell. You both are courting after all. There is nothing that can separate you both. You’re just too tightly knit together.

🏵️- Telemachus loves you dearly too..he sees a future with you. To him, you’re a blessing from the gods..and maybe you are. You’re always standing up for him, taking care of him as if you were the one ‘wearing the pants’ in the relationship.

🕯️- The prince obviously didn’t mind this; and most didn’t bat an eye(not too much anyway).

🏵️-The only person that seemed to give a damn and have problem was Antinöus…He’d tease and taunt Telemachus about how he’s letting a woman do a “Man’s job”. He was always saying how shameful it was for you to be defending the prince and how he could cut you down to size if he so choose.

🕯️- Telemachus didn’t appreciate the other man’s words at all. Often telling him to watch his tone or else. This would make the other male grin and get up in his face- going as far as to grab the prince by his chiton.

🏵️- You happened to walk in on one such encounter and you felt your blood boil at the sight of Antinöus grabbing Telemachus like that.

🕯️-You watched for a few seconds as the prince and Antinöus got into a little fight, clawing at each other and landing blows. Until you finally decided to step in, already having enough of the other man picking on your partner.

🏵️- You didn’t say anything as you grasped the nearest object you hands could get on- in this case a bronze tray, and you took it and hit Antinöus over the head with it.

🕯️- This caused both men to freeze up- but not for long as Antinöus stood to his feet and glared down at you. Clenching his hands into fists as he threatened to sock you right there..and he would’ve if it weren’t for the fact you beat him to it.

🏵️- He cursed loudly and Telemachus’ eyes widened as you shook your hand of the pain. “You disrespectful wench!! I’ll kill you!” He hissed as he felt his nose, blood flowing from it while you chuckled, though your own fist was in pain.

🕯️- Before things got worse- Telemachus had rushed over and made sure you were at a safe distance away from the bleeding man, his eyes filled with anger as he shoved Antinöus. “I don’t ever want to hear you speak about my partner that way again, do you understand?” He didn’t wait fir an answer before having his escorted out of the room..Antinöus giving you both a lingering glare as he cursed under his breath once more.

🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️

🏵️- That afternoon, Telemachus sat with you in his room tending to your hand that clearly got a bit fractured from when you punched Antinöus…

🕯️- He sighed while you sat there with a smile. “I could’ve handled that, y’know?” You told him and he gave you a slight look of doubt..he didn’t doubt your ability it was more so doubting the overall outcome..

🏵️- “I know you could..but still. I had that under control, and now you’re hurt..” He spoke softly, gesturing to your hand that was slight bruised and looking a bit fragile. Your gaze softened and you would rest your head against his shoulder. “It was worth it..for you at least.” You replied, which caused a small smile to form on the prince’s lips.

🕯️- He rolled his eyes before resting his head on yours in response to your previous action of affection. “You always say that…” He mutters and you only nuzzled him in response. Eventually , Telemachus finished up bandaging your injured hand and planted a gentle kiss on your lips.

🏵️- Which you happily returned before pulling away. A bright smile on your face as you both went back to cuddling.

🕯️- To you, Telemachus was worth all the trouble..even if he wasn’t too fond of you getting hurt..you didn’t mind at all.

Author note: Eeee sorry this one took awhile, but I hope you like it. I’m posting this after my birthday lol even though I was working on and off on it during the week. Anyway! I hope you all enjoyed this. Feel free to leave a comment and reblog or even leave a request if your own. I’ll try to get around to them all.

[lastleggysee]

Corruption - Sage Lesath

The Last Legacy x reader brain rot continues!

Here's a blip about Sage and MC dealing with how he deals with the bloodlust or whatever.

TW: Mentions of blood, cursing/arguments - nothing graphic imo but minors DNI.

Word count: 2,770

Since dropping into Astrea, you’ve had your pick of people, places, and things to be afraid of. This world was just-similar enough to your own for you to unthinkingly sink into old habits to create a sense of normality - only for it to become shattered again at the mention of spirits, magic, and whatever mysteries of the week made themselves known. 

It’s also easy to forget that your companions, the first people you have come to know in this new world, are veterans of a terrible, bloody war. Visions of the warm smiles you’ve grown used to can barely exist in the same space in your mind as tales of the tragedies they all lived through. Even in a world without the existence of psychology and mental health awareness, the impacts of such traumas are notable. It didn’t take an expert to notice the ways Anisa’s hand flexes over her sword at shadows in the room, Felix’s constant vigilance, and Sage’s…outbursts. 

You call it a trauma response. Felix calls it corruption. Sage calls him a “know-it-all prick”, but the facts of the situation remain. Whatever magic Sage tapped into at one point has exacted a costly toll on him - body and mind. 

Sage does his best to conceal the corruption from you. To his credit, for a long while you just assumed he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed (or the gutter, or wherever it was he spent the night); that he’d allowed himself to get too hungry, or some other unspoken ailment that caused anger to flow from him so freely. 

At first, you thought maybe his eyes were just particularly bloodshot, or that there was a trick of the light in the room that made his eyes glow crimson like that. This did not explain the way the energy, the very air, around him changed so suddenly when the corruption hit. 

In the aftermath of a harrowing fight - you remember less who it was with than the concern you felt for Sage as a sword pierced him through from stomach to back - your curiosity got the best of you. 

He denied your observations, of course. He suggested it was the stress, lingering shock and adrenaline from the fight that clouded your memory. He’s fine, he’s always fine. And if you’re really that worried about him, he’d welcome a more thorough examination from you anytime. 

The first time is always happenstance. 

Felix and Anisa cautioned you to keep an eye on Sage, though both seemed hesitant to name just what you were keeping an eye on him for. You notice they have the appearance of walking and talking on unseen eggshells around him, but the group seems to get along together well enough. And besides, there are bigger fish to fry between Elowen, Rime, and whatever else (whoever else) is out there. It’s none of your business anyways. 

As fights with enemies become more frequent, so do fights amongst your friends. He “deserted” them all those years ago, you remind yourself. Seeds of distrust, once sprouted, are not so easily weeded. Never mind how accusatory Felix’s statements about loss of control, bloodlust, corruption. 

There’s only so much that can be brushed under the rug of the “heat of the moment”. Sage’s threats, despite being directed towards enemies, buzz in your ears. His voice is cold and sharp as any metal in his sword. When his eyes flash that shade of red, how much of the man you’ve come to know is still behind them? 

Is he still the man you’ve come to know, now that these moments of corruption are becoming more frequent?

*           *          *

The second time is a coincidence. 

“It’s not like you’d get it if I told you.” Sage grumbles, doing his best to brush you off. 

“So it is something, then,” you reply, past the point of pretense and politeness. “Like a tapeworm sort of something, or something different?”

Sage downs the pitcher the two of you are - were - sharing, before returning your steady gaze. His eyes are glassy, dark circles forming underneath them like an oil spill. He chews on nothing in particular, before responding to you in a tone so hushed you have to strain to make sure you weren’t just imagining things. 

“This thing in me,” his lip trembles ever so slightly. “…when it takes over, it lights me up.”

“It lights you up.”

“That’s why I don’t say anything,” Whatever moment of vulnerability he’d opened the door to is slammed shut with the scoff of his laugh. “Forget it.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to understand.” you struggle to maintain composure. 

“Oh, believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t be anything like this.” 

He abruptly stands, ordering another pitcher of ale (gods only know how he managed to pay for it) and putting fish everywhere to shame with how fast he drinks it. You’ve almost decided to drop the topic entirely when the tremble in his voice continues. 

“Once it starts, that feeling is all that’s there,” he begins. “Whatever it is, it lights me up. I feel it everywhere.”

“Sage, that’s adrenaline. It’s a normal response.” Something inside you, small and frantic, but something nevertheless, cries out for you to comfort him. You search his face, half-shadowed from behind the veil of his hair. 

“You don’t get it. I can barely do anything to work against it,” his golden eyes meet yours, gaze so intense you almost wish he hadn’t. “It’s a bush fire. The second I slip up it’s waiting to burn me from the inside out.”

For the rest of the night, he only answers to the bartender. 

*           *          *

The third time is a pattern. 

“Could you at least pretend to give half a shit about yourself?” 

You’re yelling at the back of Sage’s shoulders. The crash of his boots against the ground echoes, amplified by his cold silence. You’d do as good to admonish a brick wall, but your ire demands an audience. 

Sage hadn’t ever been the type of man to plan, but his actions as of late have become nothing short of reckless. Between Balsam’s death, Rime’s attacks, and the thinning patience of all members of the Starsworn, hardly a day passed without the telltale flash of red in Sage’s eyes. 

It matched perfectly now with the fresh splatters of red, dark against his cloak. 

“Sage! I’m talking to you!” This would be comical if you weren’t on the edge of tears from sheer frustration. 

“Sounds more like talking to yourself to me.” he all but snarls.

Felix planned a stakeout. The night ended in ambush; soldiers of the Lord of Shadows would’ve overwhelmed your small group if it hadn’t been for Sage. At first, you attempted to dissuade him from giving in to whatever it was that allowed him to move like that - almighty, commanding, and all but feral. After one of their shadowy weapons landed a blow to Anisa’s forearm, and another nearly trampled you, any protest you could’ve uttered would’ve fallen on deaf ears. 

Your pride is bitter as you swallow it. “You’re hurt. Wait a second and let me-”

“I don’t need your damned magic,” he exclaims. His voice is hoarse, rough. You barely make out something under his breath about the gash on the back of his neck will stitch itself back together, along with a few words that sound like curses in another language. 

“You’re still bleeding,” you do your best to match his pace, but the weariness in your muscles is taking over. “There’s no reason for you to track that shit all over Astrea.”

His spit is tinged with pink before it settles in the dirt somewhere to his left. Sage isn’t sure if the taste of blood in his mouth is his own, or if the flavor of someone else’s remains. His ears twitch of their own volition, privy to more sounds than Sage should be able to hear normally. Normally. Your pace is gradually slowing, he can make out from your arrhythmic footsteps and the sharp draw of your breath. A bird drills into a tree somewhere. Gnats frantically gather and then scatter around the sites of his wounds. If he tried, and if it wouldn’t surely be the thing to drive him to madness. Sage can feel the individual atoms around him vibrating one by one - or is that just his own hands trembling? There’s just too much going on right now. A growl escapes his lips before he’s able to contain it.

“...and what are you even hoping to do anyways, covered in blood like that? Scare the shit out of the first bartender you come across -” 

“I’m trying to get the fuck away,” he forces each word out through clenched teeth, as though they scald his tongue on their way out. 

“Away.” Your exasperation breaks way to full indignation. “You want to get away? Great. I’ll even help your sorry ass get away,” a string of colorful curses punctuates your sentence as you trip and nearly fall face-first onto the ground before righting yourself. Sage continued forward at the same pace, placing you a few additional yards behind him. “Just let me heal you first.”

Sage laughs, a sound as cold as the sound of his blade striking another only too soon ago. You falter.

“There’s nothing any of you can do to help me.” he spits again. “It’s too late.”

Somehow his words enter your ears and descend directly to your feet, holding you in place. Your mouth is dry. Sage continues to push through foliage to get further away. Your eye twitches involuntarily as the magic you’d called to your hands with the goal of healing Sage abruptly changes intention. 

“Oh, get over yourself!” you yell, half-certain your gestures have been in vain and that he’d end up wandering off for gods knows how long before turning back up at Fathom, bloody as the last day you saw him. If he comes back at all, that is. 

Your hypothesis is disproven when he stops in his tracks. However, you’re too incensed to stop now. A string of pejoratives is hurled in his direction, punctuated with gestures you know he is unable to see but that have to be shown regardless.

Sage counts his breaths as you curse him. He’s almost gained enough composure to begin piecing together a plan - where was he hoping to go, anyway? - when one of your comments hooks itself under his skin. 

“..and while you’re at it, stop acting like you’re some kind of fucking monster!”

“Scuse me?!” he belts, turning to face you. His skin feels hot, the bloodstained clothes he’s wearing too-tight. “I’ll call it whatever the fuck I want!”

“Of course you will!” frustrated stomps meeting the ground punctuate your words as you move closer to Sage. The flush of color in your cheeks and tears threatening to spill from your eyes almost break his resolve, but the iron of your words sharpen his own indignation. 

“You say it’s what you want, but you really just call it whatever makes it easiest for you. It still doesn’t make it true.”

Every cell in Sage’s body screams in agony - how could you of all people have misunderstood him so deeply? 

“Easy? You think being like this is easy!?” Harsh words fall from Sage’s serrated-knife tongue. Some part of him is hoping to provoke you, to finally have you as angry with him as he deserves, to burn this bridge once and for all before he convinces himself he’s worthy to cross it again. “Before you even wake up in the morning I’m already drowning in this shit. Corruption, whatever you want to call it. And then every godsdamned second afterwards, I’m holding every scrap of myself together with a thread -”

“I didn’t say it’s easy - nothing is fucking easy.” You take another deep breath, hoping to steady yourself, but the words flow from you nonetheless. “But you call yourself a monster, and a freak, and damaged, and that makes it easier for you. It makes you FEEL better. You’re the big bad monster and everyone should hate you - just like you hate yourself. You get to be right all along. And then you get to be the hero for taking yourself away from us.”

“You don’t know anything about how I feel.” Sage’s accusation is forbidding, the white hot-ire having passed its boiling point and settling to a cold contempt. 

“Well shit, there’s something we can agree on! But it’s because you never say anything about how you feel. Never show anything either  until it’s all but fucking BLEEDING out of you.”

“Haven’t you noticed? That’s how I am. And this is WHAT I am.” Sage gestures to the blood rapidly drying on his gauntlet. “If you want to get pissed about it, that's your problem, not mine.”

“We’re fucking teammates, Sage. We’re each other’s godsdamned problems -”

“Don’t start that shit. Half of the times you’ve almost gotten killed have been because of ME. I gave you every godsdamned opportunity to get away from me.”

“Oh poor you!” You let out a sardonic half-laugh, half-sob. “It’s so hard, right? It’s so hard for YOU to have someone, anyone, who gives half a shit about you. If you wanted me gone so bad, why didn’t YOU just leave?”

He’s silent. Sage has left, deserted, his friends before. His hands shake as flashes of their faces, their funeral pyres, the plots of land once their homes smoldering in the dirt - his fault. Sage is not naive enough to believe he could have stopped the Lord of Shadows or his minions from razing his comrades to the ground - but a part of him wishes he’d gone down with them. If he’d gotten what he deserved, it’d be his ashes scattered underneath Porriman’s boots. 

You get no reply, and make no reply yourself. You sit, your back pressing heavily into the bark of the tree you rest upon. If not for Sage’s tail flicking back and forth he could’ve been a statue, muscles clenched tight and unmoving gaze fixed on a point far behind you. 

He sighs, sending a puff of condensation out like a rain cloud. Although still, Sage’s mind was moving a thousand miles a minute. This was nothing in comparison to his heart. 

“Sorry.” Sage says, his voice raw and raspy from your argument. He moves closer to you, slow steps heavy with compunction. “I’m not saying you’re right. I’m just sorry.”  

“I’m not asking for you to be sorry, and I’m not asking to be right. I’m asking to be your teammate. How can you expect to trust me, or anyone for that matter, if you can’t even trust yourself?” You don’t look in his direction when you reply, instead gazing above at the sky and blinking back tears of frustration.

This is the reason you’ve been alone. This is the price you pay for your power - loss of control, and loss of everyone around you. This, and your words, buzz in Sage’s ears. 

You reach up, taking his hand in yours, and pull it until you get his attention. “You can trust me, you know.”

The second your skin meets his, the buzzing stops. Sage looks down at you, barely able to make out your words. The night sky reflects in your pupils, dazzling back at him. His protests die in his throat. 

“And none of that ‘about as far as you can throw me’ shit.” you chide. His palm is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his skin feels fevered. “I know nothing is easy, but I’m willing to work on it if you are. Together - like a team does.”

Together. The word felt foreign in Sage’s mind; he couldn’t imagine hearing the syllables form to make the word come out of his mouth. He can remember brief moments from his past where he felt at peace with the word, he can remember the grief from times when together was a promise fate couldn’t keep. Tulsi. Balsam. Lucan. Felix and Anisa, all those years ago. 

While Sage’s mind is unsure of how to answer your proposal, his body responds with the clenching of his hand around your own. His fingers entwine with yours, squeezing lightly. Together. 

“Don’t get all mushy on me,” Sage mumbles. “Now, is it too late for you to take a look at that cut on my back?”

Sage doesn’t know much about magic, but he believes without a doubt the smile on your face did the healing job better than a spell could.

[wornoutmouse]

I don’t know how to ask you this bestie 😩… But if you write incest do you mind doing one where all might’s daughter has a crush on Endeavor? And they both smash her… Feel free to make it stepcest if that’s more comfortable 🥲

DON’T BESTIE ME YOU FREAK!!!!-

Anyways, congrats on being my FIRST controversial ask. That being said, it took me a while to figure out whether or not I would write this one 🤔. Of course, this will be one of the ones I won’t be able to post on Wattpad lmao, but I’ll give it a go!

If you didn’t already read the request, I will give you the necessary warnings again.

tw: incest….. never thought this day would come, dp

Author's annual moral PSA: I would hope I wouldn't have to tell yall I don't condone this irl. This is both illegal in many states, and in all ways an abuse of power and trust. Not to mention no one should look at their family members in this way and if it has happened to you don't be ashamed of it as it is not your fault but seek help because it is dangerous in the long run. This is for pure fantasy purposes

You are not underage in this fic. I never do underaged work.

There is way too much plot in this

Your cheeks were stretched wide enough to rival your fathers’ as you ran home. Your feet bounce and your pull at your braids nervously as you look out the window of the train, the excitement you felt made you restless to get home. Your neighbors watched you as you ran by, dents caused by your shoes hitting the pavement as your quirk flowed through your pumping blood. “Dad!”

You slam your front door open and scramble through the labyrinth of your rich home. Tossing open your father’s office door unaware of how your outburst startles All Might. “Y-Yes what is it?” Papers flutter all around as you carelessly glide through Toshinori’s neatly stacked papers. You slam the slightly crumpled papers onto his desk, ignoring how the sheer strength of your hand nearly causes his cold cup of coffee to fall. “Remember how 3rd years get the chance to have the first pick in finding the company they’ll sidekick for?!”

All Might watches you with fondness in his eyes as he cleans his glasses off. He was now far in his years, a healthy 82. His hair was now less of a golden yellow and more of beige as it silvered slowly. He was still his normal towering height, retained much of his muscles, and could periodically assume his big form now that he finally had the time to rest and heal properly. “You mean the program that you talked about every day because it was free.”

You roll your eyes, “Free for me, not for you. Anyways look, look, look!” You hold the paper in his face and he takes it from you, “I see you were accepted into your first choice at-” You snatch the paper from him and hop around excitedly, “-At Endevā Jimusho And that’s not even the best part!” All Might's contempt face drops, “All sidekicks get to stay in a guest house in close quarters with Endeavor himself!!"

Joy no longer existed in Toshinori's emotional library. "Absolutely not." Your face falls and your rant halts completely. "What?" Yagi puts his glasses on and shuffles through his papers stiffly, "I do not agree on Endeavors training methods." You raise an eyebrow, "Is this coming from the man that punched Pro-Hero Dynamite and Deku into buildings during an emergency villain drill? In front of everyone?"

Yagi hides his face behind a stapled packet, "I was giving them a taste of reality, a villain does not care for a hero's well-being." You sit down on his desk, legs crossed before curling your finger over his paper, your eyes miss how AllMight briefly glances down, “Yes, but isn’t it a job as a hero to protect people, even the students they train?” Yagi craned his neck until it makes a satisfying crack, a smirk adorning his lips. “I suppose you are right.”

He thinks for a moment before silently shuffling his papers before returning his gaze to your hopeful face, “Why should I assist you with your obvious little crush on my coworker?” You clearly stiffen “Well if it will make you happy-” You don’t allow him to finish before your arms around his shoulders squeezing his neck with most of your strength.

AllMight watches you leave his room slightly disheartened, reaching into his desk drawer he pulls out his phone and dials. “What do you want?” AllMight leans back in his chair pulling at his pants to loosen the tension in his groin, “A proposition.”

The next day Yagi is driving you to your new home for the next 6 months. Your eyes glaze over with futuristic thoughts on how your stay would be. “Everything is so shiny!” Yagi shrugs as he pulls into the parking lot. Enji was always minimalistic when it came to modern designs.” Your head snaps to Toshinori’s side of the car, “His name is Enji!?” Your question is laughed off as Toshinori shuts the car off.

Although your amazement is captured solely by the prospect of working with a pro-hero, the fact that your father is a pro-hero does not go unnoticed by the people around you. “Is that AllMight!” “Should I ask for his picture?!” Even with Yagi’s shadow enveloping your body your attention hones in on the automatic glass doors in front of you.

Inside there is a crowd of students experiencing orientation and getting assigned their respective dorm and possible roommate. You take your first steps in their direction before your arm is pulled and Yagi dawns a playful grin as he presses his finger to his lips. You follow him, eyebrows furrowed “You aren’t trying to change my mind are you?” You don’t get an answer as you are dragged along.

Stairs after stair you follow your father until you come to the very top, legs throbbing but interest peaked. Yagi opens two double doors as easily as breathing and your eyes go wide as the broad shoulders of a familiar hero come into view. “You’re finally here, took you long enough.” Your heart beats in your chest, auburn hair, broad shoulders, and a stoic face that you’d only seen on television, now present in front of you. Yagi shuts the door causing you to jump, “Oh um hi!” A large hand touches your shoulder making you jump” Calm down Y/n!” A cheerful exclamation rings out from above you as Yagi transforms into his larger form.

Heavy footsteps make the room shake wherever the two men walk around the room, “I heard you wanted to meet with me.” Your demeanor goes from uneasy to panicked giggling, “O-Oh really, who told you that!’ AllMight chuckles before patting your head, why don’t you ask him all the silly questions you want, I have to use the restroom.

Endeavor leans against his desk, arms crossed allowing his muscles to bulge through his white button-up shirt. “Yagi tells me a lot of good things about you.” Endeavor stands straighter, a ballpoint pen in hand before he gestures for you to take a seat. You settle in the seat glancing towards the door before looking up at Endeavor who settles on his desk. “What’s the matter, you seem nervous?” The deepness of his tone sends a shiver down your spine. Shifting your legs closer together you clear your throat, “I’m just not used to meeting my childhood hero in person.” Endeavor laughs in a way that sounds more like a bellow, “When you say it like that I feel old!”

Your face hadn’t stopped burning since you entered the room but the joke forced a chuckle through your lips allowing you to relax just a little bit. Calculating eyes narrow, making you feel even smaller than you already did in the hero’s presence. “Now, come on. I’m sure you have something you’d always wanted to do if you met your hero.” Endeavor’s happy-go-lucky attitude catches you off guard as it juxtaposes the hardened persona he had cultivated over the years. “Well, I suppose a picture would be a start if you don’t mind?”

Seconds later you somehow find yourself in Endeavor's lap as he holds the camera up for a picture. His body is unpainted hot but you assume that was simply just a side effect of his quirk. “Um, are you sure you’re okay with this?” Endeavor hums in acceptance. A heavy arm loops around your waist pulling you closer, close enough to become aware of a problem pressed gently against your ass. “Oh!” Endeavor’s fingers slipped pressing the capture button, “What’s wrong did I do it wrong?” You shake your head becoming embarrassed for the both of you, “Nothing!” Enji’s voice lowers into a mumble that reverberated against the back of your neck, “Good.”

Enji straightens his arm once more to retake the picture and you awkwardly smile into the camera, grin becoming strained when he had yet to snap the photo. You shuffle the slightest bit to get a more comfortable position and a guttural groan is released from Enji’s lips. "Are you alright, Endeavor?" Your question is ignored and your phone is put down on the table. Large hands contrasting unbridled power is your stomach delicately as though you were made of porcelain. "Are you sure there is nothing else you'd like to do with your hero?"

Endeavors face nudges away your braids allowing him to press his heated mouth against your skin. "Nothing that would help you get to know them better?" You don't get to respond, your body is hoisted around to face Endeavor. Why nervousness clearly painting itself on your features before being overcome with confused pleasure as Endeavor pressed his lips against your own.

You moan against his lips, hips grinding against each other, the thought of where you are slipped past your mind and to your pussy. Endeavors hands down your body, pinching and pulling before sighing with his calloused fingernails. You couldn't believe this was happening, you feel your pants being pulled off. Just yesterday you believed that you would only be able to meet your hero in passing. Your bra is on the floor and your pussy weeps against his slacks.

The motions are fast-paced and you feel his thumb pressing against your clit. “Yes!” Endeavor kisses your lips, his stubble scratching your cheeks slightly as his tongue explores your mouth. Confidence floods your body as you hop off of Endeavor's lap and quickly undo the buttons of his slacks, he watches you out of breath in the best way.

Thick in your hands, the veins twitch to the tune of his blood. The clear stickiness of pre-cum coats the underside and you use it to stroke his length. "Please fuck me Endeavor!" You look up at him, face contorted with desperate thoughts as you angle your body towards his cock, the tip of it rubbing against your folds. You were wet, so wet making the fuchsia tip of his cock feel more engorged.

"Don't regret this. "You’re pulled back into his lap with ease, pussy trembling from the display of strength. With Endeavor holding your weight and your hand positioning his length below you, the slide down was easy as it could be. Your legs wrap around his waist as you adjust to him. “We have to be quick.” Endeavor rolls your hips when your breathing becomes even again, “We have all the time in the world.” You smirk trailing your finger up Enji’s chest, “What, you have a thing for getting caught?”

Your cheeks are spread apart by Endeavor’s fingers as he hooks one into the small slit left remaining in your pussy. “Something like that.” From behind you the sound of the door shutting makes your neck quickly craned around to look back. Standing with his arms behind his back and an unreadable expression stood Yagi, “Am I missing the party?” Ashamed excuses leave your mouth, tearful and panicked you squeal when Endeavor raises your hips before sliding you down his cock. “No, you are just in time.”

Yagi slowly removes the suit he wore, shrugging off his suit jacket as the sound of your muffled whimpers filter through his ears. You hide your face, curling into Endeavor’s form but a hand stops you, gripping your face, “Don’t be shy, it was his idea after all.” AllMight chuckled, “Yeah, it took a lot of convincing on my part.”Long fingers wrapped around the base of your skull where your braids connect before yanking your head back.

Toshinori looked down at you, face stoic and mockingly disappointed, "I thought it would take a lot more convincing but look at you. " Yagi dragged the back of his hand around your jaw and down your chest ripping the fabric with ease. Your tits bounced on every thrust that Endeavor continued to make, wordless moans and drool leaving your moan as your pussy clenched around the cock inside you.

"Such a little whore for him aren't you?" You shake your head in protest before your eyes widen as chapped but soft lips are placed over yours. He was kissing you, your brain short circuits as his tongue forces its way past your lips. It's wrong, you know that. Hell, this whole situation is wrong. You should be downstairs with the others doing orientation, not upstairs riding the cock of a pro-hero and french kissing the other. You knew it was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

Endeavor groans at how sloppy you were becoming. The sound of your pussy squelching as cream gathered around Endeavor's cock before being pushed back inside of you. "So both of you are twisted in the head." A large thumb presses down on your clit making your pussy spasm as you cum from the heightened stimulation. Endeavor keeps thrusting, his libido unmatched and energy pent up.

Yagi reaches in between the two of you pressing his palm against your pussy as his fingertips graze Enji’s dick on every upstroke. “Are you getting wetter sweetheart? He feels so good doesn't he?" Your mouth is agape and your weak hands Endeavor's shoulder is the only thing keeping you upright when your eyes roll back. "Y-Yes daddy!" Yagi wheezes before he's fiddling with his suit pants and pulling you back by your hair.

It was a strange display of balance on your end. Endeavor’s arms hold your legs tightly in order to keep you on his lap and on his cock meanwhile you are as your father slaps his hardened cock against your cheek, splashing his precum onto your chin. "I got you this far dear, why don't you return the favor?"

Whether it was diluted senses or your subconscious coming forward, you open your mouth for him, moaning as he invades every crevice of your jaw. Your throat constricts and you retch around the warm heat. Yagi is unapologetic and downright brutal as he pulls back before bringing his hips forward again.

The two men's moans empty into the office room and your garbled cooking is ignored as they both have their fill, leaving you to wonder if this really was for you. Numbness invaded your senses as you come again on Endeavor's cock with him not that far behind as he blows his load into your pussy. "It's been a while I will admit." Endeavor slaps your pussy once, then twice just to feel you squeeze down on him every time your hips jerked.

Tears and drool running down your face the faster your father fucks your throat and you knew you'd be sore the next day. "My turn." All Might pulls out and walks away not even showing you a glance as you choke from the lack of oxygen. Enji helps you sit up and wipes your face before Toshinori is pulling you away from Endeavor showing no care that his cock was still in you. He sits down and pulls you onto his own lap ignoring your dazed look as your brain struggles with the various changes of attitude.

"You gotta thank daddy for helping you meet your hero, don't you think?” His hand cups your round cheeks before the other slams down on the other one. Overestimated tears tremble down your brown skin as you hiccup, "Yes daddy." You rock against his cock, both your saliva and his own precum staining your stomach and public hair.

He fills you, even better than Endeavor did, and begins his onslaught of thrusts. You scream, the sound no doubt traveling outside the room, "Daddy please fuck me!!!" The speed at which you were moving was one that could only be done by a hero and it was more pain than pleasure. The constant pounding of your cervix makes your teeth clench together each time his mushroom head punches it.

"Yes, give daddy this sloppy pussy, squeeze down for me-oh fuck!" Lewd words you never even believed Yagi was capable of saying leave his lips. Your shoulder is bit by the redheaded man behind you as he cups your breasts together, tugging on your nipple before rubbing the nubbed patterns on your areolas. "I can't take it any more daddy please!" Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he causes your pussy to queen and cream, balls slapping the underside of your ass, sticky with Endeavor’s cum.

"This is what you raised Yagi? A little whore?" Yagi chuckles, "I'm just as surprised as you are Enji, say why don't you join? You aren't one and done are you?" Endeavor scoffs, you wish that upon me don't you?"

Your mind, altered with lust, does not understand the hidden meaning behind the word "join" but you soon realize it when fat fingers are pushing their way in the same hole Toshinori occupied. "E-Endeavor?" You're shushed as his fingers pump inside you with Yagi’s cock, curling and prodding your walls at every turn. You feel fuller than you ever thought you could and the pressure only continued.

"Look at my pretty little girl taking her daddy's cock, so fucking tight for me. Can you do this for Endeavor too? Fit both our fat cocks in your hero guzzling hole?" You nod at the degradation and feel the warmth from Endeavor envelope your back. His tip massages the stretched opening as Yagi stops thrusting for a moment.

There is silence, and then there is pain. You hardly feel the initial penetration of Enji’s cock, but you do feel it when Yagi tries to move again. You can hardly breathe between the sandwich the 3 of you created and your comfort is practically ignored as they both begin to move at opposite tempos. “O-oh god!” With your eyes screwed shut and mouth agape the two men grunt against your ears.

Your g-spot and cervix are both pushed against as their thrusts become more impersonal. Endeavor grabs your arms from around Yagi’s neck before pulling them behind your back. Your legs tremble uselessly around Toshinori’s thighs. His breath huffing the more he exerted himself steam easily slipping from his lips the faster he went. “I’m gonna cum!” Endeavor grunts, pistoning out of you even faster than he was before. A hand rests on his shoulder and he’s shoved back making you whimper from the partial emptiness. “Not inside bastard.”

Yagi becomes his gental self again as his still hard cock slips from your entrance. He places you on the ground giving you time to prop yourself up before grabiing his dick and stroking it infront of your face. You are to fucked out to do anything but present yourself as a pretty little canvas as his cum paints your face. You lick the small drops painting your chin before flashing a coy smile, “Thank you Daddy!”

[kuromochimi]

Saved by a Gun

Part 1/3

Rokuhara Haitani Ran x Reader

♡ It would only take one jump to end your suffering. One fast decision. Now, standing on a bridge over a rushing river, your hands shaking and mind running, a man suddenly shows up, pulling you away from the edge… only to put a gun to your head.

Content & Warnings: Suicide Attempt, Topics on depression, anxiety, guns, angst, fluff, sexual themes MINORS DNI!

[ Taglist form: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScCF0aimw2uL5v47FX_HhgabxRUv34L64M6fhEj1ZGEmETLXw/viewform ]

Eviction Notice

Denied Enrollment

Overdue Debts

|| 1:47 am || The events kept replaying in your head as you stood on the edge of the bridge. The sound of water roaring below you sounded like comfort compared to the loud thoughts of how you would solve your problems. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to let yourself free fall from the 20 foot drop.. until someone pulled you by the collar and threw you on the rough concrete.

“Ow what the fuck?” You massaged your shoulder as it took the heaviest hit from being thrown. Though you had no time to ask questions because after your head cleared up, you realized that a gun was pointed to you head.

“Give it back” the man said

“Give what back? I’m empty handed you ass hole”

The man was surprised at first. It was like you weren’t scared at all. Well given the fact that he just saw you about to jump off a bridge, it was highly likely that you indeed weren’t scared of dying.

“Just give me the flash drive and you can jump off any bridge” he repeated himself, adding in a few more details as to what he was asking for

“I told you I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about”

He pulled your collar down from the back, revealing your butterfly tattoo just a little beneath your nape.

“Fuck. Wrong person. Sorry, I mistook your tattoo as something else”

And then he just walked away like nothing happened.

“WAIT” he had a gun. There was no one else around. Being shot was a faster, less painful way to go.

“What? I’m in a hurry” he stoically replied

“Shoot me”

“No. I’m not wasting bullets on you. The bridge is right there, just jump”

You ran up to him and took ahold of his hand holding the gun and pointed it on your head once again.

“Bitch I said I’m not doing it. Let go”

Without knowing, tears started to continuously flow from your eyes. You didn’t know why and when. Heck you didn’t even notice. Perhaps it was true when they said that people who commit suicide might have actually regretted it last minute. Perhaps you wanted to live but how? Your thoughts were pushed aside when you realized that the man looked familiar.

“Wait aren’t you.. haitani?”

He removes your hold on him and shoves you away, causing you to once again fall on the ground.

“You are, aren’t you? Ran Haitani? I’ve seen you in Roppongi lots of times before” You often hung out at clubs and bars in the area. Though you didn’t have the money to go drinking at such places, your pretty face certainly earned you more than a couple free drinks from easily swayed men.

“So what if I am?” He sounded just about done but somehow, he was still humoring you 

In that split second, the words that spilled from your lips became the words that would change you life course in the long run.

“Take me with you”

“You? If you know me then you do know the nature of my gang, right? You willing to do all that dirty work, angel, willing to get blood on your hands?” he walked back to where you were and now he sounded more interested

“Y- yes just take me with you”

“For the money? recognition? a place to stay?”

“For the money” you replied

Despite ran being cold hearted, he never really broke bones and hurt people for fun. It was either they had done something to him, his brother or for gang issues. Outside those things, he stayed neutral and chose not to engage; which was also why he refused to shoot you moments ago. Though he did not give a care about what would happen to you, he didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger given that you had nothing to do with his current concerns.

“A fresh, innocent face we can use to do our dirty work? I like it”

Ran walked towards a parked motor bike, situating himself on it to turn it on, revving the machine a couple times before looking back at you

“I thought you wanted to come with me? Get the fuck up and come over here”

You shot up and quickly made your way to him, riding behind him on the bike, using the back part of the seat to balance yourself. About thirty minutes later, you arrived at a run down looking place in a dark, shady alley. 

“Once we get in there, you won’t speak to anyone unless I say so, you’re not leaving my sight, and you’re not to even touch anything, understood?”

“yes”

He pushed the metal doors, closing it behind him. The place looked luxurious unlike how it looked from the outside. The hallway was long but not even halfway through it, Ran made a left turn into a room with other men in it. You regretted your decision. What if they take advantage of you? You thought of how you should have probably just jumped off the bridge or whether you were capable of running away right then and there.

“Haitani who the fuck is that? Got yourself a little play thing?” one of them shouted. He was really tall and muscular and his voice resonated all over the room.

“Yeah kinda. So? What did you want me to do?”

“Find the god damn flash drive. All of the important shit is on there and if it the police manage to get their hands on it then we’re all dead. Weren’t you and your brother supposed to bring it back by next week? Hurry the fuck up”

“I have all the leads, just looking for the right people” Ran replied calmly

“I don’t give a fuck, just find it”

“You got it boss” ran was already walking away from the room, you not far behind him. Once the doors closed and it was just you and him outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“If that’s got you nervous then how are you going to handle the rest of the job?” Ran spoke without even looking back at you.

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[scuttle-buttle]

WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

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[chimchimsauce]

Fairest

Is beauty a blessing or a curse? All of her life, princess YN was told that her beauty was the greatest gift her late mother ever gave her. But when her looks attract a man cruel and bloodthirsty, YN begins to think that her greatest asset is the beginning of her demise.

“Checkmate.”

YN cannot help the grin that spreads across her face as she utters the word, watching as her older brother groans with disdain.

“You always win!” he complains, acting very much like a child.

“That’s because you always get too caught up in the current move, dear brother. The future decisions are the most important ones.”

YN’s older brother, first in line to the throne of their small country Ameris, huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Chess is like war. You get too focused on winning battles that cause you to lose the war. I certainly hope that won’t be the case for our kingdom . . .”

YN is only jesting. Her elder brother is an excellent leader and will make a wonderful king. He’s just really impatient with games. 

“I’m sure I can beat you next round!” her brother says playfully.

They both know it’s unlikely, but YN clears the board and begins to set up another game. As she’s placing the last pawn, a knock comes at the door. One of her handmaidens opens it, revealing one of their father’s special guards. 

YN’s breath catches ever so slightly before she schools her expression back into one of unbothered royalty. It’s always so hard to ignore her secret lover when other people are around, but she knows she must. A relationship between her and her father’s most trusted guard would cause a scandal that would undoubtedly get Wonho’s position revoked. He’s worked his entire life to get good enough for a spot on the King’s royal guard and there’s no way YN would do anything to sabotage that.

“His majesty has requested your presence,” Wonho says, not even looking YN in the eyes.

He’s much better at keeping his emotions in check.

YN’s brother stands, tapping his finger on the chessboard.

“Lucky thing I’m being summoned, or else I would have absolutely destroyed you in this game.”

YN laughs, maybe a little more politely than she would if Wonho wasn’t standing at the door.

“I’m sure of it,” she says, “Feel free to come back anytime to play again.”

YN’s brother nods and leaves her quarters, following after Wonho. Being the heir to the throne means that YN rarely gets to see her brother. He’ll be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time as he tours the neighboring countries to learn everything he possibly can, as well as maintain a positive relationship with their allies. Ameris may be a small country, but it is located in the perfect spot for transcontinental trade and filled to the brim with valuable resources. One could dig in a mine for just a few moments and emerge with a diamond the size of a robin’s egg.

Thankfully, Ameris has not had any problems with its neighboring countries in hundreds of years. The last war was ended by YN’s great great great grandfather and peace has blanketed the region since then.

Well, for the most part. In the last several years, the Eastern kingdom of Moonbyss has been steadily expanding and taking over small, unclaimed villages. They have not breached any borders or broken any treaties, however, so there is no cause to worry quite yet.

YN sighs as her thoughts shift back to Wonho. Their secret love affair has been going on since they were teenagers. At first, Wonho was just an attractive boy who was willing to indulge her wanton fantasies, but soon enough an affection bloomed between them. It’s so hard to pretend not to be in love with him, especially when he grows more handsome by the day.

“Thinking about him, my lady?” YN’s lady in waiting, Irene, asks her.

Irene is YN’s closest confidant and friend. She knows almost everything about the princess. Ever since she arrived in the castle from abroad two years ago, they have been inseparable. 

“Of course,” YN says, standing and walking over to the window that overlooks her private gardens. 

She opens the glass door and steps outside, her skin warmed by the sunshine. It’s an absolutely beautiful day, cloudless and blue. Birds chirp sweetly and the scent of flowers wafts on the breeze. The princess stops at the fountain in the middle of the garden, sitting on the bench and looking into the bubbling water. YN often made wishes in this fountain when she was younger, tossing in coins that reflected the sunlight back at her. More recently, though, she’s only wished for one thing - to be with Wonho. Her father, although he loves her, would never allow a union between them. Her older brother, however, has promised to allow YN to marry whoever she desires once he takes the throne on his thirtieth birthday.

He does not know that someone already has her affections, but no matter. YN is not worried about being married off. While her brother is the only prince in the kingdom, the king was blessed with twelve daughters and YN is the youngest. Every available man of power in the kingdom and the surrounding countries have already been wedded. 

YN has Irene bring her a book to read and she settles in, getting comfortable in her garden. The hours pass by quickly as she is sucked into the tale, but soon enough a shadow blocks her reading light. 

The princess looks up and is shocked to see Wonho standing in front of her. Alarm flares up inside of her. The two of them have agreed to never be seen together in daylight.

“Won-”

“Your Majesty,” Wonho says stiffly, “The King requests an audience. I have been asked to escort you to the throne room.”

YN hesitates a moment. She can tell that something is wrong by the strain in his voice. Something must really be bothering him for the guard to allow it to leak into his words. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, but she never knows who is watching so she simply stands, handing her book off to Irene who stands beside her.

“Very well,” YN says, trailing after him and back into the castle.

He walks three paces in front of her, leaving her to stare at his back. So much about him has changed in the last few years. He’s gained an immense amount of muscle, something that YN has really grown to appreciate during their midnight endeavors. It’s a shame that everything is covered up by his uniform, but she must admit he looks dashing in it.

As they walk, YN notices that Wonho isn’t the only one acting strangely. The various maids and butlers who usually flit around and chatter pleasantly amongst themselves are dead silent, walking with perfectly straight backs and zipped mouths. The princess notices a few pitying looks tossed her way and something cold settles in her stomach.

What’s going on?

Wonho knocks on the throne room’s closed doors. They are ever so carefully opened a few moments later and Wonho leads YN into the grand room.

Her father sits on the throne, a smaller one empty next to him. It always makes YN sad to see her father by himself. The Queen passed away only a year ago and was her father’s closest friend. The late Queen was kind to everyone, even YN’s mother - a poor girl her father discovered in one of his hunting trips. Apparently, YN’s father was so taken with her mother that he simply had to add her to his harem and rarely visited any of his other concubines afterward. But it didn’t last long - YN’s mother died shortly after her birth. Everyone says that she left YN her ethereal beauty, a fact that led YN to being hidden away in the castle for the majority of her life.

“You’re the most valuable diamond in all of Ameris,” her father told her once, “It’s important that few people know of your existence.”

It had saddened YN when she was younger that she could not attend the lavish parties and balls like her elder sisters and brother, but she came not to mind once Wonho came into her life. It mattered not if other people thought she was beautiful - as long as Wonho desired her, that was more than enough.

Standing to her father’s side is YN’s brother. The jolly air that had surrounded him mere hours ago is gone completely now. He looks furious, an expression YN has rarely seen on his face. He’s looking at a man who stands before the throne, a crown placed perfectly on his head.

Visiting nobility? 

The man turns as the click of YN’s heels sounds out against the marble flooring. YN’s step falters as a large, nearly terrifying grin spreads across his face. He is incredibly handsome, but the smile on his face does nothing but creepy the princess out.

“There she is,” he says, quickly extending his hand towards her.

YN, uncertain, looks at her father who gives her a stiff nod. Hesitantly, YN places her hand in the stranger’s grasp, making sure to school her expression as he places a cold kiss that lingers too long against her gloved hand. The princess has never been more glad to be wearing gloves.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” YN asks, careful to watch her throne. 

“King Seokjin Moonbyss, your highness. I must say, the rumors of your beauty do you no justice. You’re much more radiant in person.”

YN’s blood freezes in her veins. This cannot mean anything good.

“Thank you,” YN says, a slight tremble in her voice.

The man has still not released her hand.

“YN,” her father says, giving her an excuse to look away from this man - no, this monster - beside her, “King Seokjin has asked for your hand.”

YN barely squashes the shout of protest that so desperately wants to escape her throat. There’s no way this can be happening! No way! Her eldest brother is just three years shy of taking the throne, three years more of having to tiptoe around with Wonho. No way she can get married, especially to someone from so far away.

“Excuse me,” Wonho says, speaking up from his place behind YN, “I thought King Seokjin was already married.”

Relief flows through YN. If Seokjin is already married, then surely this is an error.

“She failed to provide me with a male heir, so I had her disposed of,” King Seokjin says simply, glaring at Wonho, “Do not question me again.”

There is not a trace of remorse in his voice at all, nothing but anger.

YN begins to tremble.

“Father -” she begins.

“King Seokjin has made us an offer I cannot refuse,” he says, cutting her off, “And besides, YN, you’ll be able to be Queen. You never would have had that opportunity here.”

YN’s father would normally never make this sort of decision, especially not for the daughter he tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Of course, sweet YN,” King Seokjin says, “You are free to reject my offer if you so desire. I would, however, be forced to declare war on Ameris. After all, this country is the most resource rich of all the lands. It’s a shame. It would have been so much nicer to make a positive connection with this beautiful country. I wonder how much of its splendor will be left once my troops march through it.”

The threat is crystal clear. YN has to marry this King or her country will suffer for it. YN glances at her father and brother, seeing the fear that’s in their eyes. Ameris is much too small to fight Moonbyss and win, especially since the eastern country has been gaining a lot of territory very rapidly. YN swallows. In a matter of hours, her perfect daydream has been shattered.

“I would be honored to marry you, King Seokjin,” YN says, trying her hardest not to cry.

She can release her tears once she’s in the safety of her own chambers. She cannot show any weakness in front of this man.

“Beautiful and smart,” King Seokjin says, “It will be my honor to have you as my bride. After all, the most handsome man in all the world deserves the most beautiful bride of them all.”

YN never really thought much of her beauty. She’s always heard it was a blessing, the only one her mother ever left her, but right now it feels like a curse. 

“I pray that you’ll join me for dinner this evening, my betrothed,” King Seokjin says.

“I would love to,” YN says even though the thought of having to spend even a single moment more in this man’s presence makes her want to hurl.

“You best retire to your quarters, my love. Your father and I have much to discuss before this evening. I’ll send someone for you when I’m ready.”

The dismissal is clear. YN turns swiftly and leaves the room, Wonho following closely behind her. She walks much too fast to be considered ladylike, but she does not give a damn, wanting to be as far away from the throne room as possible. 

“YN, wait!” Wonho calls out to her.

He grasps her wrist, uncaring of who will see, and pulls her to his chest. As soon as the warmth of him touches her, YN loses all composure, breaking down and sobbing into his pristine uniform.

“Wonho,” she cries out, grasping him as close as she can, her fingers creasing the silk he wears, “I don’t want to be Queen! I want to marry you!”

YN feels something wet fall against her head. Based on the way his shoulders shake, Wonho is also crying. She hasn’t seen him shed a tear since one of his best friends was murdered on a mission.

“What are we going to do?” YN asks into his chest, her voice muffled, “I don’t think I can bear being apart from you, especially with someone as cruel as the King!”

“We’ll figure something out, YN, I promise,” Wonho says, pulling away just enough to give YN a salty kiss.

“At least once more,” YN says once their lips part, “I must have you at least once more.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Wonho says, pulling her along to her chambers.

The two fall into the sheets, both knowing that this is the last time despite desperately wanting to spend eternity together.

On the other side of the castle, Irene makes her way through the hallways, stopping at a grand door and knocking three times. No one answers, so she swings it open, prepared to wait for as long as it takes. 

Maybe half an hour later, King Seokjin opens the door, looking quite pleased with himself. He doesn’t greet Irene, instead instantly walking over to her and pinning her against the wall, his lips meeting hers passionately. Irene barely has any time to catch her breath, but she doesn’t mind at all, too enamored with this man she knows is only using her.

When he was only a prince, Seokjin was infamous for being a womanizer. All too often, he lured servants and noble girls alike into his chambers, whispering promises and pressing kisses against their skin only to leave them abandoned like trash when he grew bored of them. Irene was one of those servant girls, but Seokjin has kept her around for longer than most. A part of Irene is convinced it’s because she’s special to him, but she knows it’s really not true.

Seokjin has been obsessed with YN, the secret twelfth princess of Ameris for five years now. Ever since he spotted her while visiting Ameris with his late father, he wanted her - needed her. After all, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, trying as he might to find another. His late wife was incredibly beautiful as well, but she didn’t compare to YN. No one else was worthy of her but him. It was YN that drove him to murder his own father and take the throne before he was supposed to. After all, Seokjin has never been a patient man.

Seokjin pulls away from Irene, looking unbothered as ever.

“No good,” he says, “Simply imagining that you’re YN does nothing. I’m tired of waiting.”

His words sting Irene’s heart. She tries not to be bitter, but jealousy is a powerful emotion, one that overshadows the genuine affection she feels for princess YN.

“Well,” the King asks her, “Who is it? The one YN claims to be in love with.”

The King rolls his eyes, gripping his fists tightly. How dare YN love another when he’s already claimed her.

“It’s Wonho,” Irene says, pushing down her feelings, “the guard that accompanied her today.”

“A guard huh? How dare he think he deserves someone as beautiful as YN!” he says, furious.

Seokjin is terrifying when he’s angry. Irene tenses, preparing for the worst. Instead of gripping her hair and tossing her to the floor like he usually does, Seokjin grabs a decorative vase and tosses it against the ground, watching as it shatters into a million pieces.

“You didn’t strike me,” Irene says, shocked.

“I have been practicing,” the King says, “After all, it would be a shame to make a single mark on YN’s perfect body.”

Much too soon, Irene is knocking on YN’s private chamber door.

“Your majesty,” she calls out softly, “Your betrothed has requested your presence.”

YN rolls over to Wonho, tears in her eyes. He blinks them away, wanting to remember this moment clearly.

“One moment,” YN calls out, listening as Irene walks away.

“Run away with me,” YN pleads, her voice desperate.

“You know we can’t,” Wonho says, his eyes sad.

“Yes we can!” YN insists, “You know this country better than anyone. We can get up right now and flee and -”

“YN,” Wonho says, “What about the country? You know we’ll be forced to go to war if you disappear.”

YN sniffles.

“I don’t think I can live without you,” YN confessed, “And if I can, I don’t want to find out.”

Wonho is silent for a moment before he sits up, an idea in his mind.

“What? What is it?” YN asks him.

“What if you didn’t?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to live without me? I’ve heard rumors amongst the staff of a poison you can take that will put you in a deep slumber for a fortnight. If some was mixed into your dinner tonight, it can seem that you’ve been poisoned and passed away. Then when you awake, you and I can disappear together.”

YN brightens. Even though being unconscious for a fortnight doesn’t sound pleasant, anything will be better than having to marry KIng Seokjin. Besides, she trusts Wonho with her life.

“Okay,” YN says, agreeing right away.

“Are you sure, YN?” Wonho asks her, “You will end up getting rather sick for a few days before the slumber.”

YN nods eagerly.

“Yes, anything,” she says.

“Very well.”

Wonho hops out of bed, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he possibly can.

“I’ll get everything ready. YN, go to dinner with the king, alright? I won’t be able to see you after this so as not to arouse suspicion. I love you, princess.”

He leans down to kiss her.

“I love you more,” YN says, watching as Wonho slips out of a glass door and into the gardens.

Unbeknownst to the lovers, King Seokjin is outside the door, his ear pressed against it to hear everything. He had come to escort his beloved like a sweet fiance would, only to hear his to be wife scheming to get away from him.

He’s never been so angry, but he suppressed it, not wanting to let YN know that he’s been here. He grabs Irene by the arm roughly and leads her out into the hallway, bending over to whisper in her ear.

“Make sure to add enough of the poison to YN’s food to keep her under for longer than a fortnight. Put as much of it in as you can without bringing her to the brink of death.”

“Are you sure your -”

Irene’s question is cut off when he backhands her, one of his elegant rings drawing blood.

“Do NOT question me!” he says, “Do as I order!”

Irene rushes off to do as the King says, tears brimming in her eyes. She’s never regretted being Seokjin’s spy until now, too blinded by love. She should have warned YN, should have helped her disappear with Wonho - someone Irene knows truly loves the princess. King Seokjin is just obsessed with her beauty and determined to own her like she’s some sort of object to be bought and sold.

Peeking around the corner, Irene sees Wonho pouring a liquid into the soup bowl meant for the princess. When he leaves and when the coast is clear, Irene snatches the vial from the counter and empties the rest of it into other dishes reserved for the princess before refilling the vial with water and placing it back where Wonho left it.

“YN, I’m so sorry,” she whispers to herself before fleeing into the night, never to be heard from again.

At dinner, YN pretends not to notice the odd taste in her food. It’s obviously been tampered with, but YN doesn’t let it show at all, eating properly and conversing with King Seokjin as much as she can bear. YN misses the look of glee in his eye as he drinks from his goblet, still believing that everything is going to plan.

YN starts feeling ill once the final course comes around. She quickly asks to be excused and King Seokjin offers to walk her back to her room. YN accepts, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own with the  way the room begins to spin.

For the next three days and nights, YN is in and out of consciousness, the world swirling around her in a nauseating mix of bright colors and fuzzy shapes. When she closes her eyes at midnight of the third day, her thoughts are on Wonho and the fact that the next time she opens them, she’ll be free to be with him.

But YN does not wake up. Not for a fortnight, not ever. Seokjin, furious, intends to find Irene and hang her for murdering his beloved before realizing that she’s nowhere to be found. It’s easy enough to frame Wonho for her murder and a matter of hours after YN dies, Wonho follows her from the gallows.

At his request, YN is preserved and dressed in a wonderful white wedding gown, still looking very much alive. He marries her anyway and has her crowned, determined to have her even in death. She’s too beautiful to be buried underground, so he commissions a glass coffin to display her in, putting her corpse in his bedroom where no one else can see her. King Seokjin finds that he does not mind YN being dead. She’s much less bothersome in passing, much easier to fall to his will.

King Seokjin stands before her, placing his hand flat against the cool glass of her coffin. Even in death, YN is the fairest of them all.

[mionemymind]

Chapter 1: Code 10-15

Favorite Crime

Series Summary: Y/n L/n, daughter of the villainous group, “The Gisbourne”. They’re known to do the cruelest things around the world in order to get what they want. In order to stray away from her family, Y/n is the founder and sole member of the vigilante group, “The Robins”. She does what she can in order to assist those in need of help in New York City.

However, what happens when the Avengers are tasked with finally defeating the Gisbournes? What happens when they use their newest member, Wanda Maximoff, to get to the black sheep of the family? What happens if they both fall in love? But what if it was all a mission to Wanda? 

A/n: This story is told through different splices of Y/n and Wanda’s story. Italics are generally flashbacks. And be sure to read the lyrics of the story. It’s not in the same order as the original song but this is purposely done :) (Not my GIF) 

Warnings: Betrayal, angst, cursing, happy ending 

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Bonus

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

“Guys, let me introduce you to our newest member of the team, Wanda Maximoff.” Heads turned as the brunette timidly walked into the room. She fiddled with her hands as she shyly mumbled a quick hello to the intimidating crowd. It was Natasha that broke the silence first. “Welcome to the team, Wanda.”

Soon introductions happened but Wanda had yet to say anything else. All she could focus on was trying her best to not read their thoughts. It seemed that Natasha was the easiest to sit by since her thoughts were surprisingly quiet. She found Tony and Thor to be the loudest while Bucky’s felt a little...damaged.

Nonetheless, Steve excused the two as he led Wanda to her new room. Opening the door for her, Wanda found herself to be in a spotless and minimalistic room. The colors were on the grayscale and everything smelled and looked brand new.

“Here’s your room.” Wanda walked in, enjoying the fact that she can finally have something of her own. But considering who she was living with, she felt a little overwhelmed at the possibility of the bed itself being worth more than her childhood home.

“Everything in here can accommodate your needs just as long as you know how to work one of these,” Steve said as he held up a small tablet for the room controls. Wanda laughed a little and jokingly asked, “Are you telling me you don’t?” Her voice was strongly laced with her Sokovian accent, which was something Wanda lightly cursed herself about.

This was a change. This was new. This was a place she could start a new page and maybe even a new Wanda.

Steve slightly blushed as he scratched the back of his neck. He placed the tablet back on the nightstand and said, “Well...let’s just say I’m not one with the current times.”

“So, an old soul?”

“You could say that.” Slowly backing to the door, Steve held on to the handle and said, “But, I’ll give you time to adjust. Also, before I forget, we have a talking robot in the building. So if you hear a very smart alek voice, that’s just the robot.”

Steve gave Wanda a comforting smile before closing the door. Looking around once more, Wanda noticed that she had her own flat screen in the room. There was a desk in the corner as well as two various doors. Going through them, one door led to her own luxurious bathroom and the other led to her own walk-in closet.

Wanda walked back into the main room and saw that she had glass doors leading to the balcony. Pulled in by the breathtaking view, Wanda slid out to the balcony and watched the scenery in front of her. It was night time yet New York felt as lively as the morning. “This really is the city that never sleeps.” And as Wanda continued to watch, she could only hope that this was the new beginning she needed.

“So you’ve been here a couple of months,” Clint stated as he and Wanda finished their training session. “How do you feel?” He tossed Wanda a towel which she caught with ease. While wiping the sweat off her face, she responded with, “I feel good.”

It was an obvious lie yet Clint didn’t manage to catch it. And if he did, he would’ve figured it was the nervousness talking. However, Wanda couldn’t help but think that she’s never felt so lonely till now.

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Clint picked up the various items they used for training and started to place them back in their original places. “Heads up, I think Steve is going to give you your first big mission.”

Wanda was putting back the weights when she said, “Really?” For the first few months, she’s been shadowing the other Avengers during their missions. Sometimes they would ask for Wanda’s opinion on how she would have handled the situation and other times she would just watch.

“Yeah. The team is impressed. You learn really quickly.”

“I don’t want to let anybody down.” It was rather late for it because Wanda already felt like she let herself down.

“You won’t. I know you won’t.”

Looking down at the file given to her, Wanda first noticed how young the girl looked in the picture. There were tiny scars on her face but none looked prominent. The thing that pulled in the most was her alluring eyes. They appeared soft at first but Wanda had a feeling there was more to those tired eyes.

“So, her name is Y/n L/n and my mission is to get close to her?” Wanda asked. She couldn’t really wrap her thoughts on why she was needed on this mission. The girl didn’t seem like the type to know much combat. So it shouldn’t be too hard for the Avengers to get her.

“Correct. You’re tasked with getting close to her to the point she can trust you. Since not a lot of people know you’re a part of the Avengers, you can help us use her to get to her family.” Wanda sighed. She didn’t want to disappoint them on her first big mission but why did it feel like the Avengers were in over their heads?

Regardless of her anxiety, Wanda swallowed it down and said, “Okay, when should I start?”

Those things I did Just so I could call you mine The things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

Natasha, Steve, and Wanda sat in hiding. They were currently waiting for their target to arrive at the designated location. Various S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hid with the scenery and the night had only aided in their secrecy.

As the minutes ticked by since Y/n’s last message, Wanda couldn’t help but feel nauseous from her actions. Here she was, standing with the good side of history yet she couldn’t help but feel so repulsed by her actions.

Doubt plagued her mind which only increased her anxiety. While fiddling with her fingers, Wanda could only think about her. She thought about everything that could happen to Y/n. From how the government could possibly treat her to the possible interrogation that she would have to go through.

Oddly enough, she hoped that it wasn’t Natasha that could have a chance of doing that. Because if it were her, Y/n would end up in two ways. Beaten and bruised or hopelessly enamored by Natasha. Both ways made Wanda more anxious for this outcome. As sick as it was, Wanda would rather have Y/n be beaten and bruised than the latter. Jealousy was an ugly look on Wanda as well as betrayal.

“Do we really have to do this Steve?” Wanda could feel her hands start to shake but she quickly pulled herself together. Steve was right beside her. At any chance he felt that she was distracted, he would have her immediately escorted out.

“It’s the only way, Wanda.” The lack of doubt in his voice made Wanda shiver. She felt hopeless yet she was the only one to blame. She practically led Y/n to slaughter.

“But she’s nothing like them. You see what she does on her own.” Although Wanda knew there was no chance of pleading her case to Steve, she still tried because this was Y/n for fuck’s sake.

“I’m sorry Wanda but one good person can’t make up for what her entire family has done to many.” Looking back to the entrance of the tunnel, Wanda could only think about the good things that Y/n has done with her. Because to her, one good person was enough.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Wanda and Y/n were hanging out at an abandoned playground near the boat docks. Surprisingly, things were still intact despite the wear and tear they’ve been through. Y/n hung upside down on the monkey bars as she watched Wanda swing closely by her.

Maybe it was the way her hair flowed through the night breeze. Or maybe it was the way that she still shone through the darkness of the night. Or maybe it was this new happy look she had on her face. Or maybe - no - it was just the way she was - always is. She’s Wanda Maximoff. With all the blood rushing down to her head, and this overbearing feeling in her chest, Y/n said, “You know that I love you, right?”

Wanda stopped swinging and looked over at Y/n. There was a small bewildered look on her face but she didn’t look disgusted by the question. “What?” There was suddenly a rush of blood pounding in Wanda’s ears. She hoped that her mind wasn’t playing tricks with her especially now.

“I know it’s crazy - I haven’t even taken you out on a first date or anything but,” there was a glint to Wanda’s eyes and that confirmed everything that Y/n was feeling, “...I do.”

Y/n pulled her body upwards and replaced her legs with her hands on the monkey bars. She swung back and forth to get her blood flowing in other directions besides her head. She looked at Wanda and saw this doubted look on her face. So Y/n quickly added, “Yeah, I love you.”

“And what makes you say that?” Wanda had various answers in mind to her own question. Y/n could possibly be on drugs or she hung upside down for far too long. Or maybe, Y/n is just out of her fucking mind. But still, Wanda only hoped that Y/n would reassure her that she heard correctly. That she does love her.

Thinking about it for a moment, Y/n suddenly found the right words to say as she swung forward and landed right in front of Wanda. She placed her hands on the ropes of the swing, her face lowering down Wanda’s, little distance between them as Y/n said, “Well, you see me as my own person. Not somebody that’s the daughter of something. Just...me.”

Wanda’s breath was caught in her throat. Suddenly her senses were filled with anything about Y/n. Her ocean scented cologne, the hair pomade she uses to style, and the way her face looked so beautiful as if it was constructed by Michelangelo.

“Anyone can do that Y/n,” she whispered. Her eyes showcased her heart as she kept looking down at Y/n’s lips. But the way Y/n’s masked made her eyes looked constantly made Wanda look back up.

“I wouldn’t call you anyone,” Y/n said cockily. “You’re Wanda Maximoff. The girl that sees the best in people and the girl I so happen to be in love with.” Love. It was so easy for Y/n to say to Wanda despite everything she has been through with her family.

No one taught her love yet when she looked at Wanda, all she could do is feel it. “You feel so comfortable saying that around me yet I haven’t said it back,” Wanda joked. By now, her breath caught in her throat with how close they were getting.

By now, their foreheads touched as Wanda’s grip on the ropes of the swing tightened. “Well, I have a feeling that you will someday. And if you don’t, at least I got it off my chest.” And someday would be today.

Slowly, the two were leaning in when - RING!

The annoying alarm that blared through Y/n’s beeper made her groan. Now, someday would be in the future. “Uhhhhh - duty calls,” she said in distaste, however, Y/n had so badly wanted to stay with Wanda. Surprisingly, Wanda felt the same way. But vigilante duties were important to Y/n. So with another kiss on Wanda’s cheek, Y/n saluted goodbye. “See you Wands. You better practice saying those words now.” Y/n left with a wink and a smile on her face.

The room was tense as Y/n stood before her family. Sharp eyes looked into Y/n’s soul as they beckoned her to finally say her peace. “I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore.”

This type of tantrum was nothing new with Y/n. Everyone knew she didn’t like being part of this family but it never got this intense. “You don’t know what you’re saying Y/n,” her Dad reasoned but frankly, he was getting aggravated by this whole shenanigan.

“No, I do know what I’m saying.” She knew her family wouldn’t treat her seriously. They never did and she was hoping that they would once more because, after this fight, she would never come back.

“You’re throwing your life away, over what? Some girl?” The whole thing was quite pathetic to them. How could you throw the whole world away for somebody they believed Y/n hardly knew?

“She’s treated me better than you,” she countered. However, her family simply rolled their eyes at her statement.

“Oh yeah? Go ahead with your little friend then but don’t come running back when things go south.” The cigar in his hands was placed into the ashtray nearby. Y/n’s parents hardly looked when they heard Y/n’s footsteps leaving the room for they truly believed their daughter would come back. Because in a family like theirs, blood is the only thing you can trust.

Perched up on the balcony, with the breeze of the night flowing past them, Wanda and Y/n were laughing at the various things their powers did. However, the night turned with Y/n teasing Wanda endlessly. “I hate you,” she said as she slightly shoved Y/n as she smiled. “Sure you do,” Y/n replied with a smirk plastered on her face.

“I seriously do,” Wanda said as she noticed Y/n look at her lips. The two leaning in closer to each other. “Okay, and what are you going to do about it?” Y/n licked her lips as she could feel her heart explode with how little space was between them.

“Thi-,” the moment was cut short was Wanda’s phone rang. Their foreheads touched at the obvious annoyment to the interruption. Y/n had to physically remember to breathe as Wanda gave her a sorry smile. “Duty calls?” Y/n said to lighten the mood.

“Duty calls.” Seeing the frown on Wanda’s face made Y/n want to kiss her even more. “God, her lips must be soft,” she thought loudly. Wanda blushed at Y/n’s words but Y/n hardly noticed. All she wanted was to remove her frown. So she settled for the next best thing. She kissed Wanda’s cheek, letting it linger for a couple of seconds.

“See you later Maximoff.” Feeling overwhelmed with joy, Wanda shoved Y/n off the building as Y/n saluted her goodbye. Smiles were still plastered on both faces.

The ringing still went as Wanda saw Y/n successfully swing away. She picked up her phone with a sigh, having to remove all her flustered emotions as she answered the call. “Hello.”

“What the hell was that, Wanda?” She knew it was coming especially since the team had a very close eye on this mission. Failure wasn’t an option. “It was called acting, maybe you should try it, Tony.” She could already feel his eye roll from a mile away.

“You’re lucky I called when I did.” Luck...if it was luck, then her heart shouldn’t have ached this much. “Yeah...thanks, Tony.”

Y/n arrived at their place in huffed breaths. The adrenaline from breaking away from her family still running through her veins. “Wanda?!” She yelled out. The tunnel echoing her voice. “Wanda?!” There was still no response.

Before Y/n could call out again, the sound of combat boots echoed through the tunnel. Y/n sighed in relief knowing that Wanda was here. “Love - I think we can still make it before my family finds…”

Slowly, the figure stepped into the light provided by the moon. His chiseled jaw and god-like physique caused Y/n to go into a defensive mode. Y/n didn’t need to see the shield in his hand to know this was Steve Rogers aka Captain America.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Wanda?” Steve didn’t respond as he pressed his fingers onto his comms. “Target is here. Move forward.” Suddenly, Y/n could feel something latch on to her back, a spread of electricity shooting through her body.

Y/n dropped to her knees, groaning in pain as she still looked at Steve. A hard boot to her back made her face roughly connect to the dirty concrete. The electrifying feeling intensifying more than ever.

As they cuffed her arms and legs, Y/n couldn’t help but focus on how much her body was on fire. She thrashed and struggled in their hold and all she could think to yell out was, “Wanda!” Screams of pain and helpless begging for Wanda’s presence echoed through the tunnels.

And as Y/n slowly faded in and out of consciousness, Wanda stood at the exit of the tunnel, hearing the love of her life begging for her to save her.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @abimess​ @dandelions4us​ @lostandsearching​ @magically-queer-stuff​ @olsensnpm​ @randomshyperson​ @somewhatgreatexpectations​ @spacevoyager2​ @when-wolves-howl @xxromanoffxx​ @yourtaletotell

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Could you do carol x fem!reader but like so angsty that I can cry myself to sleep even tho I’m on antidepressants and can’t feel anything but plz let there b a happy ending thank u so much love u

I'm not sure if this qualifies as angst but here's a draft I had that I edited a little to fit the request. I hope it does the trick :)

It Wasn't For You

Summary: A mission gone horribly wrong drives a wedge between you and Carol. Is the bond fixable, or are the things you both said unforgivable?

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,998

You weren't sure what that emotion was that was boiling in your blood as you stormed back to your apartment. Was it worry? Were you just upset? You let it sit with you a moment as you unlocked the door. It wasn't either one of those things. It was rage. It was hot, unbridled rage. The cause of it was a certain Avenger who you had thought loved you enough to not do what she'd done. Clearly, she hadn't.

She was right behind you, stepping through the doorway before you could slam it behind you. You growled under your breath as she invited herself into your home, closing the door only once she was in. You didn't even bother turning to face her. You went straight to the bar and poured yourself a drink, not offering her one and not planning to let her touch a single drop of your alcohol. You took a sip of the hard liquor.

"Would you listen to me for one goddamn second?" She huffed out.

"I listened to you for multiple seconds, Carol. It doesn't change any facts."

"I did it for you!"

"I don't give a fuck."

Truly and honestly, you didn't. What she'd done was immoral, infuriating, and wholly unforgivable. She could get down on her knees right there in front of the bar and you wouldn't have batted an eyelash. It wouldn't be enough. In fact, you were convinced that nothing would be enough for you to forgive her. It didn't matter how much you had loved her yesterday or the day before. It didn't how much you loved her today.

"I'd do it again," she assured.

"Then I would do this again," you turned to finally face her, eyes locking with the brown ones that could usually instill a sense of peace in your chest, but today seemed to have no effect. "We're done, Carol. I think it'd be best if you left, please."

You could practically hear her heart dropping into her stomach. There was a part of you that ached to bring her into your arms and soothe that hurt look off her face. You knew better. That piece of you would fade eventually. You'd learn not to love her anymore. In fact, you could probably learn how to hate her. The boiling rage that was flowing through your very veins could assist you with learning that.

"Please-"

"I'm asking you to go," you said, firmer this time. "Please, get out."

If she'd had a tail to tuck between her legs, she absolutely would have. She didn't even bother to protest again. The expression you'd plastered on your face made it clear it wouldn't have done anything anyway. She slowly made toward the door. Her hand touched the doorknob and she cast her gaze back to you once more. You didn't dare let your features soften. You could've sworn there were tears in her eyes as she turned the doorknob and left.

You breathed out as the door closed behind her, finally daring to let tears streak down your cheeks.

*

You stared down the super soldier, neither of you wanting to speak first. He was the team leader though, and basically your boss. You knew even if he was the first one to speak, you were going to be the one spilling everything. You didn't want to, not one bit, but you knew you were going to have to anyway. You wondered if you had the strength to talk about it. You wondered if he had the strength to listen to your recollection of events.

"I just need to know what happened so when they ask-"

"Fuck, Steve! Natasha fucking died and we're sitting here having this stupid conversation," you shouted, rising to your feet, tossing the papers in front of you off the table, and moving to the window. "I have a goddamn funeral to plan!"

"Look, neither of us wants to talk about this, but we have to!"

You sighed, clasping your hands behind your back as you looked out at the compound grounds. There were agents training, running laps around the building. Sam was the one guiding them, seeming to enjoy barking orders at them. You tore your gaze away from a sight that seemed to have lost its beauty now that Natasha wasn't there alongside the Falcon, chuckling with him as they watched the new recruits huff and puff.

"It was me or her and Carol chose me," you finally gave. "I was what would have been fatally outnumbered and Natasha was down. She was in the jet. Carol could have either gone and stopped the jet from crashing, or she could pull me out and neutralize the enemy. She chose the latter. That's what happened. Happy?"

"I need your report."

"I need to plan Natasha's funeral!"

You stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. You let out the breath that had been stuck in your chest, leaning your head against the wall and shutting your eyes. It hadn't been an easy couple of days. You'd have been surprised if you'd gotten more than three hours of sleep in the last three nights combined. Somehow, though, you still didn't feel tired. You felt a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.

As if losing Natasha wasn't hard enough, you were also grappling with crippling amounts of anger and guilt. Natasha should have been the one that was saved. She was the obvious choice, and yet here you stood, and Natasha was gone. The anger, though? That was all for Carol. She had promised you that her relationship with you wouldn't have affected her at work, but it had. She'd saved you when she should have saved Natasha and all of those people in the impact zone.

"Can we talk?"

Speak of the devil.

You opened your eyes, using your shoulder blades to push yourself away from the wall. Immediately your entire stance got defensive. You crossed your arms over your chest. You watched as she searched your eyes in hopes of being able to read them like she usually did, but knew it would be to no avail. You didn't want her to know anything about what you were feeling. She didn't deserve to know what you were feeling. All she deserved was to be on the receiving end of your rage.

"No. I told you we're done, Danvers. We don't need to talk anymore."

"I'm not letting you go that easy."

"You don't have a damn choice!" You laughed humourlessly. "You can't stop me. You don't own me, and you definitely don't own my heart."

With that, you stepped around her, walking toward the doors of the compound. You could hear her footsteps trailing behind you. You didn't bother to turn around and glance at her, or even open your mouth to tell her to go away. You just let her follow you as if she were going to get something out of you. She wasn't going to. The last thing you wanted to do was hear some sort of failed explanation as to why she'd decided to save you. You knew why. It was because she couldn't separate home and work. You never should have trusted her to be able to.

You stepped out into the sunlight, cursing the sky for being so bright and sunny when it felt like it should be dark and gloomy. A storm cloud and roaring thunder might appropriately match the way you felt inside. Instead, you were forced to pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as you headed back toward your car, feeling you could use the walk toward it instead of making it come to you- a feature Tony has insisted you needed. As you arrived though, Carol finally reacted.

"Jesus Christ, would you hear me out?" She said, anger in her voice as she grabbed your wrist.

"Let go of me."

"Talk to me."

"I already said no. Let go of me," you demanded.

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, glaring at her as she retracted her arm. You unlocked your car, getting into the front seat. You didn't even glance at Carol as you started the engine, put the car into drive, and pulled out of your spot, leaving her behind.

*

It was early when you woke up the next morning, and immediately your day went different than normal. Your eyebrows furrowed when you stepped out of your bedroom and found an envelope slipped under your apartment door. It was completely unmarked. You knew the danger of anything unmarked. You were an Avenger. You couldn't find it in you to care, though. Without Carol's arms around you, you tossed and turned. Losing Natasha hurt so much more without Carol there to hold you through it. But it was her fault.

You reached down and picked up the envelope. You sliced it open with the knife that was resting on the table beside the front door. What you pulled out was a single piece of lined paper. It had clearly been ripped out of someone's notebook, the torn rings hanging off the left side. You unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Carol's handwriting inside. You crumpled it up and prepared to throw it, but then you hesitated.

She wasn't there. You didn't have to talk to her. You didn't want to talk to her one bit, but you were dying to hear her side of the story. This way, you didn't have to risk breaking and losing yourself to emotion in front of her. You uncrumpled the paper and held it out in front of you. You took a deep breath and let your gaze drift over Carol's familiar handwriting once before you moved your eyes to the top of the page.

Y/N,

I really hope you didn't throw this out. I suppose if you're reading this, you didn't.

I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I might not want to talk to me either. Your best friend died and it is entirely and completely my fault. I know that. It is my fault. I could have saved her, and I didn't. I just need you to know why.

I know you think that I broke my promise. I promised you, Steve, and every Avenger, including Natasha, that I would never let our relationship affect our work. It must seem like I failed to do that. I didn't break that promise. I love you. I do. But I wouldn't do that.

I knew that saving Natasha was more likely to be successful than saving you. Saving her would have meant saving those three civilians too. Not saving you, though, meant that they would have gotten away, and it meant they would have killed dozens of our agents on their way out. There were so many of them. They outgunned our men by too much. I didn't do it for you. I did it for them.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't save her. If I could have given my life for hers, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. If choosing her over you had been the right choice, I'd have done it. I promise you that.

I love you, even if you can't love me back.

- C

*

Tears spilled from your eyes as the empty casket was lowered into the ground. When a hand brushed ever so lightly against yours, you stiffened. You glanced for a moment over at the woman beside you. Those brown eyes were locked on you as well, for a moment, before turning back to the burial. You took a deep breath before moving, threading your fingers between hers. You pulled a little closer to her.

Maybe you should have listened to her. That letter you'd received yesterday had been a lot to think about. You'd been so angry with Carol because she'd closed you over Natasha and you'd been selfish enough to think it was because she couldn't separate her feelings for you from work. When you'd found out that wasn't the case, it had taken away all your reason to be angry at her. What happened to Natasha wasn't her fault.

Once the red had faded, you'd realized how stupid you'd been being. Carol had obviously been hurting and you'd been gatekeeping pain because you'd been blaming yours on her. The guilt stewing in her gut was probably millions of times worse than yours. She'd had to make that choice out in the field. It was the right choice, you saw now, but that would never matter. You knew how that felt, and you'd pushed her away and left her to deal with it alone. You wouldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive you for that.

When the funeral ended and people started heading toward the reception, you stayed glued to the spot. You could tell Carol wasn't sure what to do. Her hand had tried to pull away to give you space, but this time it was you that didn't let her leave you. The hand that was in hers tightened enough that she got the message. You had to wonder if she'd stay to hear it. As always, though, she was better than you. Her efforts to move away stopped.

You stayed silent for a moment, standing in that position and wondering what to say. There might not have been words enough to express just how sorry you were. There might not have been anything you could say that would make her forgive you. You deserved that, though. You broke up with her. There was no obligation for her to take you back and you hadn't given her any reason to want to. You were the one who had pushed.

"I'm sorry, Carol," you muttered, knowing full well that wasn't enough. "I'm sorry for everything. I was selfish."

"I get it," she admitted. "It's okay."

She was better than you.

But it wasn't okay. What you'd done to her was far from okay. You'd taken one look at the guilty relief in her eyes after that mission and decided that she'd sacrificed Natasha for you. She was allowed to be relieved. You would have been, if the roles had been reversed. Just because you lost Natasha, didn't mean Carol wasn't allowed to be a little relieved that the love of her life survived. Now, you didn't get to be that.

"Baby... Carol, I just wanted you to know that I read what you wrote and I'm sorry for how I'd reacted. I'm sorry I didn't stop to hear you out before that and I'm sorry I pushed you away when you were obviously hurting."

She dared to pull you a little closer. "You can still call me Baby."

You had to let out a light chuckle at that, despite the tears on your face. You wondered if you were mourning Natasha or your relationship with Carol. Whatever the case, she reached out and brushed the pad of her thumb across your cheek. You couldn't resist leaning a little harder into her hand. She got the message, opening her hand and cupping your cheek, her palm pressing delicately against your skin and her thumb continued to trace your cheekbone.

"You were hurting too," she assured quietly. "You reacted that way because you were grieving. You needed someone to blame."

"It shouldn't have been you."

"I was easy," she said, hands sliding down so they were both in yours. "I could have saved her and I didn't. Whatever reasoning I might have had, that was the truth."

"I'm supposed to love you."

"You don't love me?" She questioned.

"I do! Of course I love you, Carol. But I haven't been great at doing that recently. I should have-"

"You love me and you were grieving your friend. That's it. And I love you too," she said, squeezing your hands. "Can we stop being broken up now?"

She was standing in front of you, a tiny smile on her lips, and forgiving you. She was asking you to take her back, like it wasn't supposed to be you on your knees begging for her forgiveness. You stepped forward, taking your hands out of hers so you could instead put them on her cheeks, and pulled her toward you until your lips had met. She kissed you back immediately, her hands finding your hips. She pulled away from you.

"So yes?" She said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Because Natasha got us together and breaking up for good over her casket would not be honouring her memory very well."

"No, it wouldn't," you said, leaning your head onto her shoulder. You looked down at the wooden casket. "I miss her so much already, Carol."

"I know. Me too, Honey."

Your heart felt the slightest bit lighter now. You would've given anything for Natasha to be okay. The fact that she was gone still felt like a knife through the chest. At least now, though, you had Carol to hold you at night and kiss the tears off your cheeks. She had you to do the same for her. That was all either of you could do. Now, only time could lessen the pain. Carol put her arms around you and held you closer.

Just as you went to tell her once again that you loved her, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the number that was coming from outside the country. She showed it to you and you took the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Did it work? Do they think I'm dead?" Said the so familiar voice.

You glanced up at Carol, sure the shock on her face matched yours.

"Natasha, what the hell-"

"We've got a new mission. Are you and your lovebird up for it?"

Carol kissed your cheek and then spoke to the woman on the phone. "Absolutely."

[zvnphoria]

- how being koko’s best friend would be like

a/n - had too much fun with this. THIS IS VERY LONG UM. this is an apology for being inactive.

contains - fluff, teeny bit of angst, just platonic because YEAH, fem!reader, implied strong reader, reader has mommy issues (definitely not projecting), reader had a friendship with akane and looked up to her like an older sister

you and hajime go way back since you were kids. you two met in an interesting way but not necessarily in a good one.

you were walking to the nearest park to get out of your crazy house because your mom kept screaming at you over the littlest thing again. you forgot to wash the dishes (you didn’t necessarily forget that’s for sure). you stopped once you saw a boy around your age getting beaten up by some older kids. his hand gripped tightly on what looked like a school bag and protected it like his life depended on it.

it didn’t matter anymore because you had just knocked out both of the bullies in no time without a thought— almost as if it was normal to you. when you looked at the boy, he had blood going down from his forehead to his cheek, heavily panting and on the verge of passing out. he’s not the fighting type, huh. luckily you had a towel wrapped around your neck since you had just gotten out of the shower when you walked out your house, you weren’t gonna spend much time at the park anyways

you kneeled down and wiped the dripping blood off his face and noticed a bigger figure running towards you both. it was.. a girl?

“hajime-kun! what happened here?!” she panicked as she checked your surroundings

“akane-san.. it’s no big deal i promise..”

“no big deal?! i knew something was up when you rushed the other way. and my bag also happened to be missing! why didn’t you ask for help? you don’t need to be independent all the time.”

“and you,” she began, making eye contact with you

“are you okay? are you hurt?”

“no no! i’m fine don’t worry.”

“she was actually the one who knocked them out, akane-san,”

the older girl looked at the unconscious bullies, then back at you with shock and amazement in her eyes

“you did this? that’s amazing!” she says as she quickly takes your hands and wraps it around hers

“uh.. yes i promise it’s really not a big deal. i’ve dealt through worse, trust me,” you say as you gaze at the direction of your house

“worse or not this is still definitely something! even i cant beat someone up, and i’m way older than you!” she chuckled

“well it’s not like you have the heart to do something like that, akane-san,” the boy comments

“hahah you’re right, you’re right. anyways we should get going now— the sun is gonna set very soon, and you should get home as well. is your house nearby? we can walk you if you’d like,”

even ‘til this day you still don’t know why you didn’t decline her offer. was it because she was nice? it didn’t matter anymore, because if you had declined, you wouldn’t get to meet such amazing people.

it’s been a few months after meeting hajime and akane, and you had also met akane’s younger brother who was your age— seishu! you four would often hang out, whether it was at the inui home or at hajime’s house. getting to know them was pretty fun, and very interesting because a certain someone had a crush on akane.

it was definitely not seishu because they’re siblings and that’s just weird, definitely not you because akane had reminded you of your older sister who was almost never in your life, so that only left one choice— hajime.

his crush on her was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t stand seeing him try to impress her every now and then. he even ditched his glasses and bought contacts just for her to compliment him! he’s whipped huh..

one day you decided to help him out a little with his crush. it was another day of your usual hang outs except this time it was at your local mall! akane’s birthday was coming up and you three had collectively agreed to take her to the mall and see if she would see anything she’d like. turns out she was eyeing some platforms with red on the bottoms, and you took notice.

seishu dragged her to go to the food court with him because he was “hungry” so you and hajime took the chance to buy the heels. you were both now at the cash register, waiting for the register person

“i don’t understand you,” you began

“i don’t understand why you like her so much. i mean— i get that’s she’s amazing and nice and pretty and all but.. there’s another reason why you like her. something must’ve happened for you to be so attached to her so what is it?” you meant no harm with this question whatsoever. you were simply curious and that’s all.

before he answered, he smiled to himself and looked back at you

“she’s the only one that makes me feel not under pressure all the time. she’s the one who constantly reminds me that i shouldn’t be so independent and that i should always ask for help.” as you took a breath in to reply, he stopped you

“before you say anything, i know. i know she doesn’t like me. i know she’s just being nice. but there’s nothing wrong with a one-sided crush right?” he grins

even though he was beaming with a smile in front of you, you knew. you knew this wasn’t how he truly felt. you knew that deep down he was hurt but it was understandable. after all, he was just a kid wasn’t he? you saw right through him.

it was a shame after what happened the next couple of weeks after that conversation. it all happened so fast and none of you were prepared for it. you weren’t prepared for the incident that had happened to akane. a few days before it occurred, koko proudly told you that he was planning to confess and you were way against it.

“huh?! but i need to get this off my chest, y/n! i don’t care if she rejects me or not!”

“haji, i have a bad feeling about this.. i’m serious. you know how i always get bad feelings and they turn out to be true!”

he groaned and scooted far from where he was originally sitting which was right next to you. you sigh and got up to sit down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t escape

“i just don’t want you to get your hopes up, that’s all.” deep down you knew the truth. akane wasn’t interested in boys one bit despite all the confessions she had received almost every week.

“fine. you have a point. but im still going with this,”

all you could do was do nothing but let him. oh how you wished you protested more, because in return all he got was a huge burden on his shoulders.

“please ma’am, just please tell me what room akane inui and seishu inui are in,” you shouted as tears were rolling down on your cheeks. “107, right down the hall and take a left ‘hon”

you bowed and quickly made your way into the room. as you burst the door open, your eyes immediately go on seishu who looked so sad to the point where he didn’t even bother to look up at you. you hug him with a feeling of relief flowing in your body, but soon that feeling was gone when you asked where akane was.

you stood outside the door, not knowing why your feet couldn’t move. what’s wrong, y/n? her voice rang your ears. go on, don’t worry i’ll be right here next to you and if you get scared, just hold my hand! right. that was the time you were at a “haunted” house together and you were scared to go in. why are you being reminded of this right now?

you gulped and slowly opened the doorknob and found a crying boy in front of you, hands grabbing on the sheets with his head on the edge of the bed. you couldn’t do anything. all you could do was sit next to him with your head resting on his shoulder while you were crying.

a few years after that, you both acted as if nothing had happened. not because you wanted to forget akane, but because you knew akane would’ve wanted you both to continue living on without her.

despite not dating, you two would always have couple tendencies like feeding food to eachother or hugging often but you’re just THAT close to the point you can probably kiss without feeling any romantic attraction whatsoever

you couldn’t hang out with him as much anymore because of all the gang related things he’s doing. to make it up to you, he knocks on your window late at night and sleeps over most of the time. you talk to him about the usual— have you been eating? you should get more rest. and so on.

you were the one who got him to start wearing eyeliner! at first he just looked at you with a confused face when you handed him it as his present, but then you explained that if he wants to go fully dedicated to the black dragons, the wings of the eyeliner would represent the wings of the dragon. he didn’t wear it at first, all he did was ruffle your hair and said he’d think about it— and he kept his word! so now he’s the iconic money-making genius that wears eyeliner.

after all that’s happened between you two, there isn’t a single awkward moment you share. you know those friends who bring up an adult related topic out of completely nowhere? you two were those friends.

“i was walking by an alley and i heard a girl getting fucked,” he says while chewing the piece of gum you handed to him

“..and??”

“i’ve never walked away so fast in my life.”

there are days where you’re sad but, of course, you don’t tell him. in fact you don’t need to tell him because he’ll know when you’re upset.

“so are ya gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he says as he rests his head on your thighs

“ugh how do you always know..”

“because we’ve been together for the longest, duh.”

he doesn’t show it much, but he cares for you more than you think he does. overprotective and can’t help but show it at times, but don’t worry! he’s doing it because he loves you. remembers the littlest things you talk about and are interested in. he’s also constantly on the lookout so that you don’t get hurt or even worse.

when he’s the one who’s upset, you immediately know. he’s quieter than usual, zoning out a lot and just not paying attention to what you’re saying to him, almost like he’s in his own little world. before you initiate a conversation, you play with his hair so he’ll feel comfortable as a way for you to convince him to tell you what’s wrong.

even though it happened such a long time ago, he still thinks about her. you cant blame him, you do too! if you were to describe your best friend with one sentence, the first thing that would pop up in your head was weak little boy. not weak as in physically weak, but weak as in mentally weak. he can’t help but get emotional when it comes to her, which is understandable.

“it’s not your fault, hajime. she left you with no proper closure, and now you’re carrying guilt and burden on your shoulders. anyone would feel the same or even worse in your position.”

he didn’t respond but he doesn’t need to. all that matters to him is that you’re next to him, comforting him with your kind words like you always do. you both have some differences which caused a few arguments, but in the end you would still be best friends.

speaking of arguments, you argue either over the dumbest things ever or over serious topics. one time you got mad at him because he was beating you in a video game and his smug expression was not helping at all. you kicked him out of your house because you were just THAT frustrated. you felt guilty so you decided to walk to his house and apologize but stopped once you saw a certain figure trying to climb up to your window.

in the start of the serious argument, it was completely something different than what you were yelling at each other about now.

he showed up at your house with your favorite boba and snacks. you demanded him to put those down.

“hajime. food— no. MONEY cant keep me happy forever, and that also applies to you!”

“then what else am i supposed to do?!” his voice started getting weak. he was never the type to argue because he’d always get emotional.

“what am i other than a money-making genius? other than a wallet?”

“i cant do anything about my situation, y/n. nothing. because that’s all i am. just a stupid wallet for everyone to use.” he says about to walk away until you grab his sleeve to stop him.

“that’s not even true. you’re so much more than that, hajime. i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry.” you were crying into his chest and he couldn’t help but cry with you.

he spoils you 100%, no doubt. there was a point in life where you would always decline but you had just gotten so used to the offer that you got tired of fighting back. i mean, how could you? he was so willing and eager and most importantly HAPPY to do this for you.

hajime cant drive motorcycles and you constantly tease him about it, which he just responds to you by squeezing your cheeks together so you could shut up. the bad thing about this is that you guys always have to walk or go on a bus to the specific place you’re going to which is pretty tiring at times. although that doesn’t matter because what matters is that you both have each other.

back to the overprotective part.. you got called by this boy to meet him at the rooftop by the end of school and you already knew what was about to go down because of your shoujo manga reading sessions. the first thing you did was call hajime and he immediately got there to warn you about what you were gonna get yourself into.

“don’t you already have someone you like??”

“uh.. no?”

“i couldve sworn you liked that ‘tora dude..”

“keep your mouth shut!”

“…so you’re gonna reject him right?”

and you did! nicely, of course. hajime advised you should make come off as mean so he wouldn’t bother you again but you just ignored him and pretended like you didn’t hear anything.

being his best friend contains some ups and downs, but that’s the point of true friendships— it’ll never be perfect.

[1994sunflower]

what if Michael accidentally hurts y/n. Like maybe she’s coming home from her classes and she sees him beating someone up and she tries to stop him and he hurts her on accident. Sorry I just really love your writing especially angst ;)

thank you so much! i love angst too hehe...I dont know how angsty this is but i put a little bit of fluff at the end lol

also, i’m so sorry for being so inactive guys i really am working on stuff i promise :(( but i’m also making like 20 essays for school applications so it’s going slowly. hope you like this!

in which michael accidentally hurts you

You’re never sure how they start. You couldn’t picture something making you so angry that you’d resort to fists. Even your boyfriend, as apathetic as he is with most people, you didn’t know his violent side intimately. It was just never the way Michael was with you. It almost felt like a stranger when you saw evidence of it acting against others, hurting others. 

You never minded much, just tried to stop him and chastised him a bit while you patched him up. Because at the end of the day you knew he wasn’t a bad guy. Even appreciated his ability to defend himself and you. But still the mystery was always preserved. How the man that held you close, looked at you with nothing but love could be the cause of so many broken bones and bloodshed. Was it his temper that you had never seen or was it his not caring of anyone or even himself, the harm it could bring to him if he wasn’t careful.

Either way you hated it. Hated it each time you heard of it, his (comparatively much more violent) past of it and even more when you caught him at it yourself. It was never on purpose. Because if Michael had known you were anywhere near the vicinity he would stop, or leave to finish his business without you being there to witness that side of him. 

You were docile, so much different than him. Michael knew that as well as anyone else. He knew he didn’t deserve you. So, he tried to hard to avoid adding to the list of why. He could imagine in his worst nightmares you seeing that dark side of him, the one that was so much better than before thanks to you, and be terrified. Realize what kind of man you had chosen and finally see that you needed someone better. Someone who wasn’t so aggressive, so violent, so scary. He didn’t want you to look at him with those eyes. Scared, like you never really knew him. Because the truth was you knew him better than anyone else.

Usually you’d catch him when you were walking back from class. Something he should be doing as well. Instead, he’d be somewhere where he imagined you’d never cross paths, far from your last class. Too bad you liked to walk around campus and take shortcuts more than you should. 

It was usually the same thing. He’d have the upper hand. With his height and strength, it was easy. But that’d leave a victim, someone who couldn’t properly defend themselves against the wrath brought on by whatever they had done to Michael. Sometimes as little as bumping into him. You, with all your goodness and empathy, always stopped your boyfriend because you knew only you could. And if you could help someone, you’d always take the opportunity. 

This time was a little different. Maybe Michael had gotten his days crossed, maybe he forgot you had lab that day and you’d have to pass by that way. But in the walk from your building back to off campus, in the little alleyway of one of the last buildings separating campus from the main street, you heard it. The building was tall and its brick walls looked more like formidable walls, so you had to keep walking until you were right at the entryway of the surprisingly big alley to see. 

But your boyfriend was unmistakable. And so was the way he was punching down another boy. The boy was younger than him, it was obvious, maybe even a freshman. Which somehow made it worse. But they were almost equally matched in height and the boy, either from adrenaline or reflex, wasn’t just holding his hands up in defense. He landed more than a few punches back at your boyfriend. Hitting him in his jaw and face, you already saw some scrapes on his temple and cheek. 

Your face contorted into panic at the sight of Michael getting hurt. Maybe even more fear-stricken at that fact than you would have been just seeing another person getting hurt by his hand. It wasn’t fair to care more about him than the other boy, especially when you were sure Michael was the aggressor. But you didn’t care. You loved him too much to see him get hurt. It was the reason you hated him fighting so much, you dreaded to see the consequences it could end up having on him. You’d told him so many times to stop fighting in the past but he wouldn’t listen. He was getting better but never stopping. Being as good for his girlfriend as possible so you’d be proud of him.

There wasn’t much need to worry, though. A few punches landed on him but he still was dominating the fight by far. Especially when he was more pissed off at the younger boy fighting back. But it didn’t matter. If it went on the way it currently was going, both of them would be more seriously injured than maybe they even realized.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t call out to him. Maybe it was the urgency of the situation that had you mute and just running to your boyfriend as quickly as you could. You always stopped him, but that was always when he realized it was you by the sound of your voice. It never occurred to you that he wouldn’t recognize your touch when he was so blinded by rage. You didn’t realize until you were too close, had already touched his arm desperately, hoping to stop any more attacks from raining down on the other boy. You didn’t even get a chance to call out to him, let him listen to your familiar voice that always seemed to soothe him.

By then, he had already pushed you away. He did it without even looking at you, his anger still directed at the boy and no one would stop him — at least when he thought you wouldn’t be there. 

“Get the fuck off me.” His words were in a tone you’d never heard directed at you, only at other people. And his hand hit your shoulder and sent you flying back, landing with a loud thud on the concrete. 

You weren’t sure if the feeling of your body left lingering on his fingers was what made him recognize who he had just pushed. Or maybe it was the recognition of your voice in the pained yell you had let out as you fell down. But he froze. So completely paralyzed, his body rigid. He was begging that as he turned around, slowly almost mechanically, he wouldn’t see you on the ground. That you wouldn’t be the person he had just physically hurt in his anger. 

It was fruitless. As he kept his grip on his opponents shirt, but stopped yelling, stopped assaulting; just looking behind him, dreading what he would see. It was you. You sitting up, your knees and arms scraped from the fall, some blood and red, raw skin on the injuries. Your pretty dress was crumpled and dirty, bits of concrete, dirt and filth marred your spotless person. His pure, fragile girl.

But it was your face that had him letting go of the boy, arms hanging limply at his side, anger forgotten and eyes wide in horror at what he had just done to his girlfriend who he loved so much. You were looking up at him, tears in your eyes from the pain. They flowed down your cheeks and while you were silent, your eyes screamed at him what hurt more than any of the punches he had just taken. It’s your fault.

He hadn’t pushed that hard. But to your smaller body, even a light hit from him would be painful and powerful. Especially with his added strength.

“Y/N…” The boy was long forgotten. Even when he took the opportunity to run away. Michael forgot the reason for the fight in the first place. Nothing, really, entered his mind as important except you. All his thoughts had zeroed in on the scene in front of him, what he had just done to you. You were the best thing to ever happen to him. He cared about you so much. He loved you more than anyone else, even himself. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He’d hurt himself before he let anything touch you. All he ever wanted was to protect you. But yet, he was the one that ended up doing just that.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t-” Know it was you. 

He fucked up. He’d never felt more ashamed at having lost control. If he hadn’t, he’d have stopped and seen it was you. He would have listened when your little hand took hold of his arm. Recognized the feeling of your skin on his like he could so easily do when he was in the right frame of mind. He wouldn’t have hurt you. You wouldn’t be on the ground, dirty and injured because of him. 

But as he stepped towards you, already bending down to help you up, check on you, it got worse. It was worse before you pushed yourself back with the heels of your feet, putting more distance between him and you, making sure he couldn’t get near you. “Don’t touch me.” 

Hurt flashed on his face at your words. At you rejecting to even be near him. The one person that had always stuck by him through everything and forgave him even with how often he fucked up. The one that gave him an unconditional love he wasn’t used to. Part of him new he deserved it, for hurting you even if it was an accident. But the ache he felt when he couldn’t even help you, ask for your forgiveness because you didn’t want to hear it right then, was strong. 

Your voice wavered and broke but your eyes showed very clearly how much you meant those words. He wasn’t sure what was worst to see in them, the anger or the fear. 

Why were you even there? He was sure you had class on the opposite side of campus. It was why he never imagined you were the one trying to stop him. He pictured you walking peacefully from your class back home to wait for him to get back to you. Not what actually ended up happening. He would have never fought in a place you could so easily have seen, so easily have gotten hurt. Especially when he wanted to make you see how much better he was being for you, even if not by much. If you had called out to him, he hadn’t even heard you.

Michael felt a pit at his stomach. Could already hear you breaking up with him, because a girl like you didn’t deserve to be on the ground, looking so pretty and innocent and have that ruined because her boyfriend couldn’t just listen to her and try to be less violent with others. Dread filled him at the different possibilities of losing you this could bring him. None of them did he want. But still, watching you wince as you emotionally collected yourself, he had to curse himself. He wouldn’t blame you. It’s his fault.

Even at your words, he still moved forward, getting down on his knees to be on your level. When you lifted up your palms from the ground, they were tinged pink from the fall and bits and pieces of the concrete were stuck to the palms of your hands. His jaw locked at the sight, regret filling his mind.

Taking your small hands in his, slowly, he sucked in a relieved breath when you didn’t push him away like he thought you would. Instead, he wouldn’t meet your big eyes as he felt them looking at him, he couldn’t. It was so shameful to see that pure wide eyed look of yours and know he had hurt someone that wholesome and kind. 

His gaze stayed on your hands as you held them out palm up. One of his hands cupped the back of your two hands while the other he used to gently pick off the grovel. Not too fast lest they be sharp and hurt you. It was almost comical really, to see his hands, still bloody at the knuckles from the fight, being so tender only a few minutes later. 

“Does it hurt?” He asked you when he was done. When you winced as you curled your fingers in was the answer. 

You wouldn’t even look at him. Let alone acknowledge the apology begging to leave his lips. And he had to resist the urge to take you into his arms so he wouldn’t feel the coldness you were currently giving him. Tears were still running down your cheek by the time your backpack that had fallen beside you was taken up by Michael. He slung it across his shoulder easily, no matter how heavy you had found it. Then his arm was around your waist and his hand on your arm, pulling you up finally from the ground that should be kissed at your feet instead of you laying in it. 

Clearly, he wasn’t taking your command to not touch you seriously. But you didn’t make any move to enforce it - despite how angry you felt, how struck at what he had done to you, no matter that he had done it unconsciously. He needed it, to feel as if he hadn’t completely destroyed everything in the relationship he cherished so much. That the only girl he loved and respected didn’t feel terrified of him and distrust him.

He’d brought a lot of emotions out of you, particularly pleasure, but pain was never meant to be one of them.

That much was obvious in the almost shameful look on his face all the way back to your house - the place you’d forced him to take you to instead of his own home. You would’ve preferred to go home by yourself, your anger and freight not being appropriate to be next to him, let alone have him nearly piggyback carrying you all the way. But he wouldn’t leave your side. 

It was also seen in his small voice, as shaky and almost insecure as you’d ever heard it when you forced him to put you down as you finally got home. The security of your home giving you what your had been lacking the second Michael sent you to the ground, the safety you usually got from him was weak.

“I can help...” 

“No, I got it.” Your words were cold, so different from your usually light and happy voice, as you walked away from him and to your bathroom where you kept the first aid kit. It was usually there for him whenever he got in a fight and got hurt. But now, you needed it.

He flinched at your tone. Despite whatever fights he ever got in, you were the only one who could ever truly hurt him. 

Michael stayed in the living room silently while you disinfected your wounds and covered them up. He hurt you. You could still feel the pain of it, see it physically manifested. You were still crying, sniffling as quietly as you could. It didn’t hurt so much as it did scare you. Not that you were scared of him. Despite what happened, you knew it was an accident and you knew he would never hurt you purposely like that ever. 

But the fact it happened, the fact he had been so lost in his anger that he didn’t stop and think about what he was doing and his surroundings. The fact that you had felt his strength in such an ugly, dangerous way. The suddenness of it scared you. 

And you hated feeling that towards your boyfriend. You only wanted to feel happy and loved with him, nothing as negative as this. It was also frustrating, knowing you had warned him of consequences of his actions like this, though never expected you’d ever be on the receiving end of it, but he still hasn’t changed. But this was the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be in this position.

It made you almost think that your friends, the rumors, maybe they were more right about Michael and his anger than you were whenever you tried to defend him. You wanted your boyfriend to be safe. You didn’t want to believe they were right. Otherwise, you didn’t really know the man you claimed to love.

You were mad and frightened. But it came from a place of love. You didn’t want him to get hurt and you especially didn’t want it to get to this point where he couldn’t even stop himself before it got out of his control until it was too late. You loved him.

When you finished fixing yourself up as best as you could, you left the bathroom and moved quietly into your living room where Michael was sitting silently. His face was in his hands. His very posture screamed regret and you didn’t even want to imagine how dark and self-deprecating his thoughts were as he blamed himself for hurting you, you knew it was hard for him.

He’d told you so many times it was the last thing he wanted. You weren’t sure he could forgive himself. Especially when he knew his strength compared to yours, when he saw your injuries caused by his hand. 

You weren’t sure he even felt your presence when you slowly sat down next to him on the couch, the kit still in your hands. “Here, let me cover that up.”

He had bruises all over his face, particularly his jaw but he had an especially nasty cut on his forehead. 

But when you raised your hands to start working on it, Michael finally looked at you, only to move his head back and shake his head. You were too good for this world, to still worry about him after everything. 

“Don’t waste it on me.”

With you red rimmed eyes, your voice was still more serious than usual but your words were almost normal, “Don’t be silly. You’re hurt.”

Michael kept silent as you focused on his injury. But you could tell his mind was moving quickly, probably figuring out what to say to you.

You wanted him to feel bad, it wasn’t okay and he needed to feel it in order to change. But you didn’t want him to drive himself crazy with kicking himself in the back for what he accidentally did. He stopped as soon as it happened, it gave you hope of how he could change. How this could be a wake up call.

It was only when you were almost done that he spoke. “I didn’t know you were the one grabbing me. I swear I would never have hurt you, it was too late when I realized you-” his head hung in shame, “You were already on the ground when I figured out it was you.”

He was silent for a while and you thought it was him re-living the moment you had been flung so strongly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I would never hurt you like that. Ever. I promise. You’re the only good thing I have in my life. I can’t lose you and it shouldn’t have happened, I should have realized I was just so pissed off. And I thought you were in class. I never thought you’d be there. But it will never happen again.” 

“Michael…” You sighed, you’d heard that before. 

But he cut you off. “No, I’m serious. It won’t. I….I hated seeing you hurt like that. Especially because it was my fault. I know I’m violent but you’ll never experience that again. You’ll never see that again. I’ll never hurt you again so…please…I’m sorry.”

He was so rarely vulnerable with his words, let alone speaking so much. It was obvious he meant it. You took in his apology and his words. You didn’t say it was okay but you didn’t move away or reject his apology either. 

“You won’t lose me.” When his guilty eyes bore into yours, you took his bruised hand. “I know you didn’t meant to, Mikey, you’re not that type of guy and you’ve never been violent towards me. But I get so worried seeing you fight and get hurt, you didn’t even realize it was me because you were so mad. It’s seeing you in a light that I don’t like.”

His words were soft-spoken and gentle, his rough hands encasing your smaller ones almost as if they were glass, like the most precious thing he had. “I know. I’m working on it.” Both of you knew he was. If just to keep you happy. His fights are fewer and farther between but when they do happen, they’re never any less bloody. 

Michael’s eyes trailed down to your arm and your dress, marred with stripes of gravel and dirt. Your scraped knees. Your eyes puffy from crying. Even hurt you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He almost wanted to pull away, he had no right to be touching you, to still be the object of your love. Not when someone as sweet, innocent and peaceful as you was with someone as wrong as him. You deserved someone that brought only smiles out of you. Fuck. He cherished you. And he was disgusted at what he did; would always be, the memory would haunt him for a long time. 

He almost looked in pain as he forced himself to keep looking at what he had done to you. “Does it still hurt?”

You almost didn’t want to answer, for his sake but still you nodded. “I have to change clothes, too.”

“You look so pretty.” It made it worse, how much you more you deserved. “You deserve better.”

Your eyes were confident with your next words, “You’re going to give me that.” He had to. Otherwise, you didn’t think anything you imagined your future would be was going to stay the same. 

And he would. For you.

It didn’t mean he would be perfect or that his tendencies would change. You’d always catch him in fights or in some kind of trouble. But he would be in his right mind, he’d stop before he went too far. And most importantly, he’d never hurt you like he did today. It wouldn’t be hard. When you changed his life so much, he wasn’t in that state of mind he was when he was so angry and violent before he met you. 

Michael started that new resolution to change by peppering you with kisses, grateful he still could, not stopping until you began giggling and pawing at him to stop. You were still kind of mad and hesitant after all, but it was hard to fight back against his sweeter side giving you more of an apology. He was careful to ghost his fingertips over your injuries so as not to hurt you as he took you in his arms like his life depended on you being with him. 

“I love you.” His gravelly voice murmured, “So much.” You were everything to him. What he cherished the most in his life, who he would always need at his side. The last person he wanted to hurt. He was so lucky you were such a good, forgiving person that believed in him. Trusted him. Loved him.

“I know. I love you too.”

You and your love were the what that brought his happiness and goodness into his life. Without you, he would be so much worse than he seemed to be right then. You were the reason he could imagine a normal future for himself, one with a family and a home. The reason he was so much happier recently, why he hadn’t been in a fight in months before this last one. 

He’d never hurt you again. You’d only ever feel good feelings arisen by him, like it always should have been.

Your voice was almost shy but your words were very much willing to take advantage of his guilty mind. “Can we have a spa night? I think it might help my wounds.”

Michael, your big, mature, manly, would-never-have-a-spa-night boyfriend looked at you, knowing very well the healing properties a spa routine could have on your injuries was bullshit. But still he nodded. He’d do anything for you. 

Anything to make it up to you. To take away that hesitancy and sadness in your eyes, to try as he might to erase his huge mistake and replace that scary image of him and know that he was nothing like that with you. Anything to have the rest of the day bring you nothing but peace and happy memories with him, what you had always felt in your life that changed when you met your explosive boyfriend. Having you in his arms for the rest of the night, forgetting the cuts on both of your persons for the night. 

“With face masks?”

“…Fine”

You smiled sheepishly, “….And can we watch Legally Blonde?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

[yanderenightmare]

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream. 

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[spideymarvelws]

 had so much fun writing the first scene dude... i feel like as a fanfic writer its a sin i haven’t written anything like it yet lmfaoo (to be fair i probably have but I just dont rem💀) anyways i hope you enjoy!

REPOST BECAUSE OF TAGS!!!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist / Prompt List

Prompt : 9. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Warnings : just some cute floof, some cursing here and there

Word Count : 2.2k

Hesitation

Technoblade x GN!Reader

It was always peaceful in the tundra right before the sun set. Not only did the orange and red colours that reflected off the shiny snow send a wave of tranquility through the lands. It was a specific time where all the animals would go back into their homes before the mobs spawned at night fall, leaving the lands in complete silence.

Phil loved working at this time, getting small tasks done around the house that he wasn’t able to do throughout the day. Whether it was washing the dishes or dusting out the book shelves. Maybe even lounged around near the fireplace, planning out what he had to do the next day. It was always quiet, void of distractions to keep him from doing them.

But of course, with peace always came chaos.

“YOU CHEATED!”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“YES YOU DID!”

The door cracked open, slamming against the wall behind it making the blonde jump from the sudden noise. He was ready to pick up his sword by his side until he recognised the voices of his house mates, shouting like little children.

Phil sighed, continuing to wash the dishes in front of him. While the bickering tended to amuse him at times, right then he just wanted to stay in the silence. He was quick to grab a pear of earplugs from his chest, pushing them snugly into his ear, blocking out the noise you both brought into the house while humming a small tune.

“There’s no way that your horse is faster that Carl! That’s just not possible!” Techno shook his head, his entire body still except for his left foot tapping consistently on the floor, “It’s just not possible.”

“Okay-” you pointed your finger in his face, “First off, her name is Raven and secondly, you just can’t admit that she’s better than Carl.” you crossed your arms on your chest, looking up at the piglin with teasing eyes.

Tech threw his head back with a groan, turning around gruffly and taking off his cape along with the skull mask covering his face.

“I won’t admit it because it isn't true!” he turned back to face you, mimicking your stance and tilting his head slightly to the side.

You raised your eyebrows at his response, nodding slowly, “Alright, alright,” you slowly took of your cloak, bunching it up and throwing it at him, his reflexes catching it before the fabric hit his chest, “Maybe it’s just the ridder and not the horse.”

Techno gasped, “You take that back.” he threw your cloak to the side.

You hummed, looking up and faking a thinking face, “Nah... I don’t think I will, I said what I said.” you stepped closer to the hybrid, sizing up his figure, “And what are you going to do about it?”

Techno squinted his eyes, a small smirk making its way to his face before he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from the entrance into the living room.

“Hey!” You pounded at his back, wiggling in his tight grip, “Put me down you loaf!”

He laughed at your words but obliged, throwing you on the couch near the fireplace. Before you could sit up, he crawled over your form, knee besides one side of your waist with his other foot planted on the floor, keeping him steady hovering over you.

“Techno-” you chuckled nervously, trying your best not to stray away from his intense gaze, fighting the heat starting to rise to your face. Your hands pushed at his chest, weakening when he brought his face closer to yours, making you feel smaller than you already were.

He didn’t say anything, instead his fingers dug into your stomach, wiggling them across the fabric of your shirt. Your laugher filled the air, high pitched and bouncing off the walls of the cottage. You tried your best to control them, not wanting to give in to the blood god’s actions so quickly. But your hands on your stomach did nothing to stop his.

“Oh. My. God! Techno! Stop you fucking- oh god!”

“Take it back Y/n!” he laughed along with you, continuing his assault on your stomach, “Take it back or I swear to god you’re going to loose a canon life from being too ticklish.”

“NEVER!” you shouted between laugher, screaming when his hands began to move faster, knocking the breath out of your lungs. In the heat of the moment, he took your wrists into his fist, pinning them above your head, keeping your hands from interfering with his plans.

“Say. It.” even with one hand we was doing enough to keep you squirming underneath him, desperate for an escape.

“Okay! Okay! You- You’re a good rider Techno! You’re a good rider!” you finally admitted, your body falling limp against the cushions when he finally raised his fingers from your stomach.

Techno laughed at your state, leaning back with a cocky smirk on his face, “Glad to know we could come to an agreement,”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your head rolling to the side on your shoulder as you caught your breath. You closed eyes in relief that the past few minutes were over, nearly falling asleep with the amount of energy you spent laughing.

Techno chuckled, taking your chin into his fingers, turning your head to look back at him, “Is that so?”

You nodded, fluttering your eyes open to look up at the pink haired man. Your breath hitched when you noticed how close his face was to yours. His entire presence felt suddenly close, his chest puffed out with long breaths, his legs practically tangled with yours, his face hovering over you, radiating heat you didn’t notice while he was tickling you. You watched as his face lit up red, his piglin ears straightening out of the side of his head, probably taking in the proximity as well.

Techno wasn’t one to get flustered often, but when he did it was always with the people he cared about. He trusted them enough to let that blood god persona he put on fade away leaving behind his shy, nerdy side you always adored. The side of techno who would read by the fireplace with Steve sat snuggly in his lap, the Techno who would spend hours trying to fix his glasses that broke constantly in his strong grip only having to craft a new one. The Techno who would grumble about compliments from you and Phil but the subtle spread of pink across his face told everyone otherwise. The Techno you grew to love the more and more he let you it.

He began to get a lot more playful with you as you friendship grew. When you moved in with him out in the snow it only increased drastically. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the both of you to end up in this position or something similar to it (like the time he pinned you down during training), but he would always stop before things got too intimate and while it hurt, you’ve grown to accept it. You were glad to be his friend, his companion. You would take his friendship over not knowing him at all any time of the day.

You waited for him to pull back. To stand up and dust off his clothes, offering you his hand to pull you up with him and continue that night like normal. But he stayed, his dark, dull eyes staying down at you with a shine you’ve never seen up close before.

Techno didn’t know what to do either. He didn’t know what was prompted him to stay in this position, the sudden confidence that pushed him to keep his hand on your face, his lips so close to yours.  Maybe it was the voices in his head, annoyed with the constant stares and thoughts of adoration when you rode Raven around in the snow, your cape flowing beautifully behind you, face showing nothing but pure joy. They were relentless, calling him out on every emotion he was feeling because of you.

He wanted to move for your sake, he was the one on top of you in the first place, pinning you down. You were probably being polite not shoving him off of you, even if you’ve never done it before, he just always pulled away before you could. But he couldn’t, his muscles stiff and unable to move.

A small part of his brain told him you wanted this too, but he ignored it for his own sanity.

“Techno-” you whispered but before you could continue, the hybrid immediately took the single word as a protest, finally letting go of your hands but keeping his body close.

“Shit I’m sorry that- that was probably a bit much.”

You giggled softly, “No- uh, it was fine tech, no worries,”

He looked down at your bright smile glowing in his face.

“You’re really beautiful Y/n,” he whispered, letting the rough pads of his fingers trail down the side of your face, blushing when you nudged them with your cheek, accepting the comfort.

“You think so?” you whispered back, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“I-” he started, his breath hot against the tip of your nose as he glanced down to your lips, quickly looking back into your eyes. Why weren’t you moving? Why weren’t you cringing, laughing at the thought of ever kissing him?

“You- Do you want this.” you whispered, letting his thumb pull down at your bottom lip, watching as the plush skin softly bounced back.

He nodded, shivering when you tangled your fingers into his pick curls, pulling his face down and nudging your nose against his. He closed his eyes, a small, cute snort coming from the back of his throat at the affection.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“FUCK!”

You jumped at the sudden curse, Techno falling off of you and on to the floor besides the couch. Before you could process what just happened, the curse sounded again followed by a crash, both of your senses on high alert when you realised it was Phil’s voice coming from the kitchen. You rushed to grab your weapons from nearby, quickly pulling yourself together on the fact that your friend was in trouble.

You both ran as fast as you could, Techno in front of you with his sword drawn while you were behind loading your cross bow with an arrow. He barged into the kitchen, holding his blade in the air, ready to attack but all he was met with was a pair of wings slapping him in the face.

You dove under the large feathers, bumping the winged man to alert him of your presence.

“Oh... hey guys!” He smiled, taking out something from his ears and resting them on the kitchen counter. He sent a pointed look to the weapons in your hands, crossing his arms over his chest in confusion, “Why the weapons?”

“Are you alright?” Techno said, rubbing his nose from the hit.

“We heard you scream, thought you were in trouble.”

Phil chuckled nervously, “Sorry, my bad,” he turned around to face the both of you, “I just dropped a plate.”

You and Techno let out an audible sigh, dropping your weapons to the floor with a clank. You didn’t know how many times your heart could deal with the sudden bursts of adrenaline. Walking up to Techno, you took his hand away from his face, inspecting the soft red mark across his face from the whip of feathers. No matter how small the attack, you always made sure to check up on him, even when he didn’t need it.

But with your delicate touch came memories of the events that just happened

“Were- were you here the entire time?” Techno said hesitantly, looking up at his father with worried eyes. You took in his words, immediately pulling away from the hybrid, ignoring his small noise of protest.

“Yes, but i put in some ear plugs,” he pointed to them on the counter.

“Oh!” you piped in, “That’s- That’s good.”

“Was there something I missed?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the both of you curiously.

“Nothing!” You both shouted at the same time, chuckling nervously.

“Okay?” Phil dragged out, pointing back to the sink, “Well, I’ll just-”

“Yeah! You- uh, get to that phil,” you began walking backwards, bounced into the edge of the counter. You played off the pain with a quick thumbs up and walking quickly out of the kitchen, mumbling curses under your breath.

“Are they alright mate?” Phil asked his son who seemed to be lost in his own world, staring at the spot you were once in, “Techno?”

“I- what?” He shook his head, “Uh, yeah- they’re,” he let out a small sigh, letting  his hand pass over his face, “Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Are you alright?”

Techno didn’t respond for a while, stuck in his own thought. Phil turned to his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Tech?”

“I think-” He let out a shaky breath, “I think I love them.”

...

IM SORRY FOR ENDING IT SO SUDDENLY

it was just getting to long and i didn’t want to loose motivation writing more😭

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