#so having hurt no comfort AND dead dove would not only break hearts but also leave readers traumatized

[the-spacetronaut]

me fighting myself from adding "hurt no comfort" and "dead dove: do not eat" onto ms. janitor because it already has the "major character death" tag on it

[kiiwiigii]

Abandoned

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Going to Italy over spring break was not what you had in mind, but Bella said she needed you. Until she didn't anymore, leaving you in the hands of a handsome vampire, who happens to be your mate.

Warnings:

Angst

Bella and the Cullens suck. (Ha ha. I'm so funny.)

Word Count: 1500+

Requested?: Yes!

heya thanks for answering my earlier ask about requests! Could I please request a demetri x reader angsty with fluff where they meet in new moon as reader tags along with bella to help and demtri is drawn to her cause theyre mates and volturi agree to let bella go and be turned later if the reader stays and reader is hurt that edward, bella and even alice agree to it so quickly so she feels abandoned and demetri works to earn her trust and comforts her about it at a later date? (If its too much or you end up tweaking it thats okay!!) <3

A/N: What kind of Volturi fic writer would I didn't do this trope? And for once it's not Alec-centric. I love it! Also, this is gonna be a two-parter.

I hated flying with a burning passion. But Bella insisted that I go with her for emotional support. I almost snapped at her to take Jacob instead. Emotional support animals were free after all. She just needed the paperwork.

Unfortunately, I don't think a big-ass werewolf-slash-shapeshifter would go over well if they were to accidentally transform. Bella was lucky that I even had a passport. In the end, it was Alice who convinced me, definitely playing the loyalty card pretty heavily. If only I had known that loyalty was not extended to me.

Italy was beautiful, but between the sweet relief of landing, Alice stealing a car, and getting caught up in the whirlwind that was the St. Marcus festival, I had barely any time to take it all in. The city was awash with hundreds of people, their red cloaks swirling about as they danced and celebrated.

Bella was diving out the car, screaming Edward's name. I dove into the crowds to follow her, making my way through the throngs of red cloaks to find her. It didn't take long before I was hopelessly lost. What had Alice said? Edward was going to reveal himself. What exactly would happen if he did? That was one thing I had never managed to get out of Bella.

Would he just… spontaneously combust?

No. That made no sense, he never would have come to the Volturi for death if that happened.

But where was the best place to do it?

I looked around desperately before my eyes landed on the clock tower in the center of the square. There. That was the prefect place. I pushed through the crowds, yelling Bella's name at the top of my lungs.

Demetri

"BELLA!"

He turned at the sound, and his dead heart seemed to beat for just a moment. Her voice sounded like heaven. Demetri scanned the square, eyes searching, desperate with hope that maybe, just maybe, she might be who he thought she was.

"Bella!'

It was closer this time, and through a break in the crowds he saw her. Time seemed to slow down as he took in the sight of her. She was by the clock tower, her chest rising and falling with the effort to breathe, as if she had just run a long distance. And given the beads of sweat along her brow and the trickles that dripped down her tantalizing neck, she had.

She was stunning. Beautiful. And more than everything that he had ever hoped for.

The other girl in front of him, Bella, turned around in both alarm and relief.

"Bella," Edward said softly. "Relax. He won't harm her."

"Demetri?" Felix asked, voice heavy with confusion.

"Stay with our… guests, Felix."

Demetri was next to the girl in the blink of an eye, stepping into her line of sight a moment later. She jerked back in alarm before making eye contact with him. And it happened. His whole world seemed to turn upside down. He grinned. She was his.

"Hello, principessa." He lifted her warm hands to his cold lips, enjoying the subtle taste of her skin. "I am Demetri. I will escort you to your friends. If you will follow me."

She raised a disbelieving brow at him, taking him in before landing on his eyes. She gulped a little and nodded her head. He held out his arm for her to take, and after a moments hesitation, she did so.

Upon arriving at the alleyway in which the others stood, his mate let go and hugged Bella tightly.

"You're alright." She breathed, her perfect voice hushed.

"I'm alright, Y/N."

"Good to have you back." It was Jane. "Aro has been wondering what has been taking so long. Let us continue."

He put a hand on his mates back, urging her forward silently.

Demetri found that he no longer cared what would happen with Cullen and his human, not so long as his mate stayed.

I was a moron.

Despite the seriously fucked up and dangerous situation that Bella had somehow pulled me into, I couldn’t help but blush as I felt this stranger's hand on my lower back.

'Demetri. His name is Demetri, Y/N.'

The gesture felt oddly warm and comforting. He felt oddly warm and comforting.

And I liked it. But also I didn't like it. He was making me feel all funny and I honestly didn't know what to do about it.

I glanced back at him, only to find him already looking at me, something akin to wonder in his eyes. He gave me a small smile and I turned back around, blushing harder. I liked that smile. A lot. I shook my head, following behind Edward and Bella, doing my best to not trip.

I had bigger things to worry about. Such as getting out of this situation alive. Alice had neglected to tell me much of anything, and I had only caught snippets of her conversation with Bella on the plane. All I knew was that the Volturi laid down the law, and they were not to be fucked with. I suddenly wished I had paid more attention instead of worrying about the death trap that was called a plane.

I grabbed Alice's hand, my anxiety spiking. She gave my hand a small squeeze, sending me another smile. But something was off. She wouldn't look me in the eye. In fact I couldn't recall her looking me in the eye since we had boarded the plane to Italy. And outside of his initial surprise to see me, neither had Edward. I frowned at the sudden realization, slowing down a moment and pulling my hand from hers. Demetri slowed down as well, gently pressing on my back for me to continue, but I stayed rooted in the spot.

"What are you hiding?" My voice cracked. "What did you see?"

Alice looked back at me, surprised.

"Now is not the time, Y/N." Demetri's lips brushed against my ear.

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Indeed." Jane turned around, her face blank.

Demetri tensed, angling himself so that I was out of Jane's eyesight.

"Do not worry, Demetri. I have no intent to harm your mate... As long as she keeps up."

She was so blasé about the whole thing that it took a minute for me to register what she said. Mate? I had a mate? Mates were a thing?

Demetri hissed at her and everyone edged away from the two of them, looking at Demetri as if he were a dead man. Jane just smiled.

"Let us continue. Demetri, do keep your human in line."

I wondered if my brain had just stopped working at that point because I would have normally said something back, but I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything. Demetri turned back around, looking at me as one would a spooked animal. And I was pretty close to a spooked animal. I was starting to hyperventilate, and I definitely wanted to run, but I couldn't get my legs to work.

"Y/N." He reached out, clasping both of my arms lightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way, but we really must keep going."

I nodded, numb. Alice knew. How long had she known? And Edward hadn't bothered to say a damn thing to me either. Why? They couldn't bother to prepare me for this? I have a fucking mate. That's not something you can just shove under the rug. And Jane. Fucking Jane-

Demetri's hand slid into my own, the coolness of his skin breaking me out of my haze just enough to keep moving forward. I could feel myself beginning to shut down and disassociate, auto-pilot taking over. I could feel his thumb rubbing circles softly on the palm of my hand and decided to focus on that instead.

Jane pushed the heavy double doors in front of us open.

My brain refused to shut off, memories of the last 24 hours replaying repeatedly in my head.

Bella had been released under two conditions:

She was to be turned within the year.

I was to stay here, to be with my mate.

I didn't have a choice, not that it really mattered, because I would have given myself up in a heartbeat for Bella. But they had taken the deal with barely a thought. Even Bella. That's when I realized that she knew. She had known the whole time. And Alice. I kept thinking about how she had worked so hard to convince me to come. To be Bella's emotional support. I wasn't there to be her emotional support. I was there to be traded, like some dog. And it hurt.

I had lost everything.

My friends. My home. My family.

I would never see my mother again. My father had passed a little over a year ago to cancer, so my mother and I were already in the practice of mourning. But my mom, not only had she lost my dad, but now she would think I was dead too. How would she cope?

How was I going to cope? How could I ever trust anyone again? Bella and the Cullens had taken advantage of me. Of my love. My loyalty.

I wouldn't let it happen again. Never.

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Taglist: @alecvolturi @lack-lust-3r @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal

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[thewhumpcaretaker]

HENLLOO ✨️💖

I have this idea for some time, and it's something I wanna write one day, BUT I think you'd really like this idea bc it's hurt/comfort and Santino at the beach! I'm curious about your thoughts or if it's inspiring yk 👀

Santino having a wound, that's not fully healed, or not healed at all and he wants to go to the sea to feel that salt kinda "bite" his wound, he wants to feel that pain because he thinks he deserves it or whatever other reason.

John tried to talk him out of it just because he knew it would hurt, but then again, sea water could help the wound heal faster. So, John insists for Santino's own safety that he goes with him. And eventually Santino agrees. Of course it hurt and burned, it's salt on the wound and Santino maybe thought it would be easier but it hurt a lot.

Santino wants to make himself suffer even more 😞

AAAAAAAA this one cut DEEP for me!! Your asks are so good lately (well, always, but especially this one). It's so dark but honestly this is a topic that I love to write about and I think it says a lot about Santino and what he's going through. What a brutal scenario, Santino is really suffering. But John is there to make sure he's safe and build up his self-esteem, as always.

Also, as a note: the ocean is not recommended as a source of salt water to put on a wound even if it does help sometimes, because there's bacteria in the ocean! So don't try this at home.

🖤💙Salt in the Wound💙🖤

TW: self harm via salt water, attempted self harm via breaking and punching things, blaming himself for abuse, concerns over potential suicidal behavior (there is none actually attempted), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I am not leaving you alone like this!”

The bedroom was wrecked in every way that wouldn’t be permanent. Pillows and blankets thrown around the room, the desk overturned, even the curtains torn down. John had stepped in to stop Santino from tearing up his own poetry, but he’d let him flip the chair and splinter its legs against the floor. And why was all of this happening? Because Santino had been punished by a High Table emissary. The Adjudicator and company had approached them in the middle of the Continental lobby, informed Santino that he had broken some inscrutable rule John didn’t even know about, and then slashed him across the gut in front of the whole room of people.

After the wound was patched up he had just sort of…gone quiet. It was obvious he blamed himself. He brooded all the rest of the day, until finally John pressed him about what was wrong and he exploded.

“Fuck off, John! Get your hands off of me!” He had Santino’s arms pinned behind his back so he wouldn’t punch the walls. Reluctantly, he let go, and just as he’d expected, Santino lunged towards the wall. John was too fast and put himself in front of Santino’s fist before he could make contact. Santino stopped short, flushing even harder at the frustration of having to restrain himself in that state.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Santino stared at him for a long moment, his jaw set hatefully. Then he turned to walk out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Through clenched teeth, “The beach.”

Their home was only a short walk from the ocean, and in this mood, Santino could make it there in five minutes. Horrifying scenarios flashed through John’s mind, of Santino walking out into the ocean and never coming back. His heart did a sickening sort of drop. “Why?”

Santino whirled back to him with his chin in the air, the picture of passive aggression and mock innocence. “Salt water is good for healing wounds. You want me to take care of myself so badly? Fine. Maybe I want to go for a swim.”

“That will burn like hell.”

“GOOD. But it’s healthy, so you can’t stop me.”

John practically growled in frustration. He couldn’t argue with that. He just grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not invited.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Santino’s scowl softened for a fraction of a second, replaced by something miserable and touched. But then he just growled back, grabbed his swim trunks, and marched out the door without another word.

They were silent on the walk to the beach, with the sun sinking down against the waves in reds and oranges as fiery as Santino’s expression. John began to hope that he’d cool down by the time they got there, but he had no such luck. Santino stripped down immediately and threw his clothes in John’s face. He would have laughed at the pettiness of it if he didn’t know how much pain was raging inside of Santino right now. So he just caught them and folded them neatly over his arm so they wouldn’t get covered with sand. Then he crossed his arms and watched from the edge of the water.

With his shirt off, and then his dressing thrown to the ground as well, John could see the red blooming across the slash on Santino’s side. The wound wasn’t deep at all, but it looked awful. It was long – an arc from the top of his ribcage on the right side to below the navel on the left. And it was still bleeding.

Santino took a first step into the water and already flinched. The evening wind was picking up and it was ice cold. “Maybe you should do this tomorrow,” John suggested. “Like noon? When it’s warmer?”

The very idea of sparing himself any pain seemed to just make Santino even more furious. He only turned back long enough to glare at John and then suddenly dashed forward, until the waves were up to his stomach.

Based on the sound he made, it couldn’t have felt good. It was a kind of yelping scream that he bit off with a long stream of swearing in Italian. John frowned hard. He knew what that felt like – he’d been in the ocean after a job before, by necessity, and it stung something awful. But all he could do was watch helplessly. At least Santino was standing still now, and seemed to be reconsidering. He even took a few steps back until the cut was mostly above the water line again.

But irritation with his own weakness seemed to give him a second wind. He plunged back in, up to his chest this time, and screamed again. This time, John couldn’t tell if it was pain or frustration or self-hatred, because it gave out into sobbing. He was crying so badly that John was worried he was going to double over into the waves. “That’s enough. I’m coming out.” He kicked off his shoes and trousers, set down their things, and waded into the frigid water.

He wasn’t sure if Santino heard him or not, because he didn’t move at all until John’s arms were around him.

“Come on, love. Let’s go back to shore, yeah?”

“No. I-I deserve this.” Santino didn’t hug him back. He just stood there shivering terribly.

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up! They had to punish me. And I’m so angry, John. I’m so angry, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even be angry at them. I just have to play nice because I’m powerless and it’s all my fault.”

“No you don’t. You’re allowed to hate them. You don’t have to hate yourself.” He realized they weren’t just talking about The Adjudicator, but about everyone who had hurt Santino. Especially those who he didn’t couldn’t bring himself to hate. His own father. The water swirling around their bodies was deathly cold and John felt himself starting to shake too, but he ignored it and held Santino as close as he could.

For a second, Santino cried harder against him, but it seemed to bring some kind of cathartic release. Finally, he went calm and hugged John back. He seemed drained. “Okay. This hurts too fucking much anyway. Cazzo, I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” His heart was still racing against John’s chest, probably from sheer pain.

“Yeah…I’m not surprised. Let’s go get the salt out, I brought stuff to take care of it so it doesn't hurt as much on the walk home.”

So Santino allowed himself to be led back to shore. John wrapped him in a towel and poured a fresh water bottle over the cut to rinse it. That stung too, and he was already back to whining about the pain, but John didn’t mind. As long as Santino didn’t want to make himself suffer. He kissed him hard. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He melted into the kiss and stayed curled up against his lover, trying to regain some body heat, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“You didn’t, Santino. They did this to you because they’re on a power trip. Because the whole organization runs by making people feel trapped and small, and it pisses me off.”

His answer was slow and very quiet. “Honestly…I don’t want that to be true. If that’s true, then I have to do something about it.”

“Yeah.” John wove his fingers through Santino’s curls and studied his face. He was so precious, so fierce, so full of life. A world in which a person like Santino could be hurt over and over again until he wanted to hurt himself too wasn’t one that John could stand for. “We have to do something about it.”

[infinite-orangepeel]

XYZ from the writing asks, plus a bonus question- how did you start writing ftm!Steve and any particular thoughts on that topic? I love your writing so much, especially how you write ftm!Steve <3

omg this is so kind, thank you so much ❣️i’m more than happy to answer those questions and talk a little bit about writing trans masc steve !! again, i so appreciate your support :)

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

if you’ve read my writing, you likely have a good idea of who it is lol. but for anyone who hasn’t, it’s 100000% steve harrington.

i adore him, he is my angel, he is the loml, he is everything to me, and yet, giving him the whumpiest/most tragic/tear-jerking plot lines brings me deep satisfaction as a writer (but only if it ends in a happy ending for him which i always ensure bc i refuse to curse him with permanent suffering—not on my watch haha).

Y: A character you want to protect.

strangely, also steve harrington.

i just want to wrap him up tight, make him some tea, and put him on some anxiety meds (likely bc i project onto his character like no other). however, i also want to protect eddie, the party, robin, nance, and the rest of the crew. i don’t want any of them to hurt !

Z: Major character death—do you ever write/read it ? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate ?

i feel like i can handle a lot, as a reader. i will gladly read the angstiest/saddest/occasionally even dead dove steddie fics. i will blink past gore and tragedy and devastating back story. BUT i draw the line at major character death/angst no happy ending. my tender little heart needs the characters to end up okay. unless it’s major character death after they’ve lived a long, very satisfying life. then, okay i can probably handle it hahaha. and as a writer, i’m no different ! i have yet to venture into killing off a major character bc it would break my heart to do so (though i’d never say never). and as far as one i could never tolerate, probably steve !

as for trans masc steve and how i began writing him—i’ve always really liked the idea of a steve who’s already pretty established in his queer identity/knows what he wants by the time he and eddie collide. as much as i love fics that include eddie being steve’s bi/gay-awakening (and have written them, myself), i find it even more interesting (as a writer) to explore steve as a queer/trans masc character who can deeply connect with eddie on the experience of navigating queer identity in such a closed-minded small-town. a steve who has already been navigating those waters by himself for quite some time and finally gets to take comfort in being vulnerable/open with eddie about his lived experiences just makes my heart very happy. i also think it adds a certain depth to their relationship and i imagine it obviously would’ve been quite challenging to find that sense of community in a place like hawkins.

hope that answers your questions and please, feel free to message me with any others that come to mind :) always happy to share about where my inspiration comes from for my characters !

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 4: Breach

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Angst; Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse; Betrayal; Lies; F!Reader’s Age Kind of Finalized; Specific Reference to Age; Blackmail; Crying; Slight Panic Attack; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: Even the truth can’t set you free.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Notes: And we’re back to pain. My outline got derailed for this chapter so bear with me, sometimes revelations need to be hammered in. No smut here for now but I also needed to get this arc finished so I can start on the next.

Also I know I keep jumping forward — I swear I will write about their relationship growing.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The air is…

Shifted.

Shifted enough that the whole office notices, avoids yours, avoids the glare Steve Rogers fires at them the moment they approach the door, avoids your eye. Shifted enough that you miss the before, the pressure of his presence demanding your attention, the smugness in his endless eyes you denied looking at.

Shifted.

Counsel.

What?

We need to talk.

Is that not what you’ve been avoiding doing all morning, Captain?

You swear you can hear his molar crack in the dead silence, but your eyes never flit upwards from the contract you’re poring through, red pen in hand.

Focus.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it, the presence of him, the pressure of him. It’s a job, and he calls on you to do your duty and you do but no one has ever asked you to be kind and no one has ever asked you to smile as you bear it so you don’t.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it.

You. Are a part of it.

Counsel.

It’s a bark, an order, an annoyance and you shouldn’t let his stubborn fury be the thing that derails you. This is your domain. Your palace of glass and steel, remember? New York buzzes behind you and you surge forward on the tightrope of his affections, teetering dangerously close to his temper and always, always daring him to pull you down.

Try it again.

Fine, with a sigh and a setting down of your papers, You’re closer to the door.

And in your defense, he is, seated on your couch as stiff as a board, scrolling through his phone on occasion and — previously, at least — deftly ignoring your inquiries about the status of his office and why he needs to spend his morning in yours.

He fixes you with a look you do not name and proceeds to stand anyways. The door clicks shut and stays that way — both of you have learned.

Do you still talk to him?

Excuse me?

The Senator. Are. You. Still. In. Contact.

He spreads out every word like an accusation and every word turns you a little colder. You’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding him, distracted by work, the both of you but now you are back in each other’s orbits and this…

This cannot be avoided.

I haven’t spoken to him beyond to tell him I returned home safe that night.

Not. For lack of wanting.

If he’s hurt you, just say the words.

There’s nothing you can say.

It’s been a week. Almost two.

He’s been kind, stayed away, kept his distance but that… that will not last. Only as long as whatever conference has his office busy and then you know what comes next and then you know what comes after.

The bruising may have faded but the memories remain, after all.

They always do.

Steve Rogers is not Andy Barber, is not warm-eyed concern or a soft-voiced invitation, is not trying to save you from the horrors you cannot name, is not to be trusted but Andy Barber is also not Steve Rogers, is not exactly the man you expect, is not the answer to your dilemma, is not the devil you know and you…

Are still testing your wings.

Get up.

Get up and walk away from the prison of your desk, see how far you can get before you shackle yourself to your own ambition. Get. Up.

Blue eyes watch you like he’s calculating the next angle of his attack and technically you know that’s exactly the case but let’s pretend a moment he doesn’t have his claws out and you aren’t trapped in a cage for him to batter.

Delude yourself into the power you think you have, and keep him there, across the room where he cannot show you how effortlessly he strips you of it and how deeply you enjoy it.

Don’t.

You may be in bed with the mob but you are not asleep to his crimes and this is just an interim, a plan, a moment.

You stood me up, Counsel. After we made our deal.

It was a week ago and you ever-so-kindly taught me my lesson — don’t wince as you speak, don’t let him know you remember, don’t let him think you actually learned from his hand, hard against your body.

He hasn’t since, after all.

He says your name.

He says your name and your blood runs cold and you freeze by the coffee machine you keep in your office and you turn. Senator Barber is a friend.

A dangerous friend. I won’t even ask if you know his stance on —

On the Syndicate? Oh I know. I know who he shakes hands with.

Then you know why I’m asking.

Are you loyal?

Are you?

Is it loyalty that keeps you here?

Don’t let your hands shake when you look at him. Don’t let him see the slide of your eyes, the glance outside, the wondering how long before your window would be a portal and that tightrope would snap.

You are not a fool.

This. Is not loyalty.

I keep to my ethical duties, Captain.

You’re sleeping with your boss.

Oh that one makes you laugh, sharp and cruel and you do look at him then, fix your eyes onto him and raise an eyebrow and watch. All that power, all that smugness, wrapped up in one body and how does he contain it, do you know?

I believe the actual term is serving at your pleasure.

It’s back to the game, the dance, the ruse, the steps you take around each other, the blades he digs into your chest the reminders he gives you you are a whore you are a whore you are a whore and you lift your chin up, dare him to look at the bruises his lips leave on your skin and ask him in the silence and what will you do about it.

You could hate him. You do, technically. You hate that you could love him in the early hours of the morning, when his eyes seek you out and soften at the reminder you’re still here. You hate that his invasive presence in your office is a shield as much as it is a virus, a comfort in the silence and you hate most of all that the way he looks at you with that open desire women might normally have just dreamed was possible makes you want to return it.

You hate that he is dangerous. That he has bound you to him like this, chained you to the idea of his warmth and that there is a sick sort of safety in the binding.

You hate that he looks at you now with something like hope, with something like obsession, with something like vulnerability and you hate that it strips you of that cold armor as effortlessly as his hands strip you of your resistance.

And he could hate you too, in the whispers he leaves on your shoulders when he thinks you’re asleep. He could hate that you are soft, that you are sweet on his tongue that you…

Are his.

Could hate that he has thought of nothing else but the very theory of your betrayal and you know none of these things but his eyes are not so inscrutable as he thinks and so—

He twists the knife.

I talked to your Judge, by the way.

You did what?

You heard me. Interesting conversation.

Excuse me?

You really sold yourself to me for a lover’s spat, Counsel? I thought you were better than that — woman of the law and all.

A lover’s spat? That’s what he told you?

Just what would you call it, if not that?

He’s daring you, back to somewhere between smug and angry, as if disappointed you made him waste his time and all you can do is feel your heart sinking, feel yourself back in that place again, the decade-long sting of control over your body, the painful reminder of the girl you once were.

Where is he?

Did you think I’d clean up your dirty laundry for you? I’m not a breakup counselor, and you nee—

You left him alive!? The panic in your voice is so palpable it stops him in his tracks all over again, suspicious and surprised and you step back to reach for something — steady yourself steady yourself steady yourself you are not safe you are not safe you are not safe.

I’m not killing your ex-boyfriend without a good reas—

I was nineteen!

The world tilts, shifts, your knees are buckling, that’s tears in your eyes and you.

Are that girl again.

Too small, too scared, too naive to know better, too easy to mold and break and manipulate and you promised you’d never be her again, you promised you’d get her justice and you promised it wouldn’t be like this over and over again, promised he wouldn’t sink his fangs into you a third time.

What? He sounds smaller. Or is it faraway? You are too busy trying to stand, trying to still the shaking of your hands, the cold chill in your veins, too busy feeling your knees surrendering, too busy sliding to the floor and staring blankly into your memory.

Counsel. What. Did. You. Say. He repeats himself, and then he’s crouching before you, holding your chin in his hand and when did you start having tears on your cheeks for him to wipe away?

I was nineteen, you repeat, blank and broken, not seeing his brow furrow, not seeing the regret flash over his expression, I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.

What are you saying, sweetness? How dare he sound so soft? How dare he sound like he actually cares, when he’s the reason you’re here, on this floor, barely resisting your breakdown yet again?

You know better.

I was nineteen, a third time, I needed a job, something to give me experience, and he — he used me. That was my experience.

He’s starting to understand, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when you’re staring too far into the past, into a sneering face and cruel hands.

(I can ruin you or I can help you, Intern, so you make your choice. You need me.)

It never stops. Not after the first time — but you know that.

But you know that. That’s your knife, the one you twist into his chest and the realization sinks in heavy as an anchor, the thing he’s done.

The thing he’s done to you.

So why wait until now?

I would have waited forever.

You hid the letter. Hid it well enough even he wouldn’t have found it rifling through your things. Hid the threat in those typewritten words and the casual signature swept across the stationary, unaffected.

Men like him never face consequences. Only you, only the women they make use of, the ones they turn into commodities for their enjoyment. Who would care if you’d made it public, if you showed the world the kind of man he was — he was appointed for life, he was friends with the Governor, he was powerful and you were never going to be strong enough.

(You wouldn’t want anyone in the District Attorney’s office knowing just the sorts of things you’re willing to do to get your way. I can still help you be an exceptional lawyer, Intern.)

What are you? Ambition and drive and skill but what does it all mean when it can be reduced to plaything and pet project and whore.

I helped him get appointed. He helped me get into law school. Introduced me to… To Andy Barber, who calls you Sunshine and watches out for you and comes to New York despite having no power in the state just to see you again because he worries, because he cares.

You pay.

And sometimes that payment bounces back.

You pay and you pay and you pay and you struggle but what is the culmination of your strife is it the sight of you finally broken on the floor, is it the moment he’s been waiting for, dragged off your pedestal why couldn’t he have left well enough alone didn’t he know the horse was for your protection and not his pride?

No.

They never do.

They never do, do they, always so wrapped up in themselves and even now he kneels in front of you and wipes your tears but he has no words to say to atone for what he’s done and you know he can never.

I need you to leave.

The words come out without your control.

You know what you are. You are fury made flesh and you will not be manipulated again, not by the pressure of his hands on your face, not by the way he almost hugs you, he lied he lied he lied he lied.

Sweetness…

No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.

You could have tolerated it. You could have accepted it you could have let yourself become the prize he took, owned his defeat by defeating you, you might even have enjoyed it but no.

No.

I held up my end of the bargain.

[valentinoappreciator]

My Heart's Got teeth

So.... I wrote something Cursed(TM). Read at your own risk!!!!

Media: The Quarry (Video Game)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Travis Hackett / Laura Kearney

Warnings: EXTREMELY non-con. Drugged sex. Aphrodisiac. Breeding. Forced pregnancy (implied). Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

A/N: I do NOT think that Travis would actually do this. He's not that kind of guy, in my books or in my canon. I simply saw someone point out dark / yandere Travis, and I had a Mighty Need. You know who you are <3

If you're not cool with these elements, now's your cue to back out.

Can also be found on my AO3, TheWeirdDane, under the title 'My Heart's Got Teeth'.

“You can’t keep me in here!” she shouted, spittle and fury flying at his face. 

“I can do damn well whatever I please,” he snarled back, not missing the sliver of shock in her blue eyes. Then it was gone, and Laura Kearney banged her closed fist on the bars of the jail cell, as if that would do anything besides giving her a sore hand. 

As he had expected, she cursed, but didn’t let him see how much it hurt. She rested her hand against the bars, glaring up at him. 

He smiled. Cold and dark, like his eyes - without end and without beginning, you could lose yourself in his gaze. 

“Behave, and do as I say, and maybe I’ll let you out early for your good behavior.”

“Fuck you!”

That idea was certainly new, but not... entirely unwelcome. Travis had simply just never thought about it before. This girl - this fucking disaster - had not only disobeyed his instructions to go to the Harbinger Motel with her loud, annoying boyfriend, resulting in more werewolf shit than necessary, she had also killed his entire family. More or less single handedly. 

He grabbed his baton and knocked it against the bars, purposefully missing her fingers with only an inch or two. She didn’t move. 

“Poor aim for a sheriff,” she growled. 

Perfect. 

Travis pretended to miss again, only to smack the baton hard against her fingers when she didn’t expect him to, making her curse again. 

“That’s one point for bad behavior. And who knows what that will get you.”

Again, a sliver of cold fear flashed in her eyes, but then she had covered it up with defiance and anger. 

“You can’t do anything to me. That would be illegal, and it would be abuse of power.”

“You know what else is illegal, miss Kearney?” 

A beat of silence that she didn’t dare try to break. 

“Murder. I don’t think the sheriff will take kindly to you killing his entire family. Anyway,” he said and banged the baton loudly against every single one of the bars as he stalked towards the exit, not taking his eyes off of her for even a second, “lights out in ten. Better get comfortable.”

There wasn’t much, if anything, for Laura to do in this hell hole of jail cell. There was an uncomfortable bed, so she didn’t get much sleep, and there was an old, sad excuse for a toilet in the corner. Not very inviting. The sink was in much the same state - worn by time and usage, it had minor cracks everywhere, and the water was always freezing cold. 

A single window far above her ‘bed’ allowed for the sun and moon to illuminate the poor holding cell. It was barred up, and besides, it was high enough above that she couldn’t reach it, even if she stood on her tiptoes on the firm mattress. 

This sucked. 

She didn’t even have Max for conversation. God knows where he was. He could be a bother, and he could be dull and boring, but at least he would be better than letting the thoughts and fears fester in her head, becoming big, puss-filled wounds, with scabs that hurt to pick at. 

It was just her in here. 

She had no sense of time, and only Travis’ punctuality when it came to breakfast, lunch, and dinner helped her make sense of what time of the day it was. An actual date, though? Forget it. 

So much had happened in such a short span of time that Laura had simply lost her sense of time. She could have been in here for a week, or for a month. Technically, it couldn’t have been an entire month yet, because she hadn’t had her period yet. She loathed the thought of having her period in this hell hole. 

The way she saw it, she had two options.

One, ask Travis for menstrual products. The mere thought was mortifying. 

Two, become a free bleeder and bleed on everything in the cell. That wasn’t a super pleasant prospect, either.

Thus, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

***

Days passed by, and they were all painfully dull and similar, until one day, when Travis served her breakfast. 

He put the tray on the ground as per usual, but unlike usual, he stayed and watched her grab the tray, pulling it towards herself. 

“What are you looking at?” she huffed, poking at her food with a finger. He didn’t give her cutlery. Not even a plastic fork. It was ridiculous! 

“Stand up.”

“What for?” she asked, trying to sound bored. 

“Stand. Up. I won’t ask again.”

Not in the mood to have him use force, Laura stood up and stuck her hands through the bars so he could handcuff her, as he always did when she had to exit her cell. Why would she have to leave, though? Was it shower day already? 

His hands were strong and rough as they secured the handcuffs around her wrists. The silence was tense and charged with something, as if Travis wanted to say or do something. It made the hair on the back of Laura’s neck stand up. His eyes were intense, and she had to look away by the time the cold metal sat snug and tight on her wrists. 

“Open your mouth.”

“What for?” she repeated, this time taken by surprise. “So you can poison me?”

He smiled tightly. 

“Trust me, as much fun as it would be to feed you rat poison, I can’t. Abuse of power, remember?” 

“Fucking dirty cop,” she growled. 

“And if I was? What then? You’re all alone, no beloved boyfriend to call me names,” his eye twitched slightly, “no-one to collect evidence that you’re not making it all up. You have no-one left here, miss Kearney. It’s just you and me.”

“Don’t call me that,” she spat, anger flaring in her eyes despite a growing fear settling in her stomach. He was right, and he knew it. There really was no stopping him if he decided to murder her. He was bigger and stronger than her, and he had the upper hand. Not only was it his precinct, meaning that he knew the ins and outs of the station way better than she did, but he also had her in cuffs. 

She was, quite literally, at his mercy, and she hated it. There was nothing she hated more than not having another option, of being caged in. 

“Open,” he ordered again.

They stared into each other’s eyes, until the intensity became too much for her, and Laura reluctantly opened her mouth, fear making her heart beat a thousand times faster than usual. It made her queasy, made her breathing come faster. 

Leaning her head slightly back, she couldn’t see what he put in her mouth, under her tongue, but it was rounded and rather small. Didn’t taste of anything. Wasn’t rat poison supposed to taste like shit?

She frowned slightly.

“Close.”

With a frustrated roll of her eyes, she closed her mouth, and stared back at Travis who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. 

His lips pursed in a smile, and he looked far too smug about the situation. 

They stood like that for entirely too long before Travis removed the object. 

“Good girl.”

Laura’s stomach churned, and she instinctively kicked out at him, but only hit the bars. Then she looked down at what he had stuck in her mouth - it was a thermometer. 

“What the fuck are you doing, taking my temperature?”

He sent her a look, undid her handcuffs, and left without another word. 

The idea hadn’t left his mind since he had formed it. There were a million ways to torment Laura Kearney - he could starve her until she was delirious and willing to accept any deal he proposed. He could taunt her with - made up - news about her idiot boyfriend - surely she would want to know how he was doing. He could look at her while she showered. Maybe even comment on her. He could talk sweetly to her. 

Really, the possibilities were positively endless. 

Yet, he had found an idea that would make him very happy, and would make her very miserable. It would bring them closer together, in the way that only sweaty intimacy could. 

It was perfect. 

When Travis looked at the thermometer, he nearly threw it across the room, before he reminded himself that it could take a few days more until she was ready. It was okay. Everything was going according to plan. A few more days, and he could bring the plan to fruition. 

He continued to take her temperature every morning - making her more and more confused - until one day, her temperature was higher than normal. 

She was ready, whether she knew it or not. 

With a new spring in his steps, he prepared her lunch and walked to her cell. 

She lied on the bed, back to him, curled in on herself. Was she in pain already? 

“Rise and shine, sunshine,” he said flatly, banging on the bars with his baton. Laura shuffled a bit, groaning loudly. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“My stomach fucking hurts, asshole,” she groaned. “What the fuck did you put in my food?”

“Whatever it was, clearly not enough. Do you want lunch or not?”

“Not.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He put the tray on the ground and unlocked the cell. With one hand on his gun - there was a good chance she was faking pain again - he walked over to her. Something stirred inside him, and suddenly, he was the one with the higher-than-average temperature. 

“Stay the fuck away from me, you creep,” she snarled, twisting her neck to send him a venomous glare. 

“Careful you don’t use your entire quota of curses in one day, young lady,” he chuckled, and when he touched her shoulder, she lashed out at him. Her nails swiped at his cheek, leaving red lines, but Travis couldn’t care less. 

She was weakened and in pain - he had the upper hand. He could do whatever he wanted to and with her. 

The thought made warmth slither through his veins, and he grabbed her shoulder, turning her on her back. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, trying to appeal to her and get her to say what caused her this great agony. 

“It’s my fucking period!” she then snapped and sat up, pushing him away with a foot to his shoulder. “I’m bleeding out my fucking pussy!”

He knew she was trying to fluster him, make him feel awkward or maybe even ashamed. 

“I know what periods are. I have a niece. Well. Had.” 

“Then you also should know to leave a woman alone when she’s on her period!” 

Travis swallowed hard to avoid drooling. He almost spoiled his plan by letting his mouth run away with him, but managed to silence himself. 

“I have some painkillers. Do you want them or not?” 

It was a lie, of course, but she didn’t have to know that. It was impossible to distinguish his aphrodisiacs from pain killers, anyway. She would never be the wiser. 

She groaned and attacked him again, but it didn’t require much effort to avoid. 

He sighed loudly, dug his hand into his breast pocket, and found two pills. 

“Here. I’m trying to help you, for Christ's sake!” 

“By poisoning me? Yeah right!”

Sudden anger flared in Travis’ chest, and he couldn’t help himself when it seemed like Laura wasn’t going to comply - he grabbed her chin, forcing her mouth open and placing the two pills on her tongue, then closed her mouth. 

She tried to say something - probably more curses and filthy words - but Travis only let go when she visibly swallowed. 

“Good girl. Now, open.” 

She glared at him, but opened her mouth nonetheless, sticking out her tongue. Travis lifted it to check for the pills. No sight of them under her tongue. He looked into her mouth, checking her cheeks. No sight of them there, either. 

“Good girl.”

“What did you give me?” she asked, and for the first time since he had imprisoned her, there was fear in her voice. It made his insides warm and fuzzy. 

“Something to relieve the pain.” 

It wasn’t lying, it was... twisting the truth a bit. Just a little. Her pain would be relieved, that much was true, but she didn’t know about the side effects of getting insatiably horny and needy. And she didn’t need to - it would become apparent soon enough. That would maybe be painful in and of itself, but her period pain would be forgotten.

It made a diabolical kind of glee settle in his stomach, and he sat down next to her. She immediately put some distance between them, after having eyed the gun in his holster. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she hissed.

“Don’t worry. In a minute or two, you’ll be begging me to.” 

“What? Did you hit your massive forehead against the door frame or something?” 

His eyes twitched. Just another insult. Just another piece of verbal abuse thrown his way. He was used to that. His family hadn’t exactly been kind to him, his ma least of all. 

He was secretly grateful that she had eliminated them. However... family was important. 

Instead of answering, he simply folded his hands in his lap and looked at her, lips pursed slightly. 

Waiting. 

He knew it was wishful thinking, but it seemed like she was getting more flustered the longer his gaze lingered on her. 

“Stop looking at me like that, you creep,” she mumbled, stealing glances at him every now and again. 

“Like what?” he asked politely. 

She didn’t answer. 

Minutes passed, and he could see her skin turn more and more pink. She tugged at the front of her shirt repeatedly, as if trying to bring fresh air to her skin. Her breathing came faster. Sweat started rolling down her face. Not a lot, but enough that her skin got clammy. 

“What... what did you give me?” she asked shakily, looking at him with fear in every line of her beautiful face. Her pupils had dilated, and her cheeks were slowly turning a gorgeous shade of crimson. 

“Nothing that will last.”

“No, Travis, what did you give me?” she sounded legitimately scared, and it did nothing but fuel the fire crackling in his belly. It was also the first time she had used his first name. Admittedly, it made him throb in his pants. 

“Lay down. That will help it pass faster,” he lied, the words heavy on his tongue, and he looked hungrily at her as she obeyed him, a faint whimper ripped from her throat. He swallowed heavily again, putting a hand on her naked knee. She was wearing the same shorts and t-shirt. They could probably use a wash. 

She whimpered again as he stroked her knee and thigh. Her skin burned, but it was so soft. He was halfway tempted to crack a joke and ask her about her skincare routine, but didn’t want to ruin the mood. 

“Stop that,” she growled, but the growl was weak, and the glare she sent him was mixed with fear. She was a clever girl - she knew what he had done, and what he would do. 

“This the only way you can get laid? Drugging your victim?” she tried to bite, but her voice had grown even weaker. 

When Travis felt safe in assuming that she wouldn’t attack him again, he effortlessly moved her so that her legs hung over the edge of the bed, and her upper body rested on the uncomfortable mattress. She didn’t protest, aside from a feeble groan. 

With trembling hands, Travis pulled down her shorts and underwear. The smell of iron hit his nostrils, and he checked - there was indeed a little bit of blood in her underwear. It made his cock throb, and he let out a long, quiet moan as he pressed his palm against his erection. 

He had to wait. Just a little longer...

Her skin was so soft... he was mesmerized by the feel of it under his calloused fingers, and he spent a - perhaps - unreasonable amount of time just touching her legs and hips, until the animal within him won over common sense, won over the urge to make her feel good. This was supposed to be punishment. It wasn’t meant for her to feel good. It would simply be... beneficial to the mission. 

He stood up to pull off and step out of his pants, then slid between her legs, spreading them so that he could see her in all her glory. 

“Please, don’t do this, Travis,” she begged shakily. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have stopped him if her limbs didn’t feel like lead. 

Shame. 

He didn’t reply, but instead stroked a finger between her folds - they were slick, but not enough. He didn’t want her to hurt too much. 

Travis put his face against her pussy and began licking. Above him, Laura gasped loudly, and she writhed on the bed, enough that he eventually had to pin her down by the hips.

“Please, don’t,” she whimpered, even as she got wetter and wetter, which, in turn, made Travis’ cock throb and jerk between his thighs. 

“I don’t want this!” she tried. 

“Sure,” he grinned, fondling her clit with his tongue and making her break out into a light sob. The sound went straight to his cock, and he groaned against her, sucking lightly on the slick bud until Laura looked like she was about to reach a - very much not wanted - orgasm. 

“Can’t have you coming just yet,” he panted and pulled back. 

“Travis, please, stop! Don’t do it!”

Travis didn’t listen - he simply pushed her legs to her chest, lined up his throbbing cock with her entrance, and pushed inside. 

Her pussy was tight and wonderfully wet, and sheathing himself in her made him moan loudly, leaning his head back in pleasure. 

Then he looked down at her - her wide, fearful, gorgeous blue eyes eyes that were starting to fog over with arousal, her lips that parted so that she could whine and plead and beg, her heated skin with the beads of sweat. 

She looked delicious. Delectable, even. 

Laura cried out, and pitifully tried to push him away, but the drugs had taken a firm hold of her, rendering her weak and helpless. Her only defense was to try and appeal to Travis’ good side. 

Shame that he didn’t have one. Not right now, at least. Not when it came to her. 

“Please, this is not like you,” she whimpered, lifting her hands to try and claw at his chest. She barely left a scratch. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he rumbled, pulling out of her, only to plunge deep inside her once more, and then began fucking her in earnest. 

“I know you don’t want this,” she tried feebly. 

“Yeah? My cock begs to differ.” 

As if to punctuate his point, he thrust hard into her, making her whimper loudly and throw her head back. 

“I know you’re better than this, Travis, please!”

“Shut up, girl. You’re starting to get on my nerves,” he growled, his hands tightening on the back of her knees as he pressed her legs further towards her chest, practically bending her in half. Laura cried out and shook her head violently. She was crying. 

“Let me go, Travis, please, let me go, I won’t even tell anyone! It’ll be our little secret!”

“Damn right it will,” he growled and put a hand on her mouth to silence her.

She screamed behind his hand, but it was a weak and muffled sound that couldn’t attract the attention of anyone, not even if they were in the next room. 

He thrust ruthlessly into her, delighting himself on her sobs and whimpers. 

He had never considered himself an evil person. He had never thought he would ever do... this. But this girl - Laura Kearney - had taken his family from him just like that, without blinking an eye. She was going to pay. She was going to give him a new family. 

“You killed my family,” he snarled, inches away from her face, “so now, you’re going to make me a new one.” 

[skelanonymous]

First - Killermare

Words - 3.1k

I decided I needed more happy Killermare, even though I’ve literally written a ton of it. I should write literally anybody else next…>_>

-

Killer entered into the kitchen with a tense back, casually perusing the fridge with a wince. He’d taken a hard hit on the side during the last fight with the Stars. Probably cracked something, but nothing was falling off so he didn’t bother too much with it. His determination would hold him together.

He grabbed the carton of milk and took a swig straight from the container.

“Other people use that you know.” 

“Too bad for them.” Killer turned around to grin at Nightmare. He’d recently gotten into his Boss’s VERY good graces and no broken bones were going to keep him out of it. “Well if it isn’t small, dark, and Lovecraftian.” That got a chuckle, a rare thing to hear from Nightmare. It made his target soul ache something awful, hearing that cute sound and not being able to do anything with it, not nearly close enough to Nightmare to capitalize on the opportunity. 

“As good with words as with a knife, hmmm?” Nightmare stood in his space, touching along his arm unconsciously. Killer tried to keep his mouth in check.

“I’m also pretty good with my hands.” God damn idiot brain, hitting on his fucking god level boss. There’s fucking with people and there’s shooting out of your league. He just smiled through it. “Whatcha need Boss?”

“I’m moving a wing of the library and needed an extra pair of hands.” 

“And you knew how talented mine were, so you came right to me?” Killer slid the milk back into the refrigerator. He leaned back on his left side to keep from agitating the right, elbows on the counter, a picture of relaxation. 

“Something like that.” Nightmare laughed again. Killer held in the pleased sigh, standing up, crossing his arms behind his head very delicately.

“I’m all yours Boss. Lead the way.”

They wandered down the hall directly towards the library, Killer keeping step just behind Nightmare, letting him stare all he wanted without being caught. Those strong thick tentacles swayed around his back, framing his ass for Killer to appreciate along the lengthy hallways. He rarely went over this way unless Night summoned him here.

Nightmare already cleared small sections away, stacks of meticulously organized books littering the floor. He gestured to a pile.

“Start here and work clockwise. I’ve laid it out to make it easy enough for you to do without me babysitting your progress.” 

So began replacing them on the shelves. Killer hid the winces of pain from stooping and bending fairly well, silently moving until he hit a tiny snag. He reached up to place one on a tall shelf when he flinched into the wall.

His body hit the shelves and dislodged an avalanche onto his head. He almost moved away before one smashed into his cracked ribs.

"Son of a fucking bitch!

"Killer!" Nightmare raced over to unbury him. The tentacles made quick work of them, stacking haphazardly off of Killer’s winded form. His hands were on Killer’s forehead in an instant, checking for cracks, diligently looking over him after hearing the cry of pain. Killer groaned angrily when he was cleared off.

“Fucking Blue and his fucking blue attacks. Ugh.” Killer couldn’t sit up, pain still blossoming fresh in his chest. Night paused in looking him over.

“Were you wounded on the last mission?” His single eye penetrated his two, pinning him under it until he relented, grimacing with a gesture to his ribs he’d been carefully avoiding.

“Yeah. Stars got a good hit in on me. Was fine until the book hit it though.”

“Clearly not, considering you lost your usually impeccable balance!” Nightmare’s tentacles wrapped Killer up to get him standing without making him bend the wounded area. “Come with me. Healing magic is easiest when accompanied by intent, wrapping it will make it easier.” He grumbled and took off towards his room, Killer hobbling after to keep up. 

Walking into Night’s room changed the mood. He suddenly felt out of place, surrounded by luxurious purples tones and dark wooden furniture. Night had gestured to the bed before wandering into his private bathroom.

His bed was comfortable. Killer’s nerves ruined any enjoyment of getting into Nightmare’s room, jittery from the moment he was directed to sit on the plush comforters. Nightmare returned with a roll of bandages and an unimpressed look.

“I thought you were smart enough to know how to care for yourself.” He moved in front of him. “Take off your jacket and t-shirt.”

Thankfully Night was too focused on unraveling the bandages and gathering antiseptic to see Killer’s face go red, suddenly very aware that he was in his boss’s room, said boss’s hands about to be on him after a request to undress. He pulled them off smooth and casual, but his grin practically cracked at the edges. 

“What the hell?”

Night’s hands hovered over the cracked ribs, flinching back at the small break that Killer had dislodged from its setting.

“Yeah, it’s not great.”

“Killer!” Night growled at him. “Why didn’t you seek treatment before THIS?!” He gestured to the crumbled ends of the break from grinding against each other. “This is entirely fucking curable! It’s ridiculous you didn’t, at the very least, wrap this!” The growl travelled up his body, baring his teeth at him, tentacles cracking like whips at his back. Killer didn’t move, but his voice took on a nervous edge.

“I’m a dead man walking boss. I’ll just keep going forward until I can’t anymore.” Healing magic was taxing. All of them were terrible at it besides Nightmare, who never offered, only taking over when he was clearly needed. They never want to bother him to ask for it.

“I could’ve fixed this sooner.” Nightmare pinched the bone into place with a click. Killer gasped in pain. He wrapped it tightly, uncaring about Killer’s harsh pants while doing so.

“We only take it when you offer. None of us wanna annoy you.” Fuck, he was so falling out of Night’s good graces for this. After he worked so hard, some dumb break was gunna take him back to zero. He fisted the plush comforter. “Your time is important.”

“To whom, when you dust from accumulating injuries that I can’t see?” 

“The multiverse I guess.”

“The multiverse doesn’t give a shit about me or my time. This is all I have.” Nightmare pinched his nasal crest after finishing. “You serve me, but I cannot do this alone. Your lives are valuable to me. I thought you, especially, would know this Killer."

"Why do ya say that?"

"Because of how important you are to me." Nightmare's hands grew warm with gathering magic, mending now that everything would heal correctly. "All of you are valuable, like the supporting beams holding the castle aloft, but you are more integral. You are the center pillar. As my right hand, as long as you stand, I have faith in my ability to recover. I believed you to be my most valuable asset, but if you’re going to just let yourself turn to dust, then I’ll-”

“No!” Killer’s soul snapped into a heart shape, eyelights flickering in time to meet Night’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m not dusting on you just like that.” He grabbed Night’s warm hands away, taking them up in front of his startled cyan face.

“K-Killer?” He brought them up and kissed the phalanges as one would do to their king.

“If you’ll continue as long as I am by your side, then I’ll remain with you until I die.” Killer’s sockets went half-lidded, struck by the emotion his inverted soul let in, his silly crush amplified ten-fold by Nightmare’s faith in him. He’d never seen his boss look so confused, eye wide and frantically searching Killer’s. “What’s wrong boss?” 

“You-I’m...what’s-why all-”Killer’s hands had long since gained a mind of their own. He slid wordlessy off the bed into Night’s space, silencing him with a casual touch on the cheek, fondly caressing the bright greenish glow. 

“Shouldn’t have told me I meant so much to ya cuz I’m gunna take that to heart.” Then he swooped down to kiss him.

Killer pressed their teeth together firmly, tilting their heads to line up for deepening the kiss. He relaxed into it, holding Nightmare close while getting a taste, slowly touching and teasing Night's tongue with playful flicks. He could feel the very hesitant kiss back before they parted for air.

"Feeling shy Nightmare? Don't worry. I'm bold enough for the both of us." 

Killer laughed into the next one, leaning into it to force Night's response, groaning at the feel of the shy tongue in his own mouth. He could feel his small partner shaking in his arms when they broke apart.

"Killer…" It must've been awhile since Nightmare got with anyone to sound so needy. 

"I'm here. Wanna have some fun Nightmare?" He whispered it into Night's ear, smiling at the trembling he could still feel against his ribs, lost in the heady feeling. Night devolved to breathy pants, which Killer dove into before he felt tentacles lay solidly against his chest to push him back.

"Killer, wait, I can't-I'm not prepared for this." Night's flushed face told a different story, but he didn't fancy being killed.

"I've got lots of patience. I'll just make you feel good until you are." Killer's mouth slid down to Night’s neck, sucking on the bone to the high pitched whines, sending all his thoughts south, ecto eager to form at the slightest provocation. His haze broke under the Night's firm push out of his space. 

"Killer, stop." 

His back connected with the bed, wincing from his still (though much less so) wounded bones. The rejection stung worse.

"Sorry boss." That HURT, knowing he'd fucked up pretty royally. God, he'd forced himself on Nightmare right after he'd been given a shred of attention. He was such a fucking idiot. "I'll keep my hands to myself." His eyelights poofed decisively. He almost couldn't bear to look at him, but he needed to see Nightmare's face at least once.

Night hadn't stopped shaking. His tentacles attempted to hide him from view, face fully blushing, head still tilted away from the fresh mark Killer had left, noises leaking unfiltered from his trembling body. 

"S-s-sorry. I-I c-can't handle it-t. Too much." Killer grabbed his shirt and hoodie from where it lay beside him.

"I'll leave you be. Maybe annoy Horror or something, I don't know." Anything to not be here. Playing it off would make it easier to take, even if it meant no second chances with Night. He slid his clothes back on. "Come find me when you got the next mission lined up."

A tentacle wrapped around his ankle before he took the first step.

"Why are you leaving?" His voice was airy, light, breathless.

"I'm a dick, but not that much of one. I went too far, I'll give ya some space for a day." He shrugged, a drop of hate splashing on the floor. He'd describe his emotions as 'in shambles.'

"I don't want space. I just need a minute."

"I don't know Boss. Shouldn't rush that kind of thing." He could stomach taking advantage of people outside of this castle, but betraying the ones inside it, those who guarded his back and knew where he slept (and cared about but he'd never tell them that), it turned his mood sour. It ate at the pit of his stomach and it’d eat through him entirely if he didn’t get the fuck outta dodge.

"What thing?"

"Being assaulted, harassed, whatever you wanna call it. And being the person who forced themselves upon ya, don't think I should be here." He tugged at his ankle again, but Night hadn't relented.

"Killer, I didn't stop you because I didn't want it." He avoided Killer's eye roll.

"Uh-huh." Killer really didn't want to resort to cutting off the tentacle. It wouldn't hurt him, but it'd suck and prove he was an asshole, so he pulled harder. "Say I believed you. Then why?"

"Killer, I…" Nightmare looked like he wanted the carpet to swallow him. "I've never kissed anyone."

"...What?" He stopped struggling against his restraint. "There's no way. You're telling me, five hundred years of existing, and you hadn’t had your first kiss?"

"Yes." And Killer commited a cardinal sin without thinking.

"But Dream definit-" Is fucking Ink or Blue or Cross or all of them, he wanted to say, but Night was quicker.

"I am aware." Nightmare's glare was potent, but Killer's confusion was denser. "But he is lovable, unlike me."

"You're lovable." It slipped out in-between all the mental gymnastics. He wasn't sure he wasn't being fucked with still. "So you haven't…" How to phrase this delicately, he wondered. "...slept with anyone?"

"Killer, I haven't kissed anyone. Why the fuck would I have slept with someone?"

"You gotta know how unbelievable this is." Talking wouldn't reassure him, so Killer leaned down into Night's space again, stopping just shy of his teeth. "You're telling me that someone as fuckable as you's been ignored all this time?" Nightmare's single eye widened with the flush. Killer smoothed out his tone, dropping it low to hold him at the edge of his words. "Nice juicy peach you are, no one's tried to pluck you up? I can barely look without salivatin'." He lapped at his teeth, careful to keep his hands in safe places. He wanted to see how inexperienced Night really was without ruining his chances forever.

Nightmare's tentacles laid limp behind him, all the tremors coming from his real form, whose hands had raised to snatch at the shoulders of his hoodie, gripping tightly when he caved under the languid licks at his mouth by letting Killer in.

Patience led this one, Killer carefully taking over every inch of Night's mouth. The slower pace served to work up his partner faster. Nightmare's calmness abated, tentacles waking up to come and clutch at Killer's form, Night crawling onto him, transforming the kiss into a frenzy of desire that Killer surrendered to, as long as Night was leading the way. The tentacles touched plenty of hot spots, but he kept his own hands on innocent ground. Night's confidence could crumble under too much of a good thing.

"Take a breath, Nightlight." Night shivered against him after breaking apart, so much sensation his body was unaccustomed to. "I gotcha." Killer rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"I can see how that could escalate." Nightmare finally got out. It made him laugh. 

"Yeah. It's pretty easy to get carried away." He kissed the top of his skull before laughing again. "You give handsy a whole new meaning though."

"Sorry." The sweet little monster in his arms barely resembled his boss, hiding his face by burrowing into Killer's chest. 

"Don't be. It's pretty hot." His lewd grin made Night blush again.

"I would've thought my corruption would be the ugliest and most disgusting part of me." He punctuated it with said appendages undulating behind him.

"Boss, I just kissed the fuck outta you and I've never known you without it. Trust me, not a deterrent." Killer stroked down one to make Night's spine curl. "If you learn how to use ‘em right, they're pretty useful in the bedroom."

"Don't call me Boss when we're like this." Night whispered softly. His face caught between a glare and something soft, he was starting to come back to his senses.

"That might be too much power Nightlight." He grinned at the tiny glare. "How was your first kiss then?"

"Nice." Nightmare sighed as he sat up, unfurling all the aching limbs. The usual persona rebuilt itself. But now, Killer knew how easy the composure was to break. "I'd like to repeat it sometime."

"I'm all yours." He'd never get sick of that face if Night was willing to let him see it. They rose together from the floor, Night reestablishing the space between them.

"I'll have to talk to the others about not bringing injuries to me. Time spent on them is not time wasted." He straightened his sweater, presentable before opening the door. Killer choked the urge down to mess it up again. “The idea that you would’ve rather lost a rib than speak to me is absurd.”

"Yeah." They better not take his catch. Fuck them.

"I'm not going to kiss them Killer. The sour look is atrocious on you." Night's brow raised. Caught red handed. Killer laughed.

"Can you blame me? I know the kind of filthy degenerates who live here; I'm one of them. I don't want 'em to take a bite outta you." Subconsciously, he shook his sleeves to feel the weight of his multiple blades.

"You act as though there are many vying for my affection. People used to throw rocks at me for walking by their homes, and now they try to kill me. I'm not surrounded by suitors." He said this while walking down the hall towards the still upturned library. His strides were confident, power inherent is his manner, carried with a royal grace that Killer could only ape with minimal success. The only reason he wasn't swamped with competition was everyone had been too chickenshit to make a move. 

"Ya also thought I wasn't interested and nothing has ever been less fucking true." He pushed his luck a little further, stepping in front of Nightmare to kiss him quickly. The chaste thing was almost too much considering the shakes. "I'll just keep doing it if ya don't say anything."

“We need to reassemble the library.” He huffed through, walking by with weak knees, Killer trailing just behind. “This wasn’t an invitation to touch me at all times.”

“Only some of the time then?” 

“Shut up.” He humored the request once inside Night’s treasured library. 

Back to quietly organizing, clockwise, his talented hands flipped them onto shelves with ease now that he wasn’t hindered by aches. It was quick and effortless like it should have been the first time. He’d begun humming by the time he placed the last one, not expecting the hand on his shoulder but welcoming it as he had earlier the same day. Night silently pressed something into his palm.

“I trust I don’t need to explain.” Killer’s fingers closed over the silver key, smiling and spinning it on his pointer while leaving the now neat library. Guess his league was a lot wider than he thought. It wasn’t an invitation to his bed, but the invitation to his heart was just as good.

“Gotcha loud and clear boss. See ya soon.” 

-

They CUTE.

[dabi-drift]

Yaoyorozu, Hawks, Bakugou, Amajiki, Dabi, Mirko & Geten with a Genderfluid S/O:

If you want any characters adding here or to anything else I write, just drop me a comment or an ask!

Momo Yaoyorozu:

☿ It was hard enough for you to acknowledge your own gender- fully understanding it was a different topic - so coming out to Momo was going to be tough.

☿ Really tough.

☿ She was a lovely girl and a wonderful girlfriend.

☿ But could you really expect her to be supportive of something so complex?

☿ Your gender fluctuated a lot - sometimes you'd feel distinctly outside the binary, and sometimes you'd feel more masculine, or more feminine.

☿ You hadn't noticed this until recently; you rarely gave gender a second thought.

☿ Looking at yourself in the mirror and questioning everything that felt a little off, you'd figured that maybe you just wanted to feel special, a little different.

☿ So you researched. A lot.

☿ You had a system that no-one understood because you were still deep in the closet: a different coloured strand/extension in your hair (on one side only) that stood out but was never questioned.

☿ Red = Feminine, Purple = Non-Binary, Blue = Masculine, Green = Third Gender/Multigender.

☿ Coming out was a decision you spent countless nights debating.

☿ No-one 'deserved' to know, it was really nobody's business…but being gendered correctly 100% of the time did sound nice.

☿ Deep breaths, and positive thoughts.

☿ "I identify as…no, I am genderfluid. You, eh…you should probably know that."

☿ This sweet, precious thing was confused at first.

☿ But you explained it:

☿ "Sometimes I'll feel more masculine, more like a boy, sometimes feminine, neither or both/all genders? I'm still wrapping my head around it too, but eh…it can change a lot. Sometimes a few times a day. Um…sometimes one gender will stick for a while. That's why figuring it out can be…confusing. But it's also enlightening, uh…kinda nice, warm, y'know?"

☿ Instantly says she understands and supports you.

☿ Expect a flurry of hugs and kisses.

☿ Acts like a very proud girlfriend.

☿ Pays extra attention to your hair - never wants to get anything wrong.

☿ If she does, she'll apologise immediately and reprimand herself.

☿ Go easy on her, she'll be an utter mess.

☿ Overall, her love for you is unconditional, and she makes sure that you know she's sorry.

"You shouldn't ever have to be scared to explain who you are."

Keigo Takami/Hawks:

☿ Keigo knew something was amiss.

☿ You'd been dating for two years, and although he never pried, he couldn’t help noticing the way you'd suddenly become uncomfortable when someone addressed you, or when you stayed in one set of clothes for too long.

☿ It wasn’t always the same, and he just figured it was anxiety and general insecurities coming to the surface.

☿ So he held you closer, wrapped you in his wings and fussed over you for hours (or however long his job would allow).

☿ He didn’t have a lot of time to consult the internet.

☿ He also didn’t want to pressure you into revealing anything.

☿ But now, the topic was unavoidable.

☿ You'd broken down, crying and mumbling to yourself when you thought he couldn’t hear you.

☿ He finds you kneeling in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom.

☿ Rushes to your side in an instant.

☿ "What did the mirror do to you, dove?"

☿ Very, very worried, feathers shaking around you.

☿ Defensive birb, ready to protect you from that loathsome mirror.

☿ "I-I look so…so girly today! It's awful! My chest, and…and…I don’t have a binder, and I…"

☿ Doesn't understand, but is determined not to worsen your mood.

☿ "Hey, look at me. What are binders, and where would we get one?"

☿ He places both hands on your cheeks, and you lean into him.

☿ "They're…they flatten your chest, um…sports bras and binders…I-I've never bought one, so I don’t know…"

☿ He nods. "Do you wanna come with me to look for one?"

☿ You're perplexed - shouldn’t he be weirded out by this?

☿ He laughs, and somehow, it warms your heart. "I just want you to be happy. I'd do anything to make that happen, angel. You might need to explain all this to me, though. I'm a newbie, after all."

☿ He takes physical notes - nothing will catch this man out.

☿ If someone misgenders you, he'll correct them immediately.

☿ If someone acts ignorant or spiteful, he'll 'politely' tell them how to adjust their attitude, and how to address people outside the gender binary.

☿ I.e, respect them even if you don't have a complete grasp on their identity, and never, ever misgender or marginalise them.

"You are yourself, not how others perceive you."

Katsuki Bakugou:

☿ You decided to use pronoun badges. There were some awesome-looking designs out there, and you'd been feeling a little more confident lately. It couldn’t hurt to clue your classmates in, right? Plus, you supposed Katsuki ought to know…he was your boyfriend, after all. He'd definitely be pissed if he discovered this a few years down the line, rage about you not placing enough trust in him, and it'd be a huge mess…

☿ You'd never interrogated him on LGBTQ+ issues, so you weren't sure how he'd take your news; he wasn’t always the most accepting (Midoriya & the quirkless community being obvious testaments to that).

☿ Needless to say, instead of being confused, he was frustrated. Why was he with someone who didn’t even know their correct pronouns? He pointed it out, very matter-of-fact.

☿ When your dazzling smile suddenly dropped, he became concerned. Was he the idiot after all? Why did he upset you? What in the Nine Circles of Hell possessed him to do that?? He didn’t even say anything bad! All he mentioned was…

☿ Oh. Shit.

☿ This boy isn't accustomed to apologising, so don’t expect it to flow naturally. He’ll try, because he loves you, but he won't keep eye contact for very long and he'll recant every few seconds.

☿ This perceived insincerity only masks his guilt, though. He’ll beat himself up for years, unless you stop him. This boy has no chill. He's always the first to go off on people when they disrespect or degrade you, so he's gotta make amends in some way, right?

☿️ Honestly, if there are any pronoun badges with really cool or pretty designs, he'll buy them for you. He'll also get for himself, to prove his acceptance and solidarity. He won't ever allow you to feel alone again. He's more than okay with your identity - it changes absolutely nothing about you. If anything, it gives you a sense of completion. He's here for that, 100%.

☿️ You better believe he'll fight for your rights.

☿️ If there's any hate/intolerance directed at you, he'll explode. Quite literally.

☿️ You'll be tasked with ensuring no-one dies. Unless you want them to, of course.

☿️ They'll deserve it.

☿️ Katsuki is very perceptive, so when he gets to grips with it, he'll most likely notice every indication (however subtle) of a gender change. He'll carry spare pronoun badges around, just in case you lose yours.

☿️ Secretly, he's swimming in pride.

☿️ He's kinda like 'Yeah, that's my awesome partner! Look how cool they are, flaunting their pronouns like that, all confident and happy!'

☿️ This boy adores the ever-loving shit out of you. He hates reflecting on the day you came out, because he handled it so poorly at first. Thankfully now though, you're more secure.

"Gender doesn't matter. I'm gonna be a hero, not a hater."

Tamaki Amajiki:

☿️ (Y/n) wasn’t a dead name, but sometimes the very mention of it made your skin crawl.

☿️ It was a gift from your parents, so you wanted to keep it.

☿️ But it was a very gendered name - you couldn’t escape that.

☿️ So you decided on a few more - ones both your mind and heart adored.

☿️ The names corresponded to different gender identities, and although you weren't out just yet (though you planned to be shortly), they gave you the fluffiest feeling.

☿️ Because you hadn't come out, you didn’t bother making it easy for people - no different coloured bracelets, rings or anything to highlight your gender at the time.

☿️ In your heart, you knew who you were.

☿️ Still…everything seemed tied to the binary - official documents, school, the chatter of other students…you'd seen and heard it all.

☿️ These people didn’t accept non-conformists.

☿️ So why should Tamaki?

☿️ Sure, he was kind-hearted, heroic…amazing, but what would he do? What would he say, when you finally came out? You couldn’t remain in the closet forever.

☿️ No way that was happening! You were human too, your feelings mattered! Surely you were allowed to voice your truth…

☿️ Tamaki loved you.

☿️ He'd be accepting…right? Memorising some more names and pronouns shouldn’t be so tricky.

☿️ To minimise discomfort for both of you, you chose to explain things in his room.

☿️ He got really nervous at first - he thought you wanted to break up.

☿️ Boy was sweating profusely, coming up with all sorts of counter-arguments in his head. He really, really loved you.

☿️ "(Y-Y/n)-"

☿️ "Um, could you maybe call me (O/n) today? It's an…off-spectrum day."

☿️ Cue more confusion than Momo.

☿️ He'll ask about it in a really gentle voice - being anxious himself, he can easily pick up on other people's signs.

☿️ "Basically…my gender's fluid, so…you know how 'sex' is biological and 'gender' is a sense of identity? Well, sometimes I align with my birth sex, sometimes I don't. Today is…one of those days."

☿️ He'll hold your hand while he listens, squeezing it periodically to reassure you.

☿️ Now it's your turn to question the strength of your relationship.

☿️ This boy's love is deep, though; he cares way too much to let anything come between you.

☿️ Plus, nothing about you has actually changed.

☿️ You've just come into yourself, gained more comfort in who you are.

☿️ Tells you how proud he is.

☿️ Asks you to let him know when you sense your gender change, so he never calls you by the wrong name or pronouns.

☿️ It's They/Them today, but who knows about tomorrow? Or even an hour from now?

☿️ Finds gender-neutral compliments and nicknames, and does a ton of research.

☿️ Has an entire script in his head - if you want to come out but can't speak for yourself, Tamaki will push aside his anxiety and recite the words he's practiced a million times.

"You've finally found yourself - only change if it feels right."

Touya Todoroki/Dabi:

☿️ Your identity was really important and dear to your heart.

☿️ But that didn’t stop those you cared for tearing you apart whenever you tried to speak up.

☿️ Your family, your friends…you loved them, but they just couldn’t accept you.

☿️ So you killed them.

☿️ You went on the run, evading police and heroes alike for years.

☿️ And then, you found the League of Villains - a strange dynamic, kind of like family but much more welcoming.

☿️ Yet, your identity stayed hidden. You didn’t have the strength to harm all these people, if they rejected you.

☿️ Besides, there was more solidarity here than there ever had been with your blood relatives.

☿️ Dabi was your companion, though whether that meant closest friend or love interest, you didn’t know.

☿️ He was observant, transforming his thoughts into words regardless of how that affected people.

☿️ He pointed things out immediately.

☿️ "New bracelet?"

☿️ You paused, half-shocked, half-afraid.

☿️ You knew that he'd see through any lie you posed.

☿️ The truth would be the only thing to save you from his flames.

☿️ "That means something, doesn't it, (Y/n)?"

☿️ Step 1: put the drink down so you don't shatter it in anger.

☿️ "Yeah, um…this colour means 'masculine'. I'm a guy…now."

☿️ His face betrayed nothing.

☿️ "Like a reverse Magne?"

☿️ You wondered if that was a genuine question or an attempt at humour.

☿️ Todorokis don't understand jokes.

☿️ "No…she's a transgender woman, I'm genderfluid. I'm not confined to a single gender. It, uh…it changes."

☿️ His nod didn’t instil you with confidence.

☿️ "You out to the others yet?"

☿️ "Didn't think they'd accept me."

☿️ He made a 'Really? You're the least weird of the bunch' face.

☿️ "Ah, I'll just burn 'em if they don't."

☿️ You were too stunned to employ a comeback.

☿️ He contemplated for a while.

☿️ "So, you got any other names?"

☿️ Helps you plan how to come out to the rest of the League.

☿️ Will legitimately burn the haters.

"Found families are more accepting than the real thing."

Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko:

☿️ You bought three mugs - 'It's a Girl', 'It's a Boy' and 'It's a Mess'.

☿️ The excitement had been bubbling away inside you for weeks.

☿️ Rumi still didn’t know that you were genderfluid, but she was about to learn.

☿️ There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she'd accept you.

☿️ You hadn't told her yet because it was a big thing - lots to take in, and you needed to be completely sure of it, and of your relationship.

☿️ You weren't gonna tell just anyone.

☿️ Dating Rumi was awesome, and this was just the next stage.

☿️ It didn’t go according to plan.

☿️ Not at first.

☿️ "You're pregnant?!" Was her very concerned response.

☿️ She kept muttering about how she needed some space to think things over.

☿️ Until you dragged her back, exasperated but determined to explain yourself.

☿️ "It's in reference to myself. I wanted to let you know, in a funny way, that I'm genderfluid. There's a Girl and a Boy one, and the other is for Non-Binary."

☿️ She made a noise like she understood, but you saw the confusion.

☿️ "Today's an Enby day, but you might have a girlfriend tomorrow. Or a boyfriend. Who knows?"

☿️ In an instant, the biggest smile took control of her face, and she brought you into a crushing hug.

☿️ "So I could have a girlfriend, a boyfriend and a murder partner??"

☿️ "Eh…if you can do the jail-time, count me in."

☿️ This one won't necessarily search for information herself, but she will consult you whenever she's having a difficult time processing something.

☿️ You're like,, the expert in all things LGBTQ+, and she loves listening to you talk so passionately.

☿️ She's really glad you told her - that you trusted her with something so important.

☿️ She feels loved, and makes sure you do too.

☿️ Asks if you ever thought she'd reject you.

☿️ "Nah. We'll go strong forever, Rumi."

☿️ She's overjoyed, honestly.

"You're so brave for coming out, and if someone doesn’t like it, I'll kick their butt."

Geten/Iceman:

☿️ Geten didn’t have the faintest clue about gender identities. He accepted male and female, but without a proper education or motivation to learn anything beside his quirk, you didn’t expect him to understand. You would've held it in, if you were strong enough to deal with the constant misgendering.

☿️ If you use Neopronouns, you're especially worried. They aren't as widely welcomed as the general She/He/They. And Geten being the angry, feral gremlin he is, his temper was a major concern.

☿️ You couldn’t change for him, so if he decided to lash out or disapprove, you'd be crushed. You'd obviously have to walk out of the relationship, if he didn’t do so himself. As deeply as your love ran, you simply couldn’t put yourself through such anguish. You weren't of the soundest mind, so to be rejected by Geten…

☿️ He isn't gonna understand unless you sit him down, crack open the slideshow presentation and maybe start crying? He'll feel guilty, but he doesn't ever wanna see you in distress. He said as much, in the beginning of your relationship.

☿️ So cry. Cry your little heart out, and he'll do everything within his power to comfort you. He's not the most receptive to other people's emotions, but with you, it's different. He's always by your side, always watching over you. His hugs are a little stiff, but wrap your arms around him tightly, and he'll protect you with his life.

☿️ "So…genderfluid?"

☿️ His tone is gentle, like he's afraid to cause any more tears.

☿️ "Yeah, um…you identify with your birth sex, right? Well, I don't…not all the time. And if you could…could use those pronouns? That would mean…a lot. To me. It'd mean everything, actually…"

☿️ He's quiet for a while, still trying to make space in his brain for all this new information. It isn't something he needs to 'come around to', though. He'll be completely painful and respectful. He's bound to slip up a few times, but he'll always correct himself.

☿️ Hates seeing you cringe whenever he makes a mistake. Always vows never to let it happen again.

☿️ You're okay though - you know it's gonna take time.

☿️ Angry boi never uses your gender identity as an insult, and openly condemns (threatens) anyone who does. He'll want to prove himself - prove he's gonna love you regardless of gender, regardless of everything!

☿️ Honestly doesn't know why you were so nervous to explain this. When he said his love was unconditional, he wasn’t lying.

“There’s no way I couldn’t accept who you are.”

[sadachmesarthim]

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it. 

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis​ !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands) 

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!! 

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky. 

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up. 

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another. 

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia. 

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future. 

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting. 

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately. 

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything. 

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing. 

Steve saw it as devotion. 

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased. 

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous  - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset. 

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew. 

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service. 

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won. 

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”  

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.” 

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.” 

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt. 

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes. 

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately. 

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion. 

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage. 

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place. 

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts. 

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved. 

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time. 

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. 

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom. 

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him. 

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time. 

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour. 

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway. 

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve. 

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him. 

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact. 

Bucky knew better. 

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it. 

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people. 

Bucky was fucked. 

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home. 

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all. 

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again. 

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back. 

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear. 

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs. 

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him. 

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything. 

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help.  No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency. 

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him. 

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow. 

If he did, he'd get rewarded. 

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.  

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem. 

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one. 

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried. 

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation. 

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything. 

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him. 

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years? 

Bucky didn't know anymore. 

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all. 

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before. 

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you." 

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right? 

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random. 

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell. 

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed. 

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far. 

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise. 

They went entirely unused. 

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve. 

And breakfast now, apparently. 

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve. 

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe. 

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters. 

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit. 

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody. 

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe. 

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him. 

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking. 

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing. 

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky. 

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

[winghero-writing]

hey I just found your blog and.. WHY DIDN'T I SEE U B4 UR SO GREAT I LOVE U FOR THE 30 MIN I READ THRU EVERYTHING!!! and I was wondering since u did a Keigo x Todoroki!reader and the reader told the smaller fam about her bf I want to know how Endeavor reacts :p U don't have to do it but I'm a fucking cat and curiosity finna kill me.

Hey! In sorry in taking too long to answer the asks but in going to get them out, I promise! Also, thank you so much for the support! I hope I did justice to what you wanted!

It had been a few weeks since Y/N introduced Keigo to her siblings. She was happy with the outcome and so was Hawks. But right now, is when the real challenge starts.

She knew that her siblings would like Hawks, and even if they didn't like him that much she could use her privilege as an older sibling and get them to stay out of her love life. It was really reliving when they told her they were happy for her.

Now, her dad was something unpredictable, she can't even imagine the way he would react.

Now, her days consist of her head full of scenarios of how to break the news to her dad and how he would react.

She knows he is changing for the better. He took to heart the advice she told him and began to show interest in his children without giving up, even when Natsuo pushed him away or Shoto ignored him.

She was pulling a lot of scenarios in her head at the moment that she didn't hear the door from the apartment. She gave Hawks a spare key since she always got scared when he used the window to get in.

"Dove?" Hawks made his way from the front door to the kitchen where he found his girlfriend lost in thought.

"What are you thinking about, little birdie." He moved a chair and took a seat, he saw her jump a little, getting out of thought. He laughed a little at her reaction.

"Keigo! I didn't hear you. I'm so sorry!" She stood from her chair a little and give him a kiss. It didn't last too long but he was satisfied with it.

"So, what do you have in your head that you forgot about me?" He rested his chin on his hand, giving her his full attention.

Y/N played with her fingers a little in deep thoughts before answering him.

"It's just..." She let out a long sigh. "I already introduce you to my siblings and my mother. I have to introduce you to my father too." She looked at him and found a smug expression in his face. She knew that he would think that all this would be easy but it wouldn't be.

"Not as the Winged Hero, Hawks. As Takami Keigo, his daughter's boyfriend." She put extra emphasis on the word 'daughter'.

She would have laughed at how his expression changed and his face showed realization about how he would have to meet Enji Todoroki, not Endeavor, but the topic at hand didn't a low her to laugh.

"I..." His whole body position change after her statement, now sitting upright and tense in the kitchen chair.

"I didn't think about it in that way..."

She smiled a little, if he got this worked up about meeting her family at least it showed that he was serious.

"We'll find a way for him not to blow up." She rested her hand on top of his own, offering comfort to her now troubled boyfriend.

A few days later, the two of them agree that Y/N would call her siblings and father to have a family dinner where she would take her boyfriend. She told her siblings that Hawks would go but hid that information to her father.

Again, her head was pulling all kinds of scenarios of the possible outcome of this dinner. Sensing her distress, Hawks took her face in his hands and looked straight in her eyes

"Hey, it's not like I'll die, you know!" He laughed, trying to make the tension lighter.

She smiled at his attempts to relaxed her. She knew that he was a lot more nervous than he showed.

The two were wearing casual clothes since it wasn't anything formal. Just dinner.

They arrived a little early for Y/N to help her younger sister for dinner. Hawks helped too, Natsuo and Shoto arrived not long after the couple. The only one missing was Enji.

He had sent a message to Y/N telling her that he was on his way, also apologizing for being a little late.

"Okay, dad is on his way." Y/N save her phone in her pocket and turned to look at her two little brothers.

"Please, don't cause a fight." She took their hands, Natsuo and Shoto saw their sister pleading eyes, it made them realize how important this was for her (and Hawks) so they agree.

Smiling at the two and giving them a kiss on the cheek, she turned to Hawks next. He smiled at her.

'Looks like he is not that nervous anymore, huh.' She returned the smiled.

"Euh, get a room you two." Natsuo made a gagging noise and turned around not wanting to see the lovey-dovey interaction that the couple had. Shoto just stared at them, not finding the problem.

Hawks laugh out loud and put his arm around Y/N.

"Well, maybe after this, we will go to the room?" He asked seductively. Y/N hit his chest and got out of his one arm hug.

"Pervert." She went to talk to Shoto about the girl she helped him with but not before sending a smile at her boyfriend.

"Y/N-nee! Dad is here!" She heard Fuyumi from the door. Y/N stood up immediately and looked at Hawks.

He made his way to the door before she could stop him.

"Yo! Endeavor, how have you been?" Hawks greet the man in a simple way. He tried to make this lighter.

"What are you doing in my house bit brain?" Endeavor didn't expect to see the Number Two in his house. His mood was starting to get down (in an angry way!) seeing the blond hero in his house.

"Dad! How have you been!" Y/N stood in front of Hawks, trying to shield him. Enji's face softened a bit at seeing his older daughter greeting him but he tried not to show it. Still, Hawks notice this change in his expression.

"Good. Now, could someone tell me why is Hawks here?" He looked at everyone in the room. Natsuo and Shoto were just watching from the sidelines but their faces showed amusement at the situation. Fuyumi just watched and couldn't help but feel a little bad about her older sister.

"You see dad, I broug..."

"I didn't come here as Hawks, Endeavor." Hawks interrupted Y/N and put his arm around her waist.

"I came here as Keigo, Y/N's boyfriend."

The house was silent for a long while. The tension could be cut with a knife. Nobody dared to move either.

Endeavor glared at Hawks while the blond was smiling at him (smirking would be more accurate).

Y/N let out a sigh, at least the news was out. She got out of Hawks hold and stood in front of her dad. She smiled at him.

"We have been together for a few months now. He is a good guy. I hope you accept him soon."

And so, she went to the table to start serving the plates, her sibling followed her to help in anything they could (also, to get out of the tension between the two heroes).

"So, I have your blessing...?" Hawks was the first one to talk, he wasn't as nervous as before but seeing how Endeavor was glaring at him would scare anyone.

"You're dead bird brain." He took Hawks from his shirt and put him at his same eye level. The blond male just gave him his carefree smile.

"Wow, wow, calm down Endeavor! I really love her you know!" He looked at him in the eyes. "And I really hope that you don't mind me being with her. I promise to protect her from anything."

"She can protect herself, she is strong." Endeavor let out in a gruff tone.

Hawks laugh at this. "Yeah, I know!"

Endeavor let go of Hawks, letting him fall from his hands. The blond male was unaffected by it and started to fix his clothes.

"I can't control her." Endeavor let out after a while. "I don't have the right, but if you hurt her you're dead." And so, Endeavor made his way to were his children where waiting.

Hawks was left there stunned. That was a blessing, right? Did he approve?

He followed the same path and took a seat beside Y/N who just looked at him with a smile. She had heard them talking and for her, it was a win. At least her dad didn't kill him.

The dinner was then filled with Fuyumi attempts to make her brothers talk without success. Y/N laughed at it, thanking her brothers for staying quiet, she knew that if they talk they would start to throw insults at their father.

At the end of the night, it was a successful mission for the couple. Even when Endeavor threatened Hawks that he would beat him up the next time. Y/N just laugh and enjoy her time in family.

- Bonus -

Hawks was patrolling. He hates patrolling at night since he enjoys sleeping in Y/N's bed, cuddling her. It was a fairly peaceful night but he didn't fail to see the blue fire from an alley not too far where he was.

He made his way to the alley and was met face to face with the infamous villain, Dabi.

"Fancy seeing you here, Number two." The villain said to him. "I'm not here to fight." Dabi put his arms up in form of surrender.      "More especially, I came here to talk to you."

"What do you want Dabi." Hawks was getting pissed, he didn't want to deal with this now and fighting at this time it's a pain in the ass for him.

"I know that you associate me with the League..." Dabi hid his hands in his pockets and began walking away from him. "But you know... This is more on a personal note..." He turned a little to watch him in the eyes before going away. "You hurt her and you are dead." Dabi glared at him. It was the first time that Hawks feel scared of a villain. What did he mean by her? Before he could ask, Dabi was already out of sign.

[settersloveletters]

I just gone through a break up today and they gotten with someone after that, I was wondering if u could do nishinoya or oikawa, tsukishima? Comforting them after they gone though a break up? And sorry for bothering you, Thank you👉👈

— break-ups; scenarios

a/n: aaa i’m so sorry this is late,, but i’m more sorry to hear that dove :( they don’t deserve you and you deserve the world i hope this helps <33

also lowkey based tsukishima’s story off of hikaru and haruhi from ohshc :p

➳ request: comforting reader after they go through a breakup

➳ characters: nishinoya + oikawa + tsukishima

➳ genre: angst, fluff

➳ admin: kiri ♡

“he broke up with me.” you sobbed as you fell into nishinoya’s arms into a hug. “he didn’t even say why he just broke up with me.” you suddenly showed up to his house suddenly with no warning, but once he saw the tears in your eyes he knew that something was wrong.

as nishinoya rubbed your back to soothe you, he mentally cursed your ex-boyfriend. how dare he break up with you without giving a reason why. especially through a text.

“it’s his loss y/n,” noya pulled away from your hug, “he just let the most amazing girl in the world go.”

noya watched you carefully, fearing that anything else he would say or do would just break you. it hurt him to know that you were in so much pain. he took your hand and lead you to the park where the two of you played at often as kids. “yu, what’re we doing here?” you questioned as you wiped the tears from your puffy eyes for the umpteenth time.

“i’m here to replace your memories of that bastard with some memories of our childhood.” he smiled, as he motioned you to sit on the swing as he pushed you. “remember when you dropped your ice cream in the sand and you wouldn’t stop crying?”

you smiled fondly of the memory. “of course i do, that’s when you offered your ice cream and we became best friends.”

as noya pushed you, the two of you spoke of your favourite memories growing up as kids. as time moved forward and the sun was no longer seen in, your thoughts were completely overcome by the nostalgia you had while remembering yours and noya’s times as kids. you were incredibly glad to have someone as amazing as noya to cheer you up.

oikawa’s eyes widened at the words you spoke. “he what?” he had just finished volleyball practice when you suddenly tugged on the hem of his shirt. he turned around right when you whispered in a soft voice, “he broke up with me.”

“i’ll go grab kyotani-kun and iwa-chan and we’ll-“ he started to walk off to find your other two best friends before you tightened your grip on his shirt. “no, don’t leave me alone.”

oikawa’s gaze softened as he heard how broken you sounded. “okay,” he took your hand rubbing small circles on to comfort you. “y/n-chan you’re the most amazing girl that i’ve ever met and if that dumbass thinks otherwise then he didn’t deserve you”

you stay quiet as oikawa continues his motions on your hand. you were still in shock that your boyfriend, rather ex-boyfriend just broke up with you out of the blue. his only reasoning, “i got bored.”

as you remember his words, more tears start to come out of your eyes as your sobs get a little bit louder. “he said he got bored of me tooru. i thought he loved me” you pull your hand away from the setter to wipe more of your tears off your face. feeling something warm on your hand, you look up seeing oikawa reaching out a hand to caress your cheek.

“y/n, my sweet angel, please don’t ruin your cute face by staining it with tears. that creature doesn’t deserve your tears.” oikawa says, wiping your tears with his thumb. “why don’t we go out to that café you adore so we can take your mind off of what happened.” oikawa smiles softly at you.

you’re so thankful that you met oikawa through the volleyball club. although he was annoying with his cockiness at first he became your best friend quickly. along with kyotani and iwaizumi, these three became your knights in shining armour. nodding your head you offer oikawa a soft smile, “you know exactly what to do to cheer me up tooru.”

as the two of you walked out the school doors, you holding on to oikawa’s arm for his warmth and presence, oikawa quickly sends a text to kyotani and iwaizumi before turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket, smiling at you.

[3:45] oikawa: y/n’s boyfriend broke up with her. kyo-ken-chan i need you to beat his ass.

[3:45] kyotani: he broke up with y/n? that bastards dead

[3:46] iwaizumi: you know usually i’d be against stuff like this but if he broke y/n’s heart he doesn’t deserve to walk

you and tsukishima both walk in silence as he leads you towards his house. as he’s gripping your wrist, you use your other hand to wipe the tears coming out of your eyes. “y/n don’t waste your tears over that neanderthal.” tsukishima says, his eyes still facing forward. “but kei-“ tsukishima shoots you a look before you can finish what you’re saying.

tsukishima he was just exiting the school, when you bumped into him not noticing him. he turned towards the side that you were running from and saw your boyfriend walking in the opposite direction towards anther girl. the moment he saw your eyes and your boyfriend, tsukishima put two and two together. he let out a “tch” before grabbing your wrist and uttering a, “you’re coming to over to my house.”

reaching tsukishima’s house, the two of you walked in dropping your bags on the stairs before tsukishima brought you over to his living room. telling you to sit down on the couch, he ran up his stairs to grab some things from his room. as you were left alone, your thoughts started to consume you. you thought of how your ex-boyfriend texted you to meet him near the school’s track field. that’s where he told you that he didn’t love you anymore and that he met someone else. your heart shattered. after all those years, he was just going to throw them away?

you start to tear up once again, before you feel something warm and soft surround your body. looking at your side you see a blanket around your shoulders. then you feel something being put on your head, covering your ears. soft and calming music start to fill your head and you see tsukishima take a seat next to you before placing an arm around your shoulders so you could lean on his shoulder. he removed one of the headphones off your ear to say, “just fall asleep here, i know how tired you can get when you cry.”

he places the headphone back on your ear. you smile at his attempt at comforting you. you adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, keeping your head on his shoulder. as you listen to the soft music playing, your eyes start to close before you’re sleeping altogether.

tsukishima places his head on the palm of his hand, looking out the window. “who does that bastard think he is.” he takes a glance at your sleeping face. “he never deserved y/n in the first place. she could d do so much better than him.”

[13tinysocks]

Hello Spill Your Guts enjoyers. May I offer you a cut scene from chapter 48 of SYG where Brian and (Y/n) have sex on a motorcycle? Too bad because here it is. Context: This is right after Brian and Yn crash the car at the end of their date in but instead of being a good person Yn goes apeshit. 3291K words. 

“Yes, sugar?" A low drawl spoken right into your ear as he pressed a kiss into your neck. A chill crawling it's way up your spine. Fear gripping you, not of him but of what you could so easily become. Tensing in his hold, being basically dangled off a cliffs edge. Usually you were grossly into this sort of thing, the knowledge that he was thinking the same thing made your insides twist. He knew you too well. 

        A kiss would be nice. Accepting disgusting loving, his hands slathered in blood, right after the wave of unnatural thoughts bombarded your brain. You wanted comfort, your body practically shaking with adrenaline.

        "Put me down." Tone low and unconvincing, eyes on the raging fire below, the fire stirring in your gut, the feeling of his arms distracting you from the people burning to death below you. 

        He seemed to get it, that you were accepting the outcome, becoming like him, that you had enjoyed that just as much as he had. Taking note of the weak tremor in your voice and the way you seemed to melt into his arms.

        "Are you sure?" He jested, "It's a long way down." Arms around you teasingly loosening, your body just barley slipping before his grip tightened once more, catching you as you felt a gasp leave your lips. The fear of being dropped mixing with the dopamine that ran through your body when he kissed your neck again, a low chuckle sending vibrations through your skin. 

“Ya’know what Brian?” You snapped, reaching behind yourself and sliding your hand round til you found a semi-hard mass. “Stop playin’ games with me.” Playfully firm, you squeezed his clothed shaft. 

“Soooo,” His breath was wonderfully warm on your neck, you could feel his lips growing closer to your ear, “You don’t want me to drop you?”

“No Brian,” You deadpanned, “I don’t wanna die. I wanna fuck.” God, you sounded like an emo porn actress. 

“You’re awfully forward.” He hummed into your skin, pressing a tender kiss into you before teasinly nipping at you.

At that you quietly moaned, melting further into his back. Reciprocating by gently rubbing your hand along the tent in his jeans. He was only getting harder and your panties were only getting wetter. 

“Maybe because I want you to rail me or something. Food for thought, Bee.” 

Brian chuckled, pulling you away from the cliff's edge, insisting on carrying you all the way to his bike. You didn’t even bat an eye when you passed the still bleeding corpse. In fact your heart only raced faster. He was dangerous, you were dangerous, you were both on a high that left you disgustingly aroused. Might as well ride it out.

He set you on the bike seat and you had to admit a bit of disappointment when you could no longer paw at his pants. You expected him to kiss you but instead he bent down and started to pat your legs. Pressing the balls of his hands around your legs and knitting his brow as if he were looking for something.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” You asked, impatience heavy in your lowered tone.

Then he settled himself on the ground, warm hands guiding your thighs apart. “Oh you know,” He began, pressing a kiss onto your inner thigh, “Checking to see if you’re hurt.”

Scoffing, you barked, “You little slut. If you wanted something you could have just asked.” You tried to keep up a huffy attitude with him, to not instantly submit to his antics but he just kept on pressing his lips further and further up your thighs. Even though it was through your pants, it was electrifying, each one making your legs shake with anticipation. 

“Oh, I know.” Half-lidded hazel met with (e/c) when he lowly delivered a deliciously spine chilling message, “I just like to watch you squirm. Also, I’m a romantic.”

Without thinking about your pride or dignity or whatever the fuck, you told him, “Alright then Romeo, take my pants off if you really wanna see somethin’.”

And that he did without hesitation. Only bringing himself up to crash his lips into yours. It was a welcomed pressure that you moaned into, feeling his fingers undoing the button of your jeans while he slid his tongue over yours. The zipper was next but you hardly paid attention, head in a whirl when he teasingly bit your lip. When you gasped he throatily chuckled, getting quickly back to grinding his tongue against yours. 

Taking your pants off was an awkward effort that the both of you didn’t break the kiss for. You weren’t going to make any comments about it but the sweaty leather of the motorcycle seat was on the uncomfortable side. A gentle breeze cooled your heated skin, leaves mutedly rustled, the smell of blood and burning flesh hung heavy in the air.

It was only until your jeans were around your ankles and his hand was warmly resting between your thighs did he pull away. Breathless and blushing, Brian still found the energy to purr out a request, “You mind if I make you cum for me a couple times?”

“Holy shit, do whatever you want to me. I don’t care.” You said, shifting to press your wet panties into his hand eagerly.

“Mh-hmm.” Tongues were sliding back together by the time he’d slid the pads of his fingers over your clothed pussy. Being so worked up you readily moaned into his mouth when he torturously circled your clit with his middle finger.

Filled with need you pulled away to make a bold demand, “Get on your knees, bee boy.”

Ever the giver, his head was positioned between your thighs in a matter of seconds without argument. He wanted this as much as you did. Panties yanked down and your knees hooked over his broad shoulders in an instant. 

Brian took in the sight of your ridiculously wet and swollen pussy with his trademark lopsided grin, “Someone’s worked up. I wonder why.” 

“Gee, real mystery we got on our hands.”

He just laughed before carefully approaching your bare flesh. Keeping up eye contact as he kiss, kiss, kissed his way closer. Only a few mere inches away from where you really wanted his lips to be, he stopped. Eyes twinkling deviously before he took in some of your sensitive supple flesh and sucked. You ground yourself into nothing needily, the feeling of him licking at your inner thigh sending more waves of pure arousal to your head than you thought someone biting your thigh would.

Cheered on by your clear approval, he worked his way hardly closer, picking a new spot to suck till it bruised. 

“For fuck’s sake Brian, get to it already.” You growled, one hand gripping onto the bike handle for stability while the other found the back of his head, curling in his light hair.

The man in question cheekily grinned up at you, finally bringing himself closer to your slick warmth. He pressed a thumb into the developing bruise just to see you gasp before he flicked his tongue lightly over your clit. Being more than ready, you whined a lot louder than was cause for.

Brain didn’t need any more motivation than that. He dove right in, tongue pressing wetly into the bottom of the swollen mass. Keeping up the erotic eye contact that told you he was in charge as he dragged the muscle up and over every bump and curve.

 Stopping when you pulled on his hair and ground into his mouth. He’d stumbled across the most sensitive part of your throbbing clit. Armed with that knowledge he chuckled and started to circle just around the spot's edges. Your fingers twisted in his hair, thighs squeezing either side of his head. Back and forth, teasingly fast he passed the tip of his tongue over the area with a merciless soft pressure.

“Brian- Fuck- Harder.” You needily whined, pussy desperately throbbing. All it wanted was for him to fill you up and make you cum so hard you couldn’t think anymore. But Brian had other plans for the moment. He quirked his brows as if to tell you to fucking beg and wihtout any shame you did, “Please. I need it.”

Intrigued, he pulled himself back to ask, “Need what (Y/n)?”

“I just want you to make me cum and rail me, okay?” You breathily snapped.

Snickering, he replied, “Be patient.” He quickly lapped at the swollen tip, watching you buck your hips and contort your face into one of needy pleasure. “You’re cute.”

“No you.”

Instead of replying, he sealed his lips around your clit and gently sucked. Isolating the sensitive spot before running his slick tongue over it in overwhelmingly wonderful circles. You never thought you’d moan that loud so close to a dead body, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. As seconds passed and he mercilessly kept going, only providing more pressure and teasingly sucking harder; you started to feel all of it coming to a building tingly climax much faster than you expected.

“Brian,” You wailed, nails digging into the back of his head, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He smiled against your sensitive flesh, only zeroing in harder. Eyes closing sweetly, lapping almost desperately at your clit. The thought of how hard he must be and how much he wanted you to cum on his tongue alone made your body hotter. It only made you closer and closer til your eyes were rolling to the back of your head and your back was arching.

All at once it hit you, the sudden throbbing burst of pleasurable heat. You bucked yourself into him, riding out your pounding orgasm as much as you could. Not without screaming his name of course.

As the rolling waves of intensity started to weaken, Brian rose. You were going to thank him, crack a joke, maybe try to flip the situation around and ride him like the motorcycle he was fucking you on; But he didn’t give you a chance. Lips on yours in an instant, you willingly opened up and he slipped his slick covered tongue into your mouth. He chuckled against you, at how desperate you were to taste yourself mixed with his spit. Hands spreading your legs further so he could rock his clothed hard-on against your bare groin. A wanton moan passed your lips, jeans wonderfully grinding against your sensitive heat. You could feel how much harder he was than before.

Craving his length buried inside of you, you pulled your tingling lips away. Twitching and grinding into the coarse clothing, his fingers had slid up your shirt, under your bra, teasingly rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer. God, that lopsided smirk he had on his face made you want to ride him for hours.

You pawed at his erection, stroking along his long shaft, feeling a developing spot of wetness at his swollen head even through boxers and denim. 

“Fuck me, right now.” You lowly purred, fingers crawling to the button.

“You don’t think I was already planning on it?” He snarked, forehead sweetly pressed against your own.

“Don’t be an ass.” Button open, now for the fly.

“Since when am I not?”

You snorted out a double entendre,  “Yeah, you suck but like in a good way.”

“I love you.” Wow, that got real cute out of nowhere right when you’d sent your hand into his open pants.

“Aww, I love you to, ya big sap. Anyway, nice dick.” You said, pulling it through his boxers. 

“Thanks.” 

His smirk faltered when you ran your hand along his bare shaft, what a sight to see him moan and blush. You felt tortuously empty holding his hardness, tip and upper shaft slathered in precum. 

“Aww, look at you.” The words came out domineering, teasing, “You must be so desperate to fuck me, huh Brian?” You purred, slowly and gently jerking him off. 

He huffed out a laugh, pulling his hands out of your shirt, “You really think you’re in charge here, huh?”

“Well I’m literally holding your dick so- OPE!”

Just like that you were lifted up, flipped around and bent over the bike. Stomach slapping down where you’d just been sitting, ass up for his viewing pleasure. He jammed his knee between your upper thighs, kicking them apart with ease. You playfully huffed at him but didn’t protest. In fact you settled down as comfortably as you could while he positioned himself as well.

“Look who’s holding who now.” He snickered, one hand firmly gripping your hip the other rested on the curve of your ass. Wouldn’t be sex with Brian without him being fucking annoying in a really hot and fun way. 

Wouldn’t be sex with you if you weren’t also a pain right back, “Wow real nice come ba-ACK!” It wasn’t that hard of a smack, but to your sensitive skin a slap delivered to your lower asscheek hurt more than it should have. Had to admit, it was a total turn on, the shocked scream ending on a wonton note.

“Are you alright?” He asked, obviously picking up on the trill in your voice and the way your legs were shaking.

“More than,” You purred shakily, “Do it again.”

So he did. Harder. The sound resounded in the open air. Your ass harshly stung, spot where his hand struck warmly pounding in its wake. You didn’t think you could get horniner but you found yourself mildlessly growling, “Fuck me.”

Smack. 

You whined at the intoxicating pain. Every hit having your pussy twitch with need. Brian telling you from above, “Beg.”

As much as you wanted to get railed, as hot as your face was, as painfully unfilled you were. You were still a stubborn brat when it came to instructions. ���No.”

Smack.

Fingers harshly dug into the leather seat at the hit. Surely you’d be hurting on the ride back, but you didn’t care. In fact each hit brought a sultry moan out of you. “That all you got?”

Smack.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, shaking under his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh.

“Come on honey, just ask nicely and I’ll give you exactly what you want.” Brian cooed.

For a few seconds you resisted the urge before your resolve crumbled. You couldn’t take the agonizing wait anymore. It was getting hard to tell if you were on the verge of tears from the pain or the lack of getting railed.

“Please give me your fucking cock, Brian. I need it.” 

He darkly chuckled at your desperate plea, “Good girl.”

A firm pressure pressed itself into your slick. A whine rose from your throat as he easily slid his thick length into you inch by inch. Filling you up with his satisfying hardness. 

“It’s cute how wet you are for me, Honey.” He shuddered and sighed, feeling you throb around him just at the dirty talk.

You had nothing snarky to say, mind clouded by the fact that he wasn’t pounding you yet. All you could do was press into his hips and whimper.

Smack.

A squeal ripped up from your throat, the sting nearly drawing your attention away from his shaft pulling itself halfway out of you. In an instant his hips slapped into your skin, dick buried back inside of you. Both of you letting out varying degrees of breathy moans. Then he slid himself nearly out of you. Before you could whine he slammed the entirety of his length into you. Pussy wonderfully stretching around him much to your pleasure, your fingers curling into the leather of the seat.

“Yes!” You squealed, mimicking his actions, pulling away before throwing yourself back into him. Thick fingers dug harshly into your skin, his dick slamming in and out of you at a pace that only got faster.

 Another smack was laid onto your bare skin. All you could do was roll back your eyes and incoherent babble his name, “Brian.”

Warm fingers slid around the front of your throat, squeezing and pulling you up. Back forced to arch while he mercilessly thrusted into your throbbing pussy. His sultry voice right in your ear, “What’s that?” 

“I-” His hand squeezing around your neck only reminded you how in control he was. Confident, assured, domineering. It was really hot.

“You like being at my mercy don’t you?” Even hotter.

You shuddered, feeling yourself getting closer and closer with every roll of his hips. “I’m so fucking close.” 

“Already?” Brian chuckled. Not taking any mercy on you, slamming his hardness into you faster than before. Repeatedly grinding himself against your g-spot. “Such a needy mess.”

You got the cue to tell him how pathetic you were, but you could hardly say anything other than babbling out, “Fuck, I- Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

The building sensation came to fruition as his hand slid from your hip to your clit. Zeroing it out with his pointer finger and rubbing it in quick circles. 

“Cum for me.” His command was what really sent you over the edge, body seeming to obey him without question. Twitching to a stop, pussy squeezing around him. Hot throbbing waves completely overtaking your mind. Brian slowed only a little, moaning and continuing to thrust into you. Fulling riding out the orgasm and still going after that. You weren’t complaining at all. Everything felt so much more sensitive, everytime he rammed his dick into you, you were overcome with such an overwhelming sensation it took everything in you not to cry. 

Shaking and melting into his touch, letting him rail you as long as he wanted to. Clit still being teasingly circled, sending electric shocks of bliss through your body.

Skin slapped onto skin, Brian didn’t stop for a break at all and neither did you. Doing your damndest to grind into him, feeling his length grind and roll against all your more sensitive spots. 

Upon looking over your shoulder you saw Brian, red faced and breathily sighing. Hazel met with (e/c) and he sweetly smiled before intentionally slamming himself right into your g-spot. Your vision blurred, eyes rolling back while your body tremored.

 “Fuck,” He murmured, “You feel so good.”

Brian started to slow, moans growing louder, grip on your neck getting harder. You were aware of what was coming and you didn’t care. Through your breathlessness, you pushed out a message, “Please don’t pull out. I want you.”

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby.” Brian growled, suddenly picking up his pace. Slamming his dick into you over and over at breakneck speed, mercilessly rubbing your clit.

Whimper, writhe, and whine were all you could do at this point. Body shaking and taking in everything that he was giving you. Again, the sensations built up to you being on an edge high out of your fucking mind.

 “I- I’m gonna- Brian!” No time to properly announce it because that familiar heat was back with a vengeance.

  Feeling you cum around him finally pushed him to rock his hips into you one last time. He shuddered, groaning, “(Y/n), honey, fuck.” Dick pulsating as you continued to cum around him. A sudden warmth filled your insides, filling you up even more than he already was.

Breathless and exhausted you both stood there, muscles starting to relax. It was then, in a slight wave of non-horny clarity, when you realized exactly where you were. Why your clothes were so wet and warm. Why it smelled like burned plastic and beef. You were filled with shame and cum. Worst part was that you’d probably have to ride all the way back home like that. Aw shit.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 22

[That was oddly satisfying, considering the bastard isn’t dead.]

{He screamed so nice when we cut off his hands.}

“I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” Ellie said with vicious satisfaction. “Now he can live in fear every day and learn how it feels.”

“You, my dear girl, have a mean streak,” Wade said shaking his finger at her.

She rolled her eyes. Then she looked at him and they narrowed. “Mr. Parker really likes you,” she told him.

{I told you! I TOLD you!}

[Yes, Yellow. Thank you for stating the obvious. I’d also like to point out he likes us masked.]

Yellow, hyper-enthusiastic box that he was, said nothing.

“Are you still here?” demanded a voice.

Wade focused the kid that he had, admittedly, forgotten about. “Yup. All three of us.”

The kid tensed, ready to run as she eyed him warily. He expected her to ask what he meant. She looked like she was going to.

She didn’t. “You’re the first person Mr. Parker has ever said was safe,” she told him.

[At least now we know why had so many medical supplies in the cart. He’s treating the street children.]

“True. Look, I’m kind of safe, but not really safe, so try not to approach me on your own.”

{We’d never hurt a child!}

[We’re trying to teach her something you idiot!]

Ellie watched him with narrowed eyes before taking a step back from him. “There’s this man who comes to visit sometimes,” she said. “Older guy, orange hair, expensive suit.”

[Sounds like Norman Osborn.]

“Mr. Parker told us to stay away while he’s there, because he’s dangerous.” The girl continued watching Wade. “There are these other two people, both with the same color hair, that visit that are his age.”

{Oh, that sounds like Harry and Mary Jane.}

“He said that they wouldn't mean to put us in danger, but they would, so be careful. There’s an older woman, about the same age as the man, that visits him sometimes. “He said she’s smarter than she looks, but firmly believes in the system that spat us out, so feel free to visit, but don’t talk about circumstances.”

[Wonder who that is?]

“You’re the only person he’s ever said is ‘safe.’ He didn’t even hesitate.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched over, eyes scanning their surroundings.

“You know a lot.”

Her eyes met his, but she didn’t lower her defensive posture. “I watch him,” she said. “I want to know what he wants.”

Wade scratched the side of his head. “What makes you think he wants something?” he asked, curiously.

She snorted. “Everyone wants something,” she said. “I just have to figure it out. Tell Mr. Parker I’ll be by in the morning to pick up Juby.” She stepped away and hid in the shadows around them.

{She’s good.}

[I think she’s had to be.]

Wade made his way back to Peter’s apartment as he mused over what he’d learned about the assistant. Peter worked as a lab assistant at Stark Industries. Peter was not afraid of Wade, and even seemed to find Wade comforting.

[Which is strange.]

{Yes, White, as you keep saying.}

Peter also spent time at Oscorp. Wade had shadowed the building for hours while Peter was inside, but didn’t want to break in. He didn’t want the young man to think he was being stalked, after all.

{Um—have you met us? Of course we’re stalking him! He’s not scared!}

[And we don’t want him knowing that, or he will be scared! And there won’t be any Petey-Pie cuddles if he’s scared!]

He worked at the newspaper/podcast/website that regularly trashed Spiderman—but Wade couldn't hold it against his baby boy. Clearly the boy was struggling to eat.

[Obviously, he’s doing what he can to feed the street kids.]

Wade stopped. Peter, who seemed normal enough, didn’t ignore the street kids like ninety percent of New Amsterdam. He didn’t see them as plague to be wiped out, like nine percent of New Amsterdam. He saw them as children who needed help, and he was helping.

{If you’d had a Peter, would you be different?}

Wade wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, was that Peter had a big heart. And, Peter was wearing himself thin. Also—there didn’t really seem to be anyone looking after Peter.

[I’d like to point out that we are. Looking after him.]

Wade made it back to the apartment, effortlessly picked the (surprisingly, or not so surprisingly) simple lock on Peter’s door, and saw Peter standing at the counter, staring at the still bubbling taco casserole that had clearly just come out of the oven. He turned and smiled when he saw Wade.

{I like how he smiles when he sees us. Even if he’s annoyed.}

Peter took a step towards Wade—and stumbled.

[{CATCH HIM!}]

Wade dove foreword and did just that. “You okay?” he asked as he gently ran a gloved hand over Peter’s hair.

Peter nuzzled his face into the front of Wade’s suit. “’m okay,” he mumbled.

[He’s half asleep, idiot. Put him to bed.]

Wade chuckled as he picked Peter up. “You’re exhausted,” he said fondly.

“Mmm.” Peter mumbled as Wade slipped the boy; lab assistant, caretaker of street children, and employee for the Daily Bugle as well as best photographer that Wade had ever seen; into the bed before covering him up with sheets.

“Get some sleep, Baby Boy,” Wade said fondly. “Everything else can wait until the morning.”

Before he left he put the casserole in the fridge. Couldn’t waste good food, after all.

[emrysaf]

A-Z Affection Prompts

Spike - V (Vows)

Here it is Anon! Hope you and whoever else reads it, likes it!!! Like I replied to your ask, this RAN away with me. So, it is LONG. Sorry?? - EmrysA

“Vows are powerful things," he said. "They set things in motion.”

― John C. Wright, Orphans of Chaos

You knew you weren’t the first mortal that had been wooed by a demon of the night. Whether that be by an actual demon, a vampire or any and all things in between. You knew most mortals that had been on the receiving end of said wooing were very, very dead now. You also knew the type of mortal this specific, bleach-blond vampire had claimed to love before.

And if anything, you were nothing like the infamous slayer; Buffy Summers.

William “The Bloody”, aka Spike, and yourself had been dancing around each other for years. Due to your innate ‘fight’ response when confronted with a flight or fight situation, Buffy had saved you some time ago and as luck would have it you became a part of the Scooby Gang. 

However, in high school, you had been a few grades below them all and still felt like more on an outsider in the group. This would lead you to sitting just outside the group or a step back from them on “missions” which Spike picked up on.

--“Us outsiders have to stick together,” he said one day after he yanked you by the collar of your sweater to avoid getting your face scratched off by a demon.--

There had always been a sense of comaraderie; a closeness. But you could see, despite the closeness and your budding feelings, that the undead, brain-chipped man only had eyes for the gorgeous slayer. And who wouldn’t? So, you tucked it away and told yourself it was a teenage crush.

Then there was Glory and Buffy sacrificed herself.

Eventually Willow brought her back, but she was. . . Different. This Buffy seemed to, maybe, feel the same for Spike that he had been feeling for her. 

When that song and dance demon came you were more than happy that everyone else seemed to be paired off. No chance for a song to force it’s truth out of you. But before he was officially gone, you had seen them. Together. 

You broke that little bit more. No, not break. Your heart was torn that bit more.

As an outsider, without a love or a love to recover from like Xander, you could see what was happening. Like looking inside while being locked out.

Willow was losing her grip. Things had been strained before the song and dance of truth and death. Then they reached a peak.

But eventually Tara would forgive her. You just knew that look of love, despite everything they do to hurt you; intentionally or not. Like when they sleep with someone to get over someone else, and then everyone is hurt.

Absolute shit hit the fan when Warren did the unthinkable. Attempted, and almost succeeded in killing Buffy. Murdering Tara.

The Willow you know is gone. Spike was gone. Something had happened, but no one was talking.

Then, in what felt like a snap, everyone was back. But different. And the apocalypse was nigh again. Yay.

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

Now, with his soul back, Spike was picking up your dance like nothing had happened over the years. Like your heart was bright, and shiny and new. No one had bothered to look outside the house at you. You who had also changed and grown in ways similar and so very different from them. Always there. Dependable.

Enough.

“Spike, what are you doing?” you mumbled in an exasperated tone. “We have stuff to do. All those teeny-boppers in there need places to sleep with pillows and blankets. We aren’t in this store to fuck around.”

While you pushed a cart through the looted store to get things to return to the Summers’ house, he was messing with a small radio in the corner. Fiddling with the knobs even though you both knew there was no station anymore.

“Trying to find some bloody music, love.” Then he seemingly gave up and let his eyes rove around. “Aha!”

His small smile was disarming as he took quick strides in your direction to reach past your face to grab a small package off a shelf. He brought it up to face you while he scanned the back. A CD. 

You were going to fucking stake him. Here and now.

Quickly, he was back at the radio and starting the CD with a light hum. Rolling your eyes you turned on your heel to continue searching the store for anything everyone would need. Your mission was aborted as a larger hand grabbed your wrist firmly and tugged you back to Spike as the first bars of Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ started filtering through the speakers.

“Seriously William,” you intoned incredulously.

“What?” he asked with both dark eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

“That’s really enough.” You were now more upset over your aching heart than his refusal to help you search the store, as you had been a few minutes ago. And, unfortunately, you were an angry crier so you were trying to move away so as not to be caught.

But nothing really goes your way in these situations does it?

Spike had gripped both of your shoulders as you were turned back to face him, but that didn’t mean you had to look at him. You tensed up to seem more angrily-distant than you were, and prayed to whatever deity that this would be over soon.

“Okay Poppet, that’s it,” he began. “What is going on? We always find a way to have a bit of fun in the bleak. Remember? ‘Us outsiders have to stick together.’? But you’ve been avoiding me for a bit now, and just now you were angry. Bitterly angry.” 

Silence.

Another sigh from him, “It’s been like this since I came back. I know I did some things, and I have to earn forgiveness. But that’s why I got my soul? I thought you- I thought having a soul would-”

“Would what? Impress Buffy? Yeah, we all know that.” you cried out as the dam you had built completely shattered. Tear-filled eyes locked onto his, “‘Outsiders stick together’?? You left me. I was fine how things were. You loved her. You PICKED her. But at least I had you on the outside with me. Then you just left us. Me. And now you want to do this thing? Playing around on an important mission? Grabbing at me? Trying to dance to cliche rock songs? Making me- Feel. So. Much. Like it’s a game. . .”

Sobs were wracking you, and despite all you had said your body craved his for comfort. And he didn’t fail to tug you into his arms; clinging to you like you had said you were the one leaving.

“You’re right,” he muttered and you could feel the vibrations in his chest, the breath on your hair and his slight shaking as he teetered between gripping too tight and knowing his strength. “I did pick her.” 

You went to break free, but he just twined his arms a little tighter while one hand came up to cup the back of your head. “I picked her because she was unattainable, at first. The one I wanted, they were too good for me. They could escape this all if they just decided to walk away. I wasn’t going to be their chain to the horrors of the night. Then. . . Then Buffy was broken. Not quite human or whole. Like me, and I dove into it because the one I loved was tempting and pulling. But love isn’t about what’s best for you. It’s about them.”

Your sobs had died down to shaking breaths as you let yourself relax a bit. But not daring to hope.

“I’ve done terrible things. I didn’t want to be the terrible thing that happened to them. Then I made mistake after mistake to claw my way out of my infatuation. Something she, Buffy, said made me think. I could be a better man. And if I was, then- Then I may be a step closer to deserving the one I love. Getting this soul broke my mind a bit, but I found my way back. I thought I could do this right. Right by them. Start with the friendship we always had.”

“Them. . .”

“You. Always you. Even when loving you broke my heart.”

Now you shoved off his chest a bit and he let you. Hoping this was the thing that would mark your turning point. Knowing, one way or another, things would never be the same.

“I don’t think hearts break Spike,” The breathy words left you of their own volition. All your love, heartache and pain over the years coming to the surface. “Shattered things can only be broken once. But torn things can be mended again and again until it’s all scars and stitching.” A pause to catch your breath. “How can I know? I’m not like them. Any of them, let alone a remarkable, strong, beautiful slayer like Buffy. And now? Of all times, this is when this happens. Of course. The fucking apocalypse is practically here and-”

Truth be told, he had barely heard anything after you spoke of your torn heart. The love, and pain from that love, bleeding through to his own heart and soul. And now you were rambling. His thoughts were simultaneously racing and non-existent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Your words and breath were caught in your throat, eyes wide. But as his mouth pressed more insistently against your own all thoughts fled your brain. Your hands lifted to feather through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned as his hand cupped your head again to pull you closer. 

Your lungs cried for relief and you slowly pulled away as he rested his forehead against yours.

Both of your eyes were closed as he spoke up, “I promise- No. I vow to never let your heart be torn again. To never leave you outside looking in alone. To always be there, in arms reach when you need me, love.” He took a deep breath as both of your eyes opened and locked onto one another’s again. Faintly thinking back to your rambles he went on, “You will always know. Know I love you. Cherish you. See only you. Choose you. And if this is the end. Of the world or just of our lives; I will find you. Time and time again. I vow to love you in this life and all the others we may have. I vow that I am yours. If you will be mine?”

A tear slid down his face, but his eyes only held truth.

“I always have been,” you said as you looked into your future. Your forever and always.

[fayet]

Fic Writer Interview

tagged by: @stillmadaboutpetra

name: Fayet

fandoms: Listen, I’m a one-fic-person. I drop into a fandom, write that one (or two, or three) thing(s) and then go away again. So I’ve written for a lot of fandoms (LotR, Lucifer, that one Star Wars Fic I did not finish, The Witcher). My OC fandom is Harry Potter (heavily AU, though), and I’ll probably die upon that hill. (For the record, I hate Harry Potter. It’s complicated. I don’t even own the books anymore. But oh damn Severus...) 

most popular multi-chapter fic: Hibernating with Ghosts (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119000), The Witcher, 183650 words, 62658 Hits, 3114 Kudos, 873 Comment Threads, 1420 Bookmarks (1033 of these are visible on the Ao3 page).

actual worst part of writing: endings. beginnings. words. trying to find typos. I don’t write in my native language. Everything is horrible, please take this damn idea out of my head. also nobody ever reads anything I write (with the exception of THAT ONE FIC above, i don’t know what happened there, seriously).

how you choose your titles: poetry or song lyric lines. I have poetry lines i have wanted to write a fic for jammed up in my head, and they are just waiting for the perfect moment. otherwise i use one word titles that don’t make sense.

do you outline: actually I do, especially when i’m constructing a multi chapter beast like hwg where there’s actual plot. but usually i don’t write those, i prefer super short one shots with barely any plot and just.. ambiance. and angst. because i do love me some angst.

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice:

That one amazing Minerva McGonagall/Severus Snape-becoming-bros fic that I’ve wanted to write for ages (because i love looking at friendships! everyone writes porn, but friendships are so fantastic and vastly overlooked in fandom). there is even already fanart for it, because the fantastic @clowmaster designed me some amazing things around the plot when I ran it by her. it has three chapters already written, but alas.. maybe one day?

That one dark gothic vibe Severus-Goes-Back-To-Voldemort with a LOT OF BLOOD in it. It’s finished, edited and everything, I just.. haven’t posted it yet.

Should I be writing a dead-dove-body-horror-gender-issues fic for SongXiao just because I have seen The Untamed ONCE and ohmygod Xiao Xingchen is beautiful? No. Am i doing it? Maybe. I mean, Yi-City-Arc and an angst writer, it’s a match made in heaven.

Also I may have an half-fnished Twin Jades-Feelings fic and some poor Song Lan angst. Someone stop me.

callouts @ me: I should really have a beta. like, srsly. But then i use writing fic for language practise, and uh.. sorry, people. i’m trying. tell me about those typos in the comments, please. Thanks.

best writing traits: Sometimes I build a plot and it holds.

spicy tangential opinion: Give me your heart, and I will break it. Hurt? No comfort? Dark deep angst? Sure, get in, we’re going to hell, it will be fun.

some general things about fic, maybe, that are a BIT spicy? I only write fics after going through the entire AO3 tag and finding that nobody has gotten the things I want to read onto paper just yet, so I gotta do it. If you people would just get my fandom opnions EXACTLY right, it would save me so much time.. (and then I’m wondering why nobody reads my shit, I mean.. d’uh).

Oi, @eskelchopchop, get on this! And I feel like @combatbootsfemme and @clowmaster could do it for art, if they feel like it.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts: Go Squid Recs 5

Wizards Hearts Game/Fest began September 1st and is nearly at an end with over 900 comments left on Drarry fics! Our players are spreading love and joy to Drarry fandom content creators.

We have compiled a list of fics submitted by our players that features works they believe deserve more love. We encourage you to shower these works in comments and kudos!

🦑Round 1 🦑Round 2 🦑Round 3 🦑 Round 4

This round of Go Squid contains:

Established Relationship

Roommates

Epistolary

De-Aging

Healer!Draco

Patronus Themes

📜 A Nightmare Waiting to Happen by triggerlil Rated:  Explicit Words:  21979 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Claustrophobia, Eye Trauma, Eye Gouging, enucleation, Childhood Trauma, Vomiting, Choking, Unreliable Narrator, Horror, Body Horror, Clones, Abuse, Nightmares, Zombies, Cannibalism, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Legilimency (Harry Potter), Hospitals, Character Death In Dream, Antagonist James in Dream, bug horror, Snakes, Moths, Child Death in Dream, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Corpses, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Protective Draco Malfoy, Husbands, No Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Bullying Summary:  Draco sat beside Harry's bed as the man breathed deeply; his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, and every so often, he would twitch or part his lips. Draco couldn’t imagine what was going on in Harry’s mind, but he clutched his husband’s hand, wishing he could take his place, do anything to help. Harry Potter is cursed into a nightmare-verse—escaping one nightmare only causes him to fall deeper through the layers of his subconscious—will he be able to free himself, or will his deepest fears swallow him whole? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 This feeling inside by Andithiel Rated:  Mature Words:  8714 Tags:  Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Epistolary, Diary/Journal, flatmates, omg they were roomates, lockdown - Freeform, Quarantine, bisexual awakening, Oblivious, As in ridiculously oblivious, Mentions of a fictional pandemic, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Cooking, Baking, learning to play the guitar, mentions of:, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Kissing, I think it was in that order Summary:  Harry Potter and his flatmate Draco are both straight as nails. But during a lockdown, things start to get a little desperate, and suddenly they’re giving each other friendly handjobs and blowjobs on the regular. But that’s okay. That’s just what friends do. Right? A story about two oblivious idiots, told through the diary of Harry James Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Names and Dreams of Futures Past by KittyAugust (KittyAug) Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1692 Tags: Established Relationship, Age Regression/De-Aging, Off-page kids, HP: EWE, Curses Summary:  Draco gets hit with a de-aging curse over Christmas, and Harry has to look after him. Introspection ensues. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4203 Tags:  Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary:  It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Eight Days (to Save the World) by Anonymous Rated:  Mature Words:  47632 Tags:  Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Housemates, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Mentions of Death, Dementors, Dementor's Kiss, Inferi (Harry Potter), complot, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Potions, Spells & Enchantments, Auror Harry Potter, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Arrests, Duelling, Corrupt System, slytherin friendships, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, House Elves, Blood and Injury, Scars, Oblivious Harry Potter, patient draco malfoy, Abuse of Authority, Abuse of Auror Authority, Corruption, Law Enforcement Corruption, Ministry of Magic Corruption, Breaking and Entering, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Lies, Manipulation, Veritaserum, Memory Charm | Obliviate (Harry Potter), Interrogation, Battle, Murder, Supremacist Group Murder of a Black Character followed by Government Cover-Up, H/D Erised 2020, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Case Fic, Conspiracy, safe houses, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Love Confessions, Auror Ron Weasley, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Friendship Summary:  Darkness returns to the Wizarding World. People disappear without a trace, and all they leave behind are rumours. When the Aurors are tasked with arresting innocent witches and wizards, Harry once again takes it upon himself to fight against the evil infiltrating the Ministry. But this time he isn't alone. And one of his friends is especially determined not to let him die a second time. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary:  For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3