#the longer hair and stubble is bc he looked like that in a dream i had

[casualmonarch]

Remembered a certain poster and knew what i had to do

[ineylesian]

FEVER DREAM.

MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 1.2k

— WARNINGS | smut, mentions of wounds, fem anatomy used, penetration (f), cumming inside, overstimulation, biting (you see those fangs), blood kink (??), oral asphyxiation, light choking.

— SUMMARY | you often find yourself waiting for miguel to come home.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | posted nothing on my to do list bc ATSV has taken ahold of all of my thoughts. miguel is actually so fine i just had to hop on it

— SPANISH TO ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS ARE BELOW EACH PARAGRAPH.

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

You knew the deal. Nine words spoken in a nonformal contract to you the first time Miguel clawed his way into your apartment, bloodied and bruised.

“I cant promise you I’ll come home, mi alma.”

And you knew the words after that, too.

“… but I can promise you that I will die trying, with you in my thoughts, always.”

That night, he sat you down. Made you swear that you would never get too attached. Being a superhero in New York was a lethal deal, and you had to be prepared for anything— everything. Miguel wouldn’t stand the thought of breaking your heart, at least without warning, so he forced you to seal it, everything you loved about him buried away in the depths of your mind.

Yet, human emotion was the victor concerning the inner workings of your heart. And, when he comes home, every little detail of that contract you made shatters.

Miguel treads the glass of your longing heart with fatigued steps, focused on nothing but the sweet capture of your embrace. You feel as if he is a gift sent from the heavens themselves, gazing upon shades of brown that reflect tawny in the light. The light stubble he grew scratches against your jaw as he draws thick sighs of relief, and you feel as if you’re in a fever dream, hands tiredly fumbling for your belt as you sing your praises of his return.

And still, nights like those are a rarity. The words he uttered to you years ago float through your head like a lost prayer, and you’re left lost in the shadow of his absence.

You often find yourself waiting for Miguel to come home. Through all four seasons, the same spot on the couch awaits you night after night, TV static spitting dull reflections of the world outside as you stare up at the ceiling. Some nights, you wonder if he’s finally met his maker and run short of luck.

You still wait. Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. Just as you’re about to lose hope, he returns, just the same as you remember. Suit roughed up, gashes and cuts adorning his skin. He’s nonchalant to the fact, sultry eyes staring you down— a look that you know is just for you. Your fingers find homage in the roots of your hair, brushing thick, unruly strands from his gaze. A little longer than you remember.

“Qué bueno verte, tesorito.” He mumbles, tracing his teeth against your neck as he picks at your skin. “Te extrañé.”

[“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, TREASURE. I’VE MISSED YOU.”]

You hum, eagerly latching around the collar of his suit as he pulls your shirt off. Heat trails along your thighs as his bare hands run along them, dipping his head to kiss you while his index finger loops around your panties. He tastes lightly of cedar and pine, and you smile against his lips as the familiarly of him settles deep within your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you, day and night.” His voice is just above a whisper, fingers dragging along the slick folds of your pussy. “Couldn’t wait to come home and…”

His sentence trails off into a hitch in his throat, blinking slow at the sight of you, practically drooling for him. His fingers swipe lazily at your bud, kicking the rest of his suit off before snaking over you. You’re panting lightly, face tinted in a dusted pink as he strokes his cock, teeth lightly tugging at his lips as he does so.

“Don’t tease me, Miguel.” You complain, softly pinching his arm. “I want you, now.”

He huffs in amusement, lips perking up in a smile.

“You haven’t changed a bit, cariño.”

[“HEART.”]

The shift of his hips is sudden, and you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock filling up your hole. A heavy breath escapes you as he struggles to push his way fully inside, hands planted firmly on your sides, head just inches from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Miguel peppers kisses over your lips, seemingly making the way he bullies his way into your walls more bearable.

“So pretty, mi alma.” His words are soft, flowing in both ears as he draws himself back. “Sé que puedes tomarlo, breathe.”

[“MY SOUL. YOU CAN HANDLE IT.”]

You do as he instructs. Tears prick at your eyes as he thrusts in and out of you, cock heavy with lust, dragging against your tight walls. With each slap of his balls against your pussy, you can see Miguel’s gentle nature slowly escape him. His breathing becomes rugged and hot, panting against your neck in rough takes. Tiny beads of sweat collect at the base of his forehead, and he grips the headboard above you to stay grounded.

“Mmh- feels so good Miguel.” You whine, hands clawing at his scalp. “Don’t stop.. please.”

Your words toy with his self control, twisting a knot deep in his abdomen that furrows his eyebrows tightly together. The growl that emerges from his throat is nearly animalistic, and you bite your lips as he lifts your neck up with his nose.

“Need to taste you, por favor.” His words are strained, mouth hanging open to flash the canines rooted into his gums. “I’ll be gentle, ah- I promise.”

[“PLEASE.”]

His pace is unrelenting, in sync with the fangs that sink into your flesh. Miguel moans against your skin, sending a deep vibration to your nerves that makes you squirm. Blood drips from the puncture when he releases himself from you, lifting a thumb to stifle the bleeding.

The taste of your own blood fills your mouth as he kisses you, and you feel a wave of heat flash over your body. Your stomach tightens, and you cry out against his mouth, faintly gasping as he presses down harder on your throat.

It’s all too much— yet not enough. Miguel groans your name, pace stuttering as spurts of cum paint your insides white. His hold on your skin lightens at the feeling of you gushing over his cock, thrusting sloppily against your spent pussy a few more times before pulling out.

He fully snaps back once his dick flops against your stomach, thick strands of hair messily coating his eyes. You pant in synchrony, chests heaving, blood slowly flowing from your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this— glassy eyes fighting to stay open, fangs prodding against his mouth, slightly ajar.

Such a sight reminds you of why you wait for him to come home, no matter how long it takes. After all, you knew what you signed up for, and his return only made you yearn for him further. Never could you imagine putting your life in anyone else’s hands.

You push at him lightly, gesturing to the open wounds on your neck. Miguel scrambles once he sees them, hurriedly returning to you with a large wrap of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Lo siento, cariño.” He mutters, gently sticking a few thick layers of bandaging against your skin. “I should’ve controlled myself, I’m-“

[“I’M SORRY, LOVE.”]

You cut him off by pressing your index finger to his lips, smiling as his mouth slowly falls shut.

“Don’t worry, Miguel. You’ll let me get you back, won’t you?”

[lokiiied]

the drinking game scene in rotk bc legolas is just naturally good at everything and also an elf it takes like twenty beers to get him even slightly buzzed and then he’s like, “i feel something…a slight tingle in my fingers. i think it is effecting me!” and éomer is just like #impressedandturnedon

will never not be funny but also imagine:

after legolas “wins” the game and him and éomer lift gimli and relocate him éomer is just amazed at legolas’ elf alcohol tolerance and says,

“have you never been drunk before?” and legolas smiles and says,

“not from this.” to which éomer responds,

“care to have a few more then?” and legolas realises they haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other so he says sure. and about five beers later (ten for legolas, who now cannot stop chugging them) éomer, now very much buzzed himself, leans in a bit more than intended and asks,

“how are you feeling now?” and legolas smirks at him,

“trying to get me drunk, are we?” which makes éomer shift back a bit, trying to read him, and says sarcastically,

“i would never- [and then without meaning to say the rest out loud finishes his sentence]

-seduce a prince” to which legolas’ eyebrows raise and he presses,

“seduce?” and éomer panicks and tries to go back,

“not what i meant, i uhm, not thinking clearly.” but legolas, deciding to indulge, shifts slightly so their knees touch and leans in a bit.

“i think you’re thinking perfectly well.”

and so basically they kiss (no one cares everyone has like centimetres of personal space in there and are all drunk off their asses anyways) and it’s nice, but legolas realises in that moment a couple things:

1. he is maybe a little more drunk than he thought he was

2. it is making him (more) confident?

3. and slightly horny

4. he’s enjoying the attention and flirtation and éomer is very sweet and pretty…but he can’t help imagining éomer is someone else.

5. not just. anyone else.

“i’m sorry”, he gently places both hands on éomer’s shoulders and says,

“i have something i must do now.” and he leaves éomer confused but also he’s probably drunk enough to think think it was all just a weird dream.

suddenly legolas finds himself shoving through drunks and couples, away from the loud and crowded spaces and through hallways…he’s not sure where exactly he’s going, just that his heart is pounding and his feet will lead him to where he wants to be. who he wishes to see.

aragorn is on the balcony, looking out upon the ruined city. he doesn’t feel like celebrating. there’s still a battle to be fought, and although they won this one, it’s not looking very promising. he hears familiar footsteps approaching. light and quiet, but still, he can always sense when the elf is near him.

legolas slows when he sees him. he had so much courage when he was running through the corridors, but now that he was here…his heart is throbbing in his throat and his usual confidence no longer felt elevated. but he knew aragorn must be able to hear his heavy breath, so he swallowed and made his way to the man’s side.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” aragorn asks, without turning his head.

“shouldn’t you be with us?” legolas looks to him. taking in his greasy hair and his stubble and his jawline…

aragorn breaks his gaze from the city below, meeting legolas’ eyes. they looked a little glazed, and he could get lost in them if he allowed himself.

“been drinking with the dwarf?” he asks, corner of his mouth turning up into a small smile.

legolas had felt his buzz starting to fade on his run over - it had only lasted 15 minutes or so, and in another 15 it would probably be completely gone. but standing in front of aragorn now, he felt a sudden wave of lust and indulgence washing over him. maybe it was the alcohol…maybe something else. but he decided he wanted to push his luck.

“actually, he’s been passed out about half an hour or so. i beat him in a drinking game.” aragorn chuckled. (god, legolas wanted to kiss that grimy, scratchy, throat)

“is that so?” he could tell legolas was not entirely sober, and he wasn’t sure what direction this conversation was going to take - but he felt compelled to find out.

“mm. apparently it takes a lot of your kind of ale [legolas wasn’t sure what in middle earth had possessed him to reach out and brush his fingers along the front of aragorn’s robes] to take an effect on me.”

“and yet you seem affected, my friend.” aragorn could knew the small act was mindless…but there was also intention to it. he wished legolas would dare even further. for all that had happened, and was happening - he could use a distraction. but legolas wasn’t just a distraction. he was his weakness. and his strength. and the thought of his touch, his smile, his hooded eyes, his parted lips…it was taking everything in aragorn to keep his composure.

the thought of just telling him about his kiss with éomer, was tempting. but then there was a chance that might confuse aragorn. the kiss was nice, but it hadn’t really meant anything to legolas. maybe it wasn’t worth trying to explain all that now.

“i had a realisation.” he decided on that. it was true. and it was what brought him here, standing in front of aragorn now.

“a realisation?” aragorn could feel the world around them start to fade out. his focus only on the small amount of space between legolas and himself. he now had an idea where this might be going, he wanted to coax him on, but he also couldn’t be sure that his imagination wasn’t taking things out of context.

“yes.” legolas wasn’t sure if it was the fading buzz, or the being so close to aragorn, but it was almost like there was some sort of magic that had created a forcefield around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world. if he was going to be brave enough kiss him, time was of the essence.

“and what is that?” aragorn wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to be still with legolas looking at him like that. he wasn’t sure how had ever been able to restrain himself from leaning in to his touches and wrapping his arms around that waist and pulling him in so their hearts touched. how he had resisted tucking that glorious hair behind pointed ears and caressing that perfect jaw-

“i kissed éomer.” well, if he was going to confess his truth, he might as well confess all of it. besides, he wanted aragorn to know that

“it happened in the moment. and it was very nice - but it meant nothing, to me at least. but it did lead me to realise that it wasn’t him i had hoped to be kissing…that i…i was thinking of another.”

aragorn had not expected a confession of this sort, and it did surprise him for a moment, he felt a little sorry for éomer. and a little envious, of not being the first to feel legolas’ lips on his own. but he also knew that, to have legolas’ heart was that of hard earned pining, and of highest fortune. and their every moment together had lead to this one. and if he was being truthful, he could have lived in it forever. but fucks sake was it taking too long. he breathed in through his nose and gently placed one hand above legolas’ waist, slowly, carefully, closing the space between their bodies. the other tucking a strand of hair behind pointed ear.

“and might this ‘other’ have had you running through the halls in your courageous and intoxicated state, to confess this truth?” legolas’ breath hitched, he actually wasn’t sure when he had last taken a full breath- his head was cloudy, and he wasn’t sure if what was happening was real - or perhaps a fantasy that he would soon wake from. he had to be sure.

legolas’ soft, but cold hand found it’s way to cup the side of aragorn’s stubbled cheek. he felt some force of nature pulling them together, it was no use fighting. their lips were centimetres apart…

“he may have.” legolas’ eyes were hooded, and those few words to answer aragorn’s question moments ago (seconds? minutes?) were all he could manage to escape his lips before he found them meeting aragorn’s, finally. he breathed in sharp through his nose and let the air travel between them, before breaking away.

legolas’ hands were on the back of aragorn’s neck, contrasting the heat there. his own hands were now gently clutching the elf’s lower back. he was certain legolas’ smile then was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think i have ever seen you smile with such ease” legolas teased, but truthfully it must’ve been the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think it’s ever been so easy to smile.” and he meant it.

“what now?”

“what would you have me do with you?” oh. well, there was no one answer to that. and certainly not a very respectful, elvishly, one. he took aragorn’s hand, leading him away from the balcony and towards presumably whatever closest chamber or reasonably private place they could find.

“very unprincely things.”

[gabessquishytum]

I’m begging for more dreamling body hair content. Like, does Dream even have body hair? Bc i headcanon him being smooth like a seal. The contrast between Dream’s flawless, hairless, alabaster skin and Hob’s hairy, tan, scarred skin. The friction vs smoothness when they rub together. The smells! The full body beard burn!

Also like, shaving kink is a thing. Obvs Dream is gonna hide Hob’s razor, but eventually Hob is gonna need to shave (at least trim up the neckbeard hair) How would Dream react? Would he want to do the deed himself? Hold the straight razor (bc duh, Hob uses a straight razor, its the sexiest option) up to Hobs throat, take off the hair in short, even, precise strokes? All the while Hob is sitting between his knees, looking up at him from under his lashes?

Jfc

Oh fuck I can’t resist the body hair content. Holy heck.

The thing about male body hair is and contrast of sensation you get from it!! For a start, chest hair can be so soft and silky. Imagine Dream just running his fingers slowly through thick, dark hair. Pressing the palm of his hand over Hob’s heart and feeling the gentle prickle of hair underneath. The texture can do so many things to Dream’s body all at once. If he runs his hand down, his fingers sink into the soft flesh of Hob’s belly and those long digits are embraced and curled over by hair that’s soft and coarse at the same time. Maybe the hair around his groin is a little rougher, a little scratchier. The strands curls thickly around his fingertips and the scent is thicker too, more lingering.

It’s fascinating for Dream who is ethereal and unhuman and hairless by choice. He has no texture, no musky scent. So he’s stealing Hob’s and keeping it for his own. Burying his face and his hands in greedily.

And yes, there’s the beloved facial hair. The first time Hob drags his bearded cheek over Dream’s chest, catching his nipples on prickly hair, leaving burning red streaks in his wake, Dream almost loses control over his own physical form. The scratches of beard burn linger on his skin much longer than they should. He delights in walking around with his face rubbed almost raw with kissing.

Hob has to beg to be allowed a shave. However sexy Dream might find it, it’s itchy as fuck actually and people are starting to stare at him. Dream agrees, only if he can be the one to do the shaving. He wants to tip Hob’s head back, and the drag the razor firmly over his skin - right there, where his pulse beats wildly under the surface. He’s good at it. Hob knows that his hands won’t slip, and he sits perfectly still and trusting. Listening to the scrape of the razor and watching the way Dream’s tongue pokes out slightly as he concentrates.

Dream is reassured by the fact that that very evening, Hob’s jaw is shadowed and stubbly again. It won’t be long before the beard is back with a vengeance. And in the meantime, Dream is feeling a strong urge to pay attention to Hob’s thighs. There’s enough hair down there to keep him sated for now at least.

[unlimitedhorsepower]

Ryan grows as much beard as Antonio does in my mind (he has a full face of beard to me) but Ryan does it like some kpop boys and uses an epilator instead of shaving so he doesnt get 8'o'clock shadow or stubble like that bc it keeps the beard at bay for longer.

He tries to talk to Kotetsu and Antonio about shaving some time and they just imagine him having like 2 beard hairs but being really insistent about shaving like some high school boy.

Ryan's like c'mon dudes I don't think you're really getting what I'm laying down here eh... I have a thicker beard than old Tiger here. More chest hair too. If you care!

They agree fakely to make him happy because Ryan is entirely smooth. They've seen it. Dude doesn't have a single hair on his body, cute he thinks so though, who am I to crush his dreams

Ryan has to bust out some post-hospital stay pictures (after Gregory incident) bc he couldn't get shaved and waxed since he was in the hospital lol and send them in the guys' GC. Antonio asks if that's Ryan's father or something and Ryan's like man..... that's literally me

Scared every guy big time to learn what epilating is. Except Barnaby who understands Ryan wasnt just born without body hair because he knows things and also epilates his legs and 2 beard hairs or smth I know it

Ivan shows Ryan_beard.jpeg to Paolin during training and she is sending this photo to everyone who hasn't seen it yet immediately. Karina says Ryan looks beastly.

Nathan knew already so she's just like mmhm that's Ryan's beard alright. She thinks clean-shaven naked molerat Ryan is a downgrade in general but he's not her type anyways so she doesn't care so much, the Ryan she knows is great company to go shopping with and get waxed together and smth

[lacheri]

Hello Cherry I have a request! Eren always teasing and being a little mean to the reader so she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine (so sorta like a sub! eren x brat tamer! reader) okay that is all ilysm bye bye

hi Kat!! you send me the best prompts 🤤 I hope you enjoy thank you for requesting ily!!!

too much

pairing: sub/brat!Eren x brat tamer!fem bodied reader

content: Eren’s an asshole, established relationship, ruined orgasms, oral (f and m receiving), humiliation/degradation kink, minors DNI.

wc: 3.5k

notes: this is unedited I literally just wrote this up as fast as I could bc this ask drove me WILD

Your fists were clenched at your sides, fingernails digging crescents on the inside of your palms, knuckles white. You were stomping through your shared living room with your boyfriend, curses and swears leaving your lips. Eren had managed to piss you completely off, feelings of humiliation and frustration fueling the fire coursing through your veins.

It all started earlier this morning, waking up next to your sleepy boyfriend, kissing his cheek sweetly. Your half naked bodies wrapped together in a cocoon of blankets, hair messy and eyelids heavy. Usually, Eren would stir awake and return your kisses with enthusiasm, but he had cracked a single eye open this morning, frowned and grumbled, and pushed you off of him. You had pouted, feeling rejected, and immediately flung yourself out of the bed to get ready for the day. When Eren had finally woken up, joining you in your shared bathroom as you brushed your teeth, he made no effort to console you. He saw the wrinkles on your forehead as your eyebrows furrowed together, a tell all sign for what you were feeling. He simply brushed past you, grabbing his own toothbrush and standing right beside you as if he hadn’t been so recklessly ignorant of you.

When the two of you had spit and gargled mouthwash, he cleared his throat, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, “What’s your deal?”

Your eyes flickered to him for a brief second, and you rolled your eyes and stomped off back to your bedroom to get dressed. Fuck him, if he wanted to start the day off so sour, he was going to get the same attitude back.

Eren followed behind you, smirk still growing, “You’re mad I pushed you away this morning, aren’t you?”

“So you did it on purpose?” you couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice, back facing him as you searched through your closet. You really had intended to ignore Eren for a while, letting him stew in your cold shoulder treatment, but he always knew how to crawl under your skin and get a rise out of you.

“Just wanted to see how you’d react,” he teased, coming directly behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms crossed on his bare chest. “I was right.”

Fury licked flames up your throat and you stepped forward, throwing your boyfriend off balance. You didn’t want to play whatever game he was trying to set up, you had things to do today besides bend to Eren’s will. Hearing his response, it drove motivation into the pits of your mind that Eren was not going to get a reaction out of you anymore today.

However, he had other plans.

Today has been your day off from work and school, as well as Eren’s day off. The plan was to straighten up the house, invite your friends over in the evening and order pizza. Nothing too crazy or over the top, just a nice relaxing day.

Things didn’t quite work out that way. After the two of you had gotten dressed and made breakfast, every single time you tried to clean an object, Eren would somehow get in the way. He pulled books of the bookcase and left them on the floor or any surface he could find, managed somehow to fill the sink with dirty dishes, not rinsing them off to put in the dishwasher, and found every article of clothing between the two of you to toss on the bedroom floor. The hour long cleaning session had turned into the entire day, long enough that you had to text your friends that tonight wasn’t going to work out.

Because every time you made progress in your small home, Eren would find another thing that got added to the list. As much as it infuriated you, mostly because Eren was supposed to be helping you, you couldn’t let it phase you. No, you knew he was trying to piss you off. You weren’t going to crack under his pressure, not give him the satisfaction of seeing you wound up and upset.

The last straw had snapped when he walked into the living room, seeing you pick up the last book he had thrown on the floor, and opened his stupid mouth.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” Eren spat. “This house is a complete disaster.”

Your eyes flickered incredulously to the wall clock, six o’clock it had read, your entire day wasted away, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

You searched for a hint of playfulness in his expression, seeing nothing but his stone cold eyes piercing into you as he spoke without hesitation, “I’m entirely fucking serious. How are we supposed to have company over if you can’t clean a fucking house?”

“Already cancelled,” you fumed, standing up from your crouched position, leaving the book on the floor. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?”

“You. What? Do you need me to use your name at every sentence whenever I talk to you?” Eren kept edging, a feel of gratification consuming him upon learning his friends weren’t coming over anymore. “How am I supposed to marry someone who can’t fucking clean?”

You felt sharp pangs of hurt in your chest, eyes losing their spark, “Eren, that’s mean. Why are you being so mean today?”

He had only smirked, reveling in your mood switch. In the silence shared then, he announced he was getting a bath, he had such a hard working day and wanted to relax. He had left you in the living room alone, and you felt the anger inside of you bubble up, threatening to go over. You snapped, heading straight to the bathroom where you could hear the flow of water into the tub stop.

The door slammed against the wall as you threw it opened, seeing Eren jump slightly at the impact. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, arms stretched out against the rim of the tub, and in any other situation you’d be crawling into the water with him. He’d be so sweet about it too, bringing you to his chest and giving you kisses while you giggled at the attention. Hell, he’d probably even shower you in compliments and appreciation. Not today though, his eyes hardened as you stopped right in front of him.

“Out, now,” you ordered through clenched teeth. You could hear Eren’s breath kick up, but he didn’t move. “Are you deaf? Get out, now, Eren.”

His body moved before his mouth could protest, standing stark naked in the shin deep water. You could see the steam rise off of his skin, your eyes trailed downwards. Although soft, his dick was still impressive, but the longer you stared at the fleshy member, it twitched and rose a bit. You quirked an eyebrow, realization dawning on you. Oh, so this was why Eren was acting like this today?

You made eye contact with him then, his legs shifting over the rim of the tub, before standing directly in front of you. Your hand whipped up to the back of Eren’s head, fisting his hair, and yanking his head back, exposing every line and vein and bulge in his throat.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get me all angry so I could take it out on you?” Eren’s dick was rock solid, giving you a physical answer, but you still needed the verbal one, “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he choked out, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat.

“Well it fucking worked. I have half a mind to leave you here, like this, to take care of yourself,” you pulled his hair further, a gasp leaving his parted lips.

“No, please, don’t,” Eren’s voice came out whiny as he begged. You smirked, although he wasn’t able to see it as his eyes faced directly up to the ceiling.

“You’re going to drain this tub,” you began to instruct, tilting his head so his eyes trailed to your hard set ones. “And then you’re going to dry off, and go lay flat on your back on the bed. Do you understand me?”

He nodded feverently, happy you released your grip as his neck had begun to ache. You smoothed that same hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath your fingertips, “Good boy.”

Eren set to work quickly, giddy with excitement. This had been his plan all along, to get you riled up enough to take it out on him. Genuinely, Eren hadn’t meant to start this at all today. When you had kissed him awake, he was having a really good dream he didn’t want to wake up from quite then, and hadn’t meant to push you away. Upon seeing your sad pout, followed by a flicker of anger in your orbs, something stirred within Eren. He began to question, just how far could he push you until you caved in?

Eren didn’t stick around to watch the tub fully drain, he was dried off and on the bed just as you had requested. You leaned against the wall, clad only in your bra and panties, and you watched him with hungry eyes as he followed your every instruction. Your boyfriend was a beautiful man, every part of him intriguing and gorgeous to you. He looked like a Greek God, arms and legs spread out, the subtle light from your bedside lamps casting shadows across his abs and into the V of his pelvis. Eren had a beautiful cock as well, thick and long and veiny, it sat perched on his lower abdomen, twitching as you pushed yourself off the wall to loom over your man.

“Look at you,” you mused, letting a dark chuckle vibrate from your chest. “You’re already hard and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he answered. The skin on his cock was so taut and tight, feeling somewhat light headed as all the blood was rushed to his member.

“You know I’m going to have to punish you, right? For being so mean to me today?” you batted your eyelashes, crawling on to the bed, sitting on your knees by his side, refusing to touch him just yet.

“I know,” Eren whined, trying to reach out to touch your thigh only to be met with the harsh slap of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” you cooed in false security, brushing Eren’s hair out of his beautiful face. “But that’s okay, you’re gonna’ make it up to me, right now.”

You traced the outline of Eren’s plump lips, resting your forehead against his as you muttered in your darkest voice, “I’m taking away your right to touch me. Convince me you’re sorry, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Eren squirmed under the heat of your words, eyes darting across your face for a hint of a lie, of hesitation. He found nothing, only the glimmer of lust in your eyes as you gazed down at him. Your fingers pushed past his soft lips, and he needed no instruction to latch on and suck. If this was the only touch he would get of you, your fingers pumping into his mouth, scissoring his tongue, he’d take it all so greedily to make you regret putting these rules in place. He never broke eye contact, curling and circling his tongue between your pointer and middle fingers, imagining they were the divine petals between your thighs. You were doing the same, feeling the gush of arousal slicken you. You tapped his tongue, signaling a release. He parted his now swollen lips easily, eyes pleading.

“Can I kiss you at least?” Eren rasped, his hands twitching at his sides.

“No,” you placed a contrasting sweet kiss to his forehead in your dark tone. “That would be touching, sweetheart.”

Eren held back a whine, knowing it was futile. He was simply going to have to lay there, and take whatever punishment he had coming, unable to escape it or bring you pleasure amongst it all. If there was a glimmer of hope, it was crushed as he felt your face travel down to his neck. You were in complete control, just as Eren had wanted.

You sucked and licked at his throat, your dry hand coming up to squeeze what skin you weren’t kissing. You trailed your lips down, kissing his entire torso. As much as you wanted to spend the time working Eren up, you had ideas swirling in your head. Eren had no patience with you today, so you weren’t going to have patience with him. Besides, it was sort of cruel to not pay immediate attention to his swollen cock.

Your hand slicked in his saliva wrapped around the base of his length, a sharp intake of breath heard from Eren’s lips. It came out shaky as you began to pump, his precum oozing from his tip and meeting the warm wetness of your fingers. You twisted your hand up and down, beginning to feel the moisture rub away, his spit drying. This was no good, and you continued to kiss down his stomach until your lips met the head of his reddened cock. He hissed as you spat on it, hand spreading it all over. Your tongue slipped past your lips, kitten licking at his tip. Eren couldn’t think straight, and he settled his hands above him to try and keep his grip as far away from you as he could.

It was nearly impossible to not grab your hair and slam you down as your sweet lips parted and you began to suck his fat tip. Eren succeeded though, knuckles white gripping pillows, and he heaved out a groan. You swiped your tongue along his slit, tastebuds soaking up his salty precum. You prodded in just a little bit, sending a shiver up Eren’s spine. Your hand still doing most of the work, you thought you’d up the game by throwing your other hand in the mix. Eren let out a high pitched moan, throwing his head back at the onslaught of attention.

“It’s so fucking cruel I can’t touch you,” he whined yet again, craning his neck to meet your eyes.

You popped your mouth from his head, “I guess I’m going to be downright evil after what I’m about to do.”

Before Eren could respond, your hands moved to his thighs and his cock was swallowed into the back of your throat. He couldn’t stop the noises he was making as you bobbed your head unbelievably fast, sucking him more and more until your nose buried into the neatly kept curls above his shaft. You were trying your hardest not to gag, your throat entirely full, and Eren was trying his hardest not to cum on impact. You pulled back a bit, tears blinked back from your eyes, and returned a single hand to work what you couldn’t reach.

Eren’s thighs tightened, his breathing hitching, “Fuck, I’m getting so close.”

At this reveal, your pace only quickened, full intentions of bringing him to his utmost height. Your cheeks sucked harder, tongue lapping the underside of his length, and you were covered in your own spit. Sloppy and messy, just how Eren liked it. How you seemed to like it, as well.

“Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Eren called out alongside your name, hips bucking into your mouth. Your other hand met the swell of his balls, feeling them tighten up as his release was right there. As Eren let out the first whine to signal his climax, you yanked your hands away and slipped your mouth off with a pop.

He spasmed, too far gone to stop. His dick stood tall, shooting his load onto his stomach, throbbing so hard and so uncomfortably that tears rolled down Eren’s cheeks. You had ruined his orgasm. His cock was leaking clear fluid, his body frustrated with the lack of contact, entirely unsatisfied. His jaw slacked open, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at you in disbelief.

“That’s what you get for trying to piss me off all day,” you growled, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Stay right there, Eren.”

You got off the bed, reaching into your bedside table to pull out two objects — a tiny vibrator and a suit tie. You yanked Eren’s hands up, tying them to your headboard. You undressed yourself quickly, revealing your naked body to Eren’s greedy eyes. His dick hadn’t softened, still painfully erect and needy as he subconsciously bucked into the air. You didn’t comment, knowing how bad Eren wanted you and your attention back to his pulsating member. You threw your thighs around his neck, straddling the lower half of his face.

“You want me to touch you?” Eren nodded, tears still pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Make me cum, and I’ll return the favor.”

Easy enough, Eren thought, lolling his tongue out for you to place your glistening folds on. You sat down fully, letting out a moan as your hips circled his mouth, your hands latched into his hair. Eren heard the soft click of the vibrator in your hands, and moved his south south, knowing exactly what it was you were searching for.

You gasped as his tongue penetrated your tight hole, walls fluttering around his wet muscle as you slid the vibrator right up to your clit. If Eren had only had his hands, you wouldn’t need that little toy to satisfy you. He’d be doing all the work, bringing you all your pleasure up to your climax. All Eren’s work, but you didn’t want him to have that satisfaction.

Because this was you, and you were in full control, there was absolutely no point in teasing yourself. You were rewarding yourself, Eren just happened to be a part of the ride, literally. You thought of all the mean words he had said to you today, all the teases and inconveniences. Your hand in his hard gripped harder, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you tried to level your moans.

“You pissed me off so fucking bad today,” your head was thrown back as Eren fucked you with his tongue, your hips pressing down harder. “You were so mean. Now look at you, pathetic. Letting me fuck your face like the little brat you are.”

Eren felt his cock twitch, feeling similar waves of humiliation you had felt today. He knew better than to speak, instead, thrusting his tongue even harder into your entrance to show his response. You were right, he had wanted to feel completely powerless under your wrath, wanted you to use him as if he was disposable, to punish him. When he felt your hand leave his hair, feeling the harsh sting of a slap on his chest behind your ass, he was grateful. This is all he wanted, tears brought to his eyes in pure joy.

Your nails dug into his peck, your orgasm fast approaching, “Oh my God, you’re such a good boy, keep going. Oh fuck, Eren I’m about to cum.”

Eren felt pure pride and love swell in his body, ruined by a cold chill of blinding pleasure. No, no, he was not going to cum with no contact, surely? His scrotum tightened, eyes slamming shut. You were going to be livid when you saw the mess he was creating.

Eren’s cock shot thick white ropes into your back, yes, from that far away. It was just all too much, the degradation, it was like your words had been stroking him up the entire time. His body vibrated, but he forced his eyes to open to watch you fall apart above him.

Your wrist flicked fast with the vibrator in hand, feeling your walls clench and tip over the edge. You screamed breathlessly, pushing your entire lower half into Eren’s mouth. Eren could feel the tingle of your toy against his nose, a small goofy smile on his lips as he thought of how funny it would be if he sneezed. You pulled it away quickly though, mind coming back together as you began to worry about how hard you had pushed into his face. Your orgasm slowed, walls contracting at a much lazier pace, and you lifted your hips.

“Good boy,” you praised, eyes full of love as you reached up to untie his hands. “You did such a good job, baby.”

You hadn’t noticed what Eren had done until you felt a cold brush against your lower back and ass. You hand circled around, feeling the wet sticky spots, and your jaw dropped.

“Eren, did you cum from just eating me out?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he was pleading, shying away from your widened eyes. “Was too much.”

Eren thought you would’ve been furious, instead, a soft laugh echoed in your chest. You moved off of him, laying on your stomach to place a sweet kiss to his lips. He eagerly returned it, happiness tickling throughout his entire body. When you pulled away, you rested your head on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist.

“That’s the hottest thing ever,” you admitted, curling a strand of his hair in your finger.

“I’m going to piss you off more often,” Eren joked lightly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I like this side of you.”

“Please, Eren, don’t. Next time you want me to top, just fucking ask me.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[duuhrayliegh]

europe - request

pairing: sebastian stan x singer!reader (seb!pov)

summary: singer!reader writes another song, this one is about seb

warnings: suggestive content (*wink wonk*), language, the works ya know

a/n: this took so long bc im not lyrically inclined and there isn’t even that many lyrics in here. i can’t even guys this was a nice break though. i liked the concept, i hope i lived up to your dreams. :)

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are both open loves!

check out my other writing on my full m.list

Sebastian was doing a press interview for his new movie. It was his first on television interview. First time being back in the studio for The Late Late Show with James Corden. First time since you and him had gotten together. He was eager to see what James had in store for him.

He was wearing a bright yellow shirt paired with a red leather jacket. His legs were clad with a different pair that he wanted to wear originally because you couldn’t get quite enough of his thighs. Had he worn the other pair, there would’ve been a prominent wet spot on one leg where you rode him to your own satisfaction. The memory made him bite his lip and adjust his pants to try to quell his oncoming boner.

“Good luck out there tonight, lovey. You’re gonna crush it.” Your voicemail warmed Sebastian’s heart. He missed you a lot, but you were currently on your own press junket. Your new album finally came out and your manager had been running you ragged. Sebastian was so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Hi, Mr. Stan. You’re needed on deck in five minutes.” He nodded at the assistant producer who stuck her head in his dressing room. Sebastian ran his hands through his hair one more time before deciding enough was enough.

“Well, this is as good as it's gonna get.” He murmured to himself as he walked out of the dressing room. He rolled his shoulders, snuggling into the leather jacket encasing his back. Sebastian took a swig of a water bottle from the table backstage. He still got nervous when doing interviews, always worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing.

“And now I would like to introduce our next guest. You’ve seen him as Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for the last ten years. He’s played the borderline psychotic Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya, and the corrupt Sheriff Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. It is my pleasure to introduce the one, the only, Sebastian Stan!”

James stood, clapping as Sebastian made his way to the main set area. He raised his right hand, his left remaining on his stomach. As he approached James, Sebastian switched hands, his left coming up as an offer for James to shake. Afterwards, James held his hand out to the chair beside his desk, waiting for Sebastian to sit down.

“Hi, Sebastian! It’s so good to have you back.” James’ accent broke Sebastian’s name up into three distinct syllables, bringing a smile to Seb’s face.

“It’s good to be back, man.” He grinned big, waiting for James to ask the first question. Once they got into it, the interview went smoothly. Sebastian was able to avoid giving out spoilers for his new project, leaving just enough to the imagination. James was in a fit of laughter after Sebastian had told a crazy story from being on set. James wiped tears away from his lower lashline, calming down just enough to catch his breath.

“Okay, so I want to move onto something else.” Sebastian sobered up quickly, unsure of where James was taking the conversation. “We want all the juicy details about your relationship with Y/N.” Sebastian’s brow raised as he pulled a face at James’ question. He laughed to himself for a minute before answering.

“Ya know, we really have you to thank for that.” Sebastian pointed at James, before bringing that same finger to rub his eye.

“Really?” The man’s voice pitched up, brows hitting his hairline.

“Oh yeah. We were only introduced because of your show.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair, remembering that night with you. The two of you had gone out for drinks, talking for hours at the bar and then even longer in his hotel room. He remembered waking up with you wrapped up in his arms. You didn’t have sex that night, but you definitely did the second night.

And oh god, if  that second night wasn’t just as amazing as the first. The face you made whenever you climaxed danced it’s way to the forefront of Sebastian’s mind. Not good, definitely not good. He had to readjust himself in his pants again, crossing his legs to cover up his rather large problem.

“Yeah, we started dating that same week. Kept it quiet though.” Sebastian held his palm out in the air, bouncing it up and down.

“Right, right. And do you want to tell everyone how you did end up revealing that you and Y/N were an item?” Sebastian looked down at his lap, smirking to himself. “Or should we just play the clip?”

A clip played for the studio audience. It was Y/N doing her makeup for the Vogue Beauty Secrets Youtube video. Sebastian waltzed in the background of the shot. It then cuts to Sebastian kissing Y/N on the cheek, brandishing the hickey’s that she had sucked onto his cheek the night before. Mhm, I remember that night too.

Sebastian had surprised Y/N by coming to see her. He wasn’t doing anything and he missed you, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity. He spent the night there completely ravishing you until you begged him to stop. That night he proudly wore your thighs as earmuffs, burying his face in you. He really needed to stop reminiscing during an interview.

“How adorable. Was that planned at all? Or did you just do that because you could?” Sebastian shook his head, his right hand scratching at the stubble decorating his jaw.

“Oh, no. It definitely wasn’t planned. I honestly don’t remember if I knew Y/N was filming that morning, so I’m just glad I put on pants before I left the bedroom.” James laughed at Sebastian’s comment.

“Okay, so I’ve gotta ask your opinion on something though.” Sebastian made a hum of acknowledgement, signalling for James to continue. James leaned back, pulling out a cardstock of your new album. “So, this is Y/N’s new album, it just came out about three or four weeks ago?” The crowd clapped for you, and Sebastian cheered along with them.

“What do ya want my opinion on? If it’s the album, then I gotta tell ya, I loved it. Every single song on there is absolutely amazing.” James nodded, a smirk forming on his lips making Sebastian think he made a mistake.

“So you’re aware of the song Europe?” Sebastian smirked, nodding his head because he knew where this was going. “Would you like to tell us what that’s about?” James laughed as Sebastian stammered, looking for the right words. “I mean, let’s just read some of the lyrics.” James looked at the cards in his hands as Sebastian drifted into his thoughts again.

You had brought him into the studio before finalizing Europe. He remembers watching you twist your hands at your waist and continuously cracking your knuckles. Sebastian was curious because you hadn’t ever been like that when showing him a song before. Every question he had about your anxiety revolving around the song was thrown away when he heard it.

Europe was an ode to Sebastian, all of Sebastian. He couldn’t help pulling you down onto his lap by your waist as he listened. You were the only two in the studio, so the two of you were free to do whatever you wanted. The funny thing about that night was that there was a new track recording.

“Oh shit, Seb.” The dam broke afterwards, peels of laughter leaving your lips without explanation. Your right hand raised to your mouth, attempting (and failing) to quiet your giggles.

“Babe, why the ‘oh shit’?” You held up a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet and listen. He strained his ears, waiting for his own ‘oh shit’ moment. Then, his own voice filtered into his ears, making him crease his brow in confusion. “What is that?”

“That’s the audio from when I first played you Europe.” Small giggles passed your lips again. “I was going to ask you if I could use, like, a sound byte from it for either the beginning or the end of the song.” Sebastian nodded, slightly amazed that you were so creative with your work. “But, I forgot to turn off the recording.” Sebastian’s eyes locked on your expression, waiting for him to connect the dots. He pulled a face and then,

“Oh shit.” His eyes widened, a huff of laughter escaping. “Wait, so it caught all of it?” Your lips rolled inwards, holding back laughs as you nodded your head. Sebastian raised a brow, his eyes flicking over your face. “Use it.” He had a few new hickeys after that night too, but not after decorating your body with a few of his own.

“Sebastian, I would like you to read a few lines from the song, please.” James handed Sebastian a card, a snort leaving Sebastian’s body involuntarily. He glanced at the cards, know the lyrics by heart already. He took a big breath, reading the lines that James chose. He threw him a look with his eyes, head tilting slightly toward the British man.

“Uh, okay, here we go.” Sebastian laughed to himself, blowing out a breath through clenched lips. He lifted the card again, “You know,” dropping his hand back to his lap while raising his other hand. “You know, she’s gonna make fun of me for this right?” James laughed, looking into the camera as if he was on The Office, then to the audience with a duh look on his face.

“Sebastian. We’re going to make fun of you.” The crowd didn’t hesitate to join in James’ amusement. Sebastian dropped his head into his hands, groaning loudly. “Do you need a little encouragement?” The audience began cheering and clapping for Sebastian.

“Fine, alright, alright.” He shook his head before starting. “Long nights with hickeys earned like a badge of honor. Teasing kisses, twisted sheets, all signs of true seduction.” Sebastian looked up from his hands, expecting James to say something. All James offered, though, was a wave of his hand for Sebastian to continue. “I never have to worry because all my sins are forgiven when I’m with you.” James held his hand up, stopping Sebastian from continuing.

“Okay, let’s dissect that, Mr. Stan.” James propped his elbow on his interview desk, placing his head at an angle in his palm. “What is this song about?” Sebastian’s lips curled inward, stopping himself from laughter.

“James,” Sebastian leaned forward against the arm of the couch. “I thought this was a family show.” The British man quirked a brow, sweeping both hands in front of his body gesturing to the studio.

“This is the Late Late Show, Sebastian.” He turned back to the audience, addressing them and the cameras. “And that is all the time we have tonight! Thank you to Sebastian for coming on the show with me tonight! And thank all of you for tuning in tonight. We’ll see you next time.” The producer beside the camera signaled that the show ended and Sebastian turned back to James.

“It’s a good song.” Sebastian smiled wide afterwards, saying his goodbyes to the crew. He was back in the safety of his dressing room when his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” He knew that it was you from the personally assigned ringtone you picked out when he wasn’t looking.

“The Internet is going to eat you alive.” Sebastian grinned as your peels of laughter trickled in through the speaker of his phone.

“Oh yeah, could you imagine if I told them that it wasn’t just random sounds at the end?” He could just imagine your smirk at his mention of your little addition to Europe.

“We’re gonna have to do that again.” Sebastian paused, waiting for you to explain. “Although I think next time we should do a visual along with the audio. You pickin’ up what I’m putting down Stan?” Sebastian smirked to himself, thinking about being able to watch himself bring you to the brink over and over again, even when you’re not together. His pants got tighter at the idea.

“I think we might have to look into that, Y/L/N.”

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?���

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[fbfh]

magnus chase relationship and intimacy hcs

I genuinely found zero magnus hcs and it made me really sad

Also might not be as in character as my hoo posts cause I haven’t finished the series my library is closed don’t come for me-

As with all steamy/nsfw works, all characters are aged up to 18+

Warnings: moderate descriptions of ptsd symptoms and emotional recovery,, also like boinking and dicks obvs

1.6k words uwu

‘,:)

So he absolutely definitely has ptsd 

I don’t remember norse demigods being mentioned as having adhd and dyslexia so correct me if I’m wrong lol

I mean his mom was brutally murdered, he was fucking homeless, then he was killed and taken to valhalla

So yeah

Ptsd

He’s really defensive and jumpy at physical contact for a while

But he’s also incredibly touch starved

He’s super whipped for you

So it makes him really frustrated when he wants to be affectionate and vulnerable with you but he just,,, can’t

He has a lot of emotional walls up too for obvious reasons

You have to have really clear communication with him 

Which you do,, and he appreciates it a lot

You baby step into affection and intimacy

And let him take the lead a lot

It takes a while

But after a bit he gets these bursts of affection where he’ll cuddle and make out with you for like

Five minutes or less

Then it starts to feel weird again

You try to do small stuff like hand holding or blowing him a kiss or putting your head on his shoulder to help melt that ice

And it works

It goes from feeling weird, to weird but nice, to nice but kind of weird, to nice enough to ignore the weird part

As soon as he can be,,, he is an affectionate fiend

He likes to bear hug you a lot

He keeps a hand on your cheek or jaw line or the back of your neck when you kiss a lot

He still gets a little weird about his back or stomach or neck being touched which you totally understand 

So you kiss his shoulders and collarbones and run your hands over his chest and arms a lot

Once he had a really bad dream and couldn’t sleep cause he didn’t feel safe bc

~‧₊˚; *‧.₊˚ flashbacks fucking suuuuuuck ~‧₊˚; *‧.₊˚

So you played some home renovation show and spooned him and whispered

“It’s okay, I’ve got your back”

He didn’t have anymore nightmares that night

He really likes back hugs after that, as long as he knows it’s you behind him

He gives really nice kisses

It’s like a big full kiss

Idk how else to describe it but it’s very unique to him

He’s super protective over you still in a healthy way

He’s super fuckin pansexual and you can pry that from my cold dead hands

So he has a lot of hoodies and denim jackets

And bracelet stacks and weird dad thrift store shirts

And you can get him more of these things no matter how many he has and he will love it an equal amount 

Which is a lot

He gets kind of insecure and feels bad about all his weird symptoms bc he minimizes what he’s been through a lot

It’s kind of a why can’t I just get over it and be normal feeling

You remind him a lot that it’s okay and his feelings and experiences are valid and he’s safe now

He needs to hear that a lot

Once a lot of that ice has been broken he gets really touchy really fast

You two were just like

Chilling on the couch watching a movie or something

And he nuzzles into your side to cuddle

So you lay down a little more and he rests his head on your chest

You keep watching the movie like that for a while 

He props himself up and just kind of looks at you for a minute

He can’t remember feeling this warm before he met you

And now he feels really really warm 

And tingly

You’re about to look over and ask if he’s alright when he just 

Presses his face into your neck and starts kissing you

You let out this breathy flustred little laugh he’s never heard before and he wants to make you make that sound again

He kisses up to your face and his hair is all in his eyes

So you brush it out of the way and tuck it behind his ear and his face nuzzles into your hand

He bites back a moan

You end up making out a lot

Which leads to,, other things

You don’t question it or ask where that came from

You just give him a lot of love and reassurance

Once he feels comfortable,,,, I hope you’re ready bitch

Cause you’ll be under him

And on top of him

A lot

Like a lot lot

He doesn’t have a lot of experience so he likes it when you take the lead

Big fan of showering together

I almost fucking forgot

He thinks you look hot in everthing obvs

But if you wear his boxers 

He goes apeshit

If you wear bras he likes the unlined sheer ones best on you

He also thinks you look really nice in boyshorts and cheekies

Esp the invisible microfiber ones

He likes how soft they are and how they just kind of seamlessly glide over your hips

If you play with his hair he practically starts purring

If you tug it really gently he moans

Just thought you should know that

Things get really intense in a good way with him

He gets very caught up in the heat of the moment

Has broken the bed before

And would do it again

Blitz and hearth almost walked in on you two cause they heard a loud crack and thought someone broke in

It was a very very close call

You laughed about it a lot later

He also likes things to be really soft and fluffy

So sleepy morning sex is definitely in his vocabulary

When he gets more comfortable he loves when you rest your head on his tummy and he can play with your hair and touch your shoulders

He also likes when you have your hand resting on his lower back

He finds it really grounding

Gives a lot of back hugs

Sometimes his head is resting on your head or shoulders

Sometimes he’s sucking on your neck

Just kinda depends yk

Really really likes it when you straddle him

Esp when you play with the hem of his clothes

You really really like to straddle him too

It’s a nice seat if you get what I’m sayin

Kind of wants to have shower sex with you but is also really scared of slipping and getting hurt

Settles for romantic bubble baths instead

Kind of stubbly, esp in the morning

It’s really cute

But kind of ouchie on more,,, sensitive areas

He’s usually fine staying a little stubbly, unless he’s planning to surprise you

You get a little excited when you see him shaving extra carefully

He sees you staring and just kind of looks you up and down and winks

Alksdjafskfja 

He likes having his hair longer

So do you

So you show him different ways to do little buns and stuff to keep it out of his face and stop it from getting tangled when he sleeps

Ngl you haven’t lived until you’ve seen magnus hard in his boxers kneeling over you hastily throwing up his hair so you can have some fun

That image is thankfully burned into your retinas for all eternity 

You get palpitations thinking about it

You’re the only one allowed to play with his hair or call him maggie/mags

He sometimes borrows your scrunchies and it’s really really cute

You end up with this little routine of swapping them when they stop smelling like the other person

If you don’t wear scrunchies you get him some and he thinks it’s adorable

You also steal them and swap them out when they don’t smell like him anymore

He loves having picnics outside with you

Especially to go stargazing

Yeah rooftop picnics are a thing

Plus people can’t really see what you’re doing and no one really goes up there so uh

As long as you can stay quiet you’re never bored

Sometimes when you’re stargazing his hand will just kind of gradually go from resting on your hip to wrapping his arms around you and having you lean against his chest

You sometimes raid the fridge together in the middle of the night

You took him to mcdonalds at like 2am once

It was not the last time that happened

Totally the type to love getting matching pj bottoms with you

Really loves it when you hold his hand with both of yours

It makes him feel really loved and masculine in a good healthy way and generally good

On days when he just Needs a Distraction you try any hobby or activity you can get your hands on

His favorites so far are painting each others nails, random online flash games like papa’s, finding the best climbing trees (weather permitting), and binge watching and reviewing the weirdest shows and movies you can find

Including but not limited to flava of love, josie and the pussycats in outer space, lightning point, and clone high

The movies are usually really low budget, or questionable teen romance movies like twilight, sierra burgess is a loser, the kissing booth etc. 

You still quote clone high to this day

He’s very excited for the reboot me too, magnus, me too

Doesn’t stop clowning on TJ bc of it

TJ has no fucking idea what he’s talking about 

“For the last time Magnus, I’m just named after him. I’m not a clone. I don’t know John Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln, and how could I possibly know Cleopatra??? Where are you getting this from, you understood this like a week ago-”

He really likes just kind of hugging you from behind and smooching wherever he can and swaying back and forth

Tells you he loves you a lot

Really really grateful you’re in his life

Does everything he possibly can to be the best boyfriend

Cause you deserve it

Did i mention he loves you a lot lot lot

Cause he really does

Treat him right, give him a lot of love 

He also blushes really easily shhh

[soullessmocha]

eyes wide open.

{ david the lost boys x reader }

rating: pg-13

word count: 1922

summary: the reader finds themselves in this picture perfect morning. yet with one simple phrase they questions their whole reality. what is really happening with them?

warnings: afab!reader, mind manipulation, false reality, picture perfect family, death, slight gore, pure sadness, soft!david, sad!david, afab reader, some sad sad shit, not proofread bc i wrote this so late at night.

a/n: i had major inspiration to write something for david. i have been watching a lot of wandavision. this show really inspired the plot and the general story of this fic. i hope you do enjoy! i broke my own heart writing this. and no there are no wandavision spoilers in this. 

A yelp leaves your lips as two tiny humans graze past you causing you to jolt almost spilling your scalding coffee. “Boys! No running in the kitchen!” You yell to the rambunctious twins as they run around giggling as they chase each other before making their way into the living room. A sigh leaves your lips in relief before the tired smile turns into a warm loving smile as a hand is placed on your waist and a stubbled kiss is placed on your neck. “Good morning,” you greet your husband after putting a hand on the back of his head to which he chuckles. David slowly makes his way to the front of you. “Good morning, I see you didn’t spill your coffee this time.” David’s sly comment causes you to roll your eyes as you set yourself at the kitchen island where a breakfast was waiting for you. “Yes, luckily. You know we need to take Marko and Bruce out more. Get all of that energy out. I don’t know where they get it from.” You state before taking a sip of your warm coffee, the warmth causes you to shiver with satisfaction. An airy laugh bursts through the kitchen, “Ah yes, to be young again.” David teases once again before leaning himself on the kitchen island admiring you from afar with his striking bright eyes . These moments of sweetness weren’t rare but it was rare for you to catch him admiring you and giving you the soft look that reminded you of how much he truly loves you.

A soft smile creeps its way to your lips and you flop your head to the side, feeling the rollers in your hair to catch your head from going any further on your shoulder. “You can say that again.” Another sip of the sweet coffee trails over your tongue and you hear him sight as he also grabs his coffee. “I miss it. Sleeping all day, partying all night…” David trails off as he fills his mouth with coffee, his face being partially blocked by the family portrait mug. You blink at the statement. Why did that strike a cord in your chest? Why did it feel like you’ve heard that before? It was as if your consciousness did a full turn about. You blink a few more times and you can see David notice your sudden distraught state. Subconsciously you look down at your ring finger where two dainty gold rings lay, one with a perfect circle diamond and the other a simple band, symbolizing your marriage to the man of your dreams. Yet you don’t remember anything about the wedding. Why couldn’t you remember your own wedding? Also you couldn’t remember moving into the house. You couldn’t remember giving birth to your own sons.

“Darling?” David asks as he carefully sets down his mug, his expression feigning concern. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He questions putting a hand on your back and rubbing low slow circles. Almost as if he was trying to ground you and bring you back to this reality. You shake your head, “What you just said-” you start but David only chuckles, “What? Being young again? I mean I’m sorry babe but we aren’t as young as we used to be.” You shake your head and stand pushing his hand away. “No, the other thing,” you start and look around the house carefully, looking at the family portraits from when the boys were newborns to the most recent Halloween photo that was framed perfectly adjacent to the fridge before focusing on your husband, “sleeping all day. Partying all night.” Then suddenly you hear his voice echo in your head and it hits you like a truck. “Never grow old… Never die.” Your words leave your lips in whispers. Suddenly your breathing picks up and your head starts to spin. Your chest heaves with each breath as anxiety and fear starts to fill your senses.

“What are you talking about, honey?” David asks with a seemingly worried and confused expression as he approaches you slowly. “Babe, you need to calm down. Take deep breaths, you’re starting to worry the boys.” he notes as the twins stand at the entrance of the open concept kitchen from the living room.

“No, no, no, don’t tell me to calm down David!” Your voice raises as you put a hand out to signal for him to keep his distance. The boys looked worried as well, almost as if you were scaring them. Were they even your kids? Are they a part of you? “Mom? Are you okay?” Marko, a little blonde boy asks you with wide eyes while his darker haired counterpart hid quietly behind him. “Go play outside sweetie, please.” You choke out as the boys hesitantly leave the kitchen hand in hand. David sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose starting to give up but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction. As the boys leave you point towards them with a shaking hand. You didn’t notice your whole body was trembling as memories flush to your mind overwhelming you. “David, wha- why- why can’t I remember anything?”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t start this. It’s too early in the morning for this.” David complains as he rests a hand on his hip of his neat chinos and white pristine button up shirt. He was dress as if he was ready for his 9-5 office job. Then the memories started to clash before your eyes. The bleached mullet, the gloves, the black trench coat. Yet here he was in front of you wearing a neat button up shirt with slacks and a brown belt. His hair was short and moving freely, no longer constricted by gel. “The boys? You can’t- I mean I can’t- We can’t do that!” You say in a loud tone and David tenses, his eyes slowly getting darker with each word you talk. “I don’t remember us getting married David! I don’t remember the birth of our boys! What are you doing? What is this David?” Your stance starts to get defensive as you keep your distance. David didn’t budge or say a thing. “David what the hell is going on?!” You yell, finally snapping. David blinks at your state, surprised as he looks at your long hair in distressed curlers, your robe hanging off your shoulder and your body trembling in fear and confusion.

“Y/N…” David starts trying to hold onto your hands but you rip them away on instinct. You know he had the ability to play mind tricks but this was on a different level. There are faint memories of you talking about wanting a family and kids before you made your choice. You chose to be with him forever, you chose to sacrifice all of those things to be with him. Why was he doing this? Your brows furrow in hurt and disbelief. “What are you doing to me?” You choke out as tears brim your eyes blurring the fine line between the realities you were in. You could see half of him with the striking bright blond hair and donned all in black. Yet the other half was a natural blonde, with clean shave and neat clothes on. “Y/N, I can’t let you go like this.” David whispers, he was now cornering you. Yet you didn’t feel in danger, you felt concerned but not threatened by his nature. “Please, don’t do this right now.” Was he begging you to stop? David never did that. Not the David you knew. That David always got his way and did everything he could. He would never resort to requesting for someone to stop doing something.

“Don’t do what right now? David, what is happening to me?” You ask and this time you close the gap between the two of you. Your hands cupping his cheeks as you search grey-speckled blue eyes. “What do you mean you can’t let me go like this?” You questions again holding his face searching for answers in his deadpan expression. David only sighs and shakes his head, not knowing what to say or do. “Please David, I don’t want to be in a lie anymore…” You beg in a hushed tone pressing your forehead against his and holding him close. As you held his warm body it soon turned cool, no longer as if there was any body heat radiating off of him. Then you were numb. Your eyes were shut close as you felt his forehead touch yours but they slowly opened when he pulled away. It revealed a house you weren’t too familiar with. There was pressure in your chest as if the whole world was crashing down on it. David was kneeling in front of you. The only thing keeping you two apart was the large steak driven into a part in your chest inches away from your heart.

A soft whimper leaves your lips as they tremble in the crushing weight of the reality. He was doing this to send you off one last time. To give you the lasting memory of the thing he thought you deserved the most. A normal life. “Shhh,” he hushes you and pets your head trying to calm you. You were wet and sticky with an oozing dark liquid. You were cold. Yet you were still awake. “I didn’t want to send you off like this,” David starts his eyes boring into yours in almost a hypnotic way. You could see his eyes gloss over, he too was in pain. You could only shake your head for it was too hard to talk with all the pressure. Your hand grasps his and presses it against your cheek. It was his bare hand, something so rare to hold and feel. Even the action of kissing his palm made your body tense and seize from the pain. “Thank you,” you whisper into his palm holding it close. David gives a sigh of defeat and brings his forehead close to yours once again, pressing them together in unison. One hand held your face while the other held your waist. How badly he wanted to close the gap between the two of you.

Suddenly with the blink of an eye you were back in the reality you now know as false. David pulls away from you and the boys come to his side. Your two beautiful boys wrap their arms around you. Tears fall from your eyes and trail off your cheek. You hiccup from a quiet sob as you hold them close. Kissing both of their foreheads you pull away gently. You look at David and approach him wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a loving kiss to his lips. Your grip on him was deadly. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. David can only smirk and press another chaste kiss and hug you once more. He admired your scent one last time before he knew it was time. “I love you too,” he replies before pressing his forehead into yours. Then your world faded to black, nothingness, stillness, almost deafening.

David pulls away from your lifeless body that was slumped against the wall. A single tear falls from his eye and he is quick to wipe it away. “I will see you again soon,” he whispers into the air before stepping back where his boys were waiting for him. All of their faces distraught with sadness and fear for their brother.

[gra-sonas]

In regards to your last ask and answer (totally agree about everything you said about the facial hair). Didn’t Jeanine say that they were doing a time jump to the end of covid? I might be making things up but I thought I remembered she said that when she did that m&g a couple months ago because it had everyone wondering how long of a time jump they were going for and if they were actually gonna reference the fallout of the pandemic or just ignore it. Thanks for everything! Hope you are having a great day!

Okay, I just listened to it again. In her chat with @alexmanesss​, Jeanine said the following:

“We do have like a couple little nods and winks about [Covid times], but this is in a post Covid world. […] Totally, it saved us, that like year time jump. So, you know, we’re in like a post Covid world. The dream!”

A “year time jump” into a “post Covid world” - that would mean since the beginning of S2 - when Alex re-enlisted - and the beginning of S3, roughly 2 years have passed. One year on screen during S2, and one year off screen during the time jump.

I did some research about minimum re-enlistment periods, and while Navy and Army offer 2 year re-enlistment periods, it’s a minimum of 4 years for the US Air Force. 

The only way Alex could’ve enlisted for just “2 more years” would’ve been, if he’d been in the middle (so 2 years in) of a 4 year re-enlistment at the time of re-enlisting. Then he’d still have 2 years left to serve tho. This option’s not applicable anyway bc it was said on the show that Alex’s enlistment was coming to an end soon, and he was looking forward to his discharge when he made the decision to re-enlist at the beginning S2.

That leaves 3 options for Alex’s military career at the beginning of S3:

Alex continues to serve [the remaining 2 years of his current re-enlistment period] and they’ll handwave the longer hair and stubble

They ignore the “real” Air Force’s 4 year re-enlistment period rule and pretend he’s able to get his honorable discharge after just 2 years - at the beginning of, or early on in S3.

They come up with another reason why Alex leaves or left the Air Force before his current re-enlistment period ends. 

Re option 3: Not sure if there’s an honorable discharge option that’d allow him to leave early - maybe for medical reasons? Otherwise, it’d most likely be a dishonorable discharge, and that’s what I’d hate the most. 

Alex may not have chosen to join the Air Force initially, but he worked his butt off (and got his leg blown off!), and he became a Captain before he even turned 30 (outranking his own father!). You don’t achieve that kind of career by being lazy or bad at your job. I don’t want them to take that from him (and then make him pretend he’s okay with it). DON’T TAKE THAT FROM HIM!

[starstaiined]

Memories

SUMMARY: All Kat ever wanted was a normal life. A life unhindered by the trauma she faced, a life where raised voices didn’t send her heart racing, a life where any accidental contact with strangers didn’t violently thrust her into memories she would give anything to forget. But as more and more memories of past lives begin to surface on top of her existing trauma, that dream seems to move farther and farther away. Suddenly the weight of worlds settled on fragile shoulders, and then the cost of escaping it all didn’t seem so high...

TW: Sexual abuse, anxiety attack, depression, suicidal ideation

TAGGING : @tonight-we-are-live (bc ur the one who asked for angst tonight)

   Hands inched up her thigh, and she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Katherine laid still, petrified, as the man hovering above her whispered an array of words she couldn’t process. His face, half hidden by shadows, seemed to shift endlessly. First, it was Mannox. His lips twitched into a too sharp smile, which stayed in place even as the rest of his face changed. Some dude with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes came next, a memory from a different life she was sure. Another man, this time with stubble which scratched the side of her face when he leaned close. “I love you so much, Katherine.” When he pulled back, he had changed again. This time it was Dereham’s face. His eyes darkened and shifted to a brown so dark it was nearly black, his nose so small it was nearly non existent. After a few more seconds of shifting, it finally settled on him. Thomas Culpeper. “I love you, Katherine.” As he smiled up at her, she finally managed to scream. His hand shot forward, covering her mouth roughly. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” He squeezes so tightly she’s sure her jaw is going to bruise, and her eyes burn with tears...

   And suddenly Katherine shoots awake in bed. She’s covered in sweat, her heart pumping harder than it did after a show. She can’t stop the sob that escapes her throat, a stifled thing that gets stuck halfway through and comes out as an almost whine. Anne shifts in the bed next to her. It takes everything in Kat to hold in the building storm. She doesn’t want to wake her cousin, or the other queens. She doesn’t want to bother them. Quiet as her namesake, she slips on a pair of slippers and creeps out of the room. She needs out. The walls of the house are suddenly stifling, and without pausing to so much as grab a sweater she disappears through the arched doorway. 

   The winter air nips painfully at her exposed skin, but in truth it helps ground her. If she focus on the pain of the cold, then she doesn’t have to think about the images filling her head. Memories, memories, memories. They came back slowly, each one materializing like smoke over an extinguished candle, wrapping around her and dragging her further and further away from recovery. In some ways, it was almost funny: she’d lived hundred of different lives in hundreds of different places, yet the story was always the same. She couldn’t escape it even if she tried. (And oh, how she tried.) She let out a scoff at that, running a hand roughly through her hair. The cold isn’t keeping her thoughts at bay any longer, and if she thinks about them for another second she’ll end up crying. As is, tears prick the edges of her eyes. She rubs at them roughly, and makes a decision. Run. It starts off as a jog, but it builds and soon she’s flying down the sidewalks and turning corners at full speed, the feel of her feet pumping underneath her cathartic. 

   She ran until her aching muscles couldn’t move anymore, at which point she all but collapsed on a park bench. Kat was sure of one thing: she was thoroughly lost. She’d spent the last hour running, not paying attention to where she turned. It’s only now that she regrets that choice. She wants to go home...she wants to talk to Anne and hug Jane and laugh with Anna. She could call them, they would come and find her and...and you’d wake them up for your own selfish reasons. A little voice in the back of her mind finished; it’s that voice that makes her hand freeze in place. Always so needy. Always tugging at their sleeves and making them bend to your will. It’s all about Kat, isn’t it? The voice continues to prod, and Kat’s hands begin to shake. She curls them into fists, letting her nails bite into her palm, but it does nothing to ease the voice this time. It’s why Mannox could never love you. It’s why Dereham left. It’s why Henry was always angry. You ask for too much, Katherine. You are too much. They would be better off without you. 

   Some part, deep down, protests. But the rest of her is all too willing to accept what the voice said. After all, it was true. If she wasn’t around, they wouldn’t have to tread so lightly around her. She remembered the time Jane has squeezed her shoulder gently after they’d first met, before they were close, remembered the way the sudden and unexpected contact has caused Kat to spiral into an anxiety attack. Her stomach rolls at the memory. It had been a kind gesture, but she’d overreacted. She remembers suddenly the way Jane had spent the next couple of weeks apologizing. After that incident, Jane had never looked at her the same way. None of them had. They handled her with kid gloves, always soft and kind and understanding, but also wary. Cautious. As if they were scared that if they said or did something wrong, Kat would shatter. What she hated most was that they were right. The smallest thing could send her hurtling back to a different time and leave her trembling and unable to speak. She loathed herself in that moment. Everyone else spent so much time and energy making sure she was okay, if she just disappeared things would be so much easier on them. 

   In an almost trance, she rises and begins to wander. She’s disconnected from reality at this point. When she reaches the bridge, the idea slips into her mind. In truth...it’d been there longer than she cared to admit. But now....now it’s real. It’s like watching a show happen on the television. Kat watches her hands grab onto the railing, watches as she swings her legs over and sits on the side. Her feet dangle precariously over the rushing river below. All she had to do was lean forward just a little and ... 

   Her phone rang. She ignored it. It rang again. And again. Finally, she reaches for it with shaking fingers. She answers it, and Jane’s worried voice comes bursting to life. “Kitty, where are you?” 

  “I don’t know.” Kat answered, her voice sounding dead to her own ears. 

  She can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone, and mumbled words she can’t quite catch. (Not that she’s trying. She’s too numb to try.) 

  “Kit, honey, are you okay?” She can hear the rising concern in Jane’s tone, and it makes something stir in her chest. But as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it’s gone. She shrugged, not answering Jane’s question. 

  She can hear scuffling on the other end, and when the next question comes it’s Anne’s voice. “Kat, babe, do you remember the time we went ice skating?” That story had always drawn a groan or a protest out of Kat, but this time she gives no response. If Anne is worried, she doesn’t let it show. She continues on rambling about various memories, Jane chiming in occasionally. Kat doesn’t laugh....but she doesn’t hang up either. 

  Eventually, however, she hears her name being called. She turns and looks to find....Anna, Cathy, and Catherine. The looks on their faces — horror, panic, and fear — finally snaps Kat out of her haze. She realizes what she was about to do. Tears well in her eyes, and her mouth opens to provide an excuse, a defense, anything, but nothing comes out. 

  Anna is the first to speak. “Kitty, can you come off the ledge, please? Slowly, please be careful.” 

  Kat listens, and once her feet are on solid ground she’s enveloped by the other three queens. 

  “Jesus Christ, Kat, you’re freezing.” Aragon huffed, pulling off her sweater and wrapping it around the younger girl. 

  The sudden warmth made her realize just how cold she’d been. Slowly, she manged to croak out a question. “How did...how did you guys find me?” 

  Cathy answered, slowly, as they walked her back to the car. “We traced your phone. Anne and Jane were supposed to keep you on the line while we went out to pick you up.” The drive home is in silence. 

  When they finally reach the house, Anne nearly crushes her in a hug. The other three queens quietly talk to Jane about what they’d found while Anne fussed over her younger cousin. Then, they switched. Jane fussed over Kat while Aragon talked to Anne. 

   Cathy had disappeared into the kitchen to make hot cocoa, and Anna had dug around until she found some of Kat’s favorite movies. While Aragon talked to Anne, Jane had buried a shivering Katherine in a pile of blankets.

   Once everyone finished their tasks, they reconvened on the couch. Kat sat at the center of the rest of the girls, five pairs of eyes trained on her. finally, Anne broke the silence. 

  “Kit, you know you can always talk to us, right?” It was soft, perhaps softer than she had ever heard Anne go before. 

  Kitty let out a shaky breath, looking down. “I didn’t want to bother you.” 

  “You are never bothering us, Kat. Especially not when it comes to something like memories.” Anna whispered, squeezing her hand gently. 

Cathy nodded. “Good, or bad, we’re here. You don’t have to deal with everything alone. No one expects you to, Kat.” 

“You already deal with so much. I’m ... I’m a handful, and-” 

“And we all have two hands.” Aragon interrupted, her voice gentle. “You help us with our issues, Kat, and we’re here to help with yours. And nothing will ever change that.”

“Besides,” Jane added, pulling the youngest girl in close and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “We do it because we love you, Kitty.” 

Love had always been a dangerous word. Her entire life, the word had been mangled and twisted and corrupted to reflect the worst version of itself. But amidst the tangle of limbs and careful concern, Katherine realized that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t always so bad. 

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: “A dare is a dare.”

Author’s note: This is the much-requested sequel to Chapter 63: Drowning Secrets in the Sea, found in my Klaroline series, A Beautiful Symmetry.

Warning: Casual references to drugs

Please review here.

           “This is your idea of an adventure?”

           Caroline whipped her head around, mouth curving up into a pleased grin as she took in Klaus’ rumpled appearance. “Your university’s still skimping on the travel budget, huh? You know, just because they pay for coach doesn’t mean you have to fly it.”

           “Not all of us can afford first class, sweetheart,” Klaus replied, pulling Caroline to her feet and playfully spinning her around the cramped basement.

           She kissed one of his dimpled cheeks, suddenly giddy and hopeful. He was here. She honestly hadn’t known what to expect when she sent him the artifacts and GPS coordinates. “Seriously? Just because I fly first class, doesn’t mean I actually pay for it.” At his amused chuckle, she allowed herself to press into him, his warmth and familiar scent washing over her. She’d missed him more than she’d cared to admit. It only had been a couple of weeks since he’d let her walk away, angry and hurt by what she’d done.

           “Are you still mad at me,” she asked tentatively, stepping away to give herself a bit of space for this conversation.

           He hesitated, running his fingers through his disheveled curls a few times before he finally spoke. “You pretended to be an archeologist to gain access to priceless artifacts that my father commissioned you to steal. You could’ve ruined my academic career — everything I’ve ever worked for.”

           She bowed her head, her heart sinking in her chest. Did he come all this way just to tell her off?

           “But then you also didn’t go through with it and came back to save my life,” he continued, his tone a bit shaky. “I’ve missed you every moment since you left,” he confessed, standing in front of her once more, his touch tender as he caressed her cheek. “And I’m tired of missing you, love.”

           Their kiss was nothing like their first one — while that night in the bar had been hesitant, now their kiss was frantic; fueled by the past deception and a tentative promise of forgiveness. He tasted like her future. And Caroline had no intention of walking away from it twice. “I missed you too,” she admitted, placing kisses along his jawline.

           It was when he started to untie the silken knot at her waist that she snapped back to reality. With a sigh of regret, she gently pushed away, telling him, “We’ll need to pick this up later — a business associate is meeting me here in a minute.”

           Klaus looked skeptically around the dusty room, asking, “What sort of business meeting could you have down here?”

           “The private kind.” She considered him carefully, bending down to scoop up a few dusty books and folders to shove into his arms. “So, I don’t want you to freak out, but we’re meeting a kind of go-between for a gunrunnermobbossguy — but don’t worry! He’s totally safe and I’ve worked with him before.” She winced as she saw his gray eyes grow wide with alarm despite the fact that she’d hoped her rapid-fire words wouldn’t really register.

           “Did you just say we’re meeting with a ‘gunrunner mob boss’? Bloody hell, Caroline!”

           She rolled her eyes, checking her watch as she corrected him. “He’s a go-between. He’s not actually a gunrunner mob boss. He just works for one.”

           “How is that any better? And how are you going to explain me? What’s my cover?”

           Caroline snorted. Klaus was adorable when he panicked. “Calm down, James Bond. You’re playing the role of a nervous archaeologist completely out of his depth. Something tells me you’ll pull that off beautifully.” At his grumpy expression, she impulsively poked one of his dimples, telling, him, “Where’s your adventurous spirit? You know you want to embrace it — otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”  

           “I’d thought we’d start with dinner,” he mumbled, a hint of a smile starting to appear the longer he looked at her.  

           “Perhaps you can postpone your plans a bit, mate? We’re on a bit of a deadline,” interrupted a cocky voice as heavy footsteps finished descending the stairs into the basement.

           Caroline instantly went into her work persona, adapting her stance and demeanor to best put Galen at ease. “Galen Vaughn, you slimy bastard, the next time you let me borrow a grappling hook, make sure you didn’t break off one of the ends on Kangchenjunga Peak.”

           His blue eyes crinkled with mirth, cuffing her on the shoulder as he said jovially, “You managed a’right, didn’t you, lass? If memory serves, you repaid me in kind when you sold me out to the Germans.”

           “Looks like it worked out alright for you — considering you’re now their go-between.” Sharpening her tone slightly, she decided to move the meeting along. “Tell me the specs and deadline.”

           “Two spear points about 12 centimeters each. Day after next.” He nodded toward Klaus. “Who’s this?”

           Caroline kept her tone light as she explained, “This is Klaus, my expert. He’ll authenticate on-site.”

           As though to make up for her non-committal introduction, Klaus sprang forward, shaking Galen’s hand a bit too enthusiastically. “I’m an archaeologist. I can identify artifacts from 3000 BC to AD 500. While my main expertise in in classical antiquity, I have completed extensive fieldwork in Bronze and Iron Age dig sites. In fact, I lectured extensively on the evolution of the battle ax and advanced smelting techniques. It actually was quite fascinating how groundbreaking their metalsmiths were...” he trailed off, somewhat self-conscious when he noted Caroline’s indulgent smile. “Anyway...I uh, like...old things.”

           Did Klaus purposely make his accent deeper because Galen has a Scottish accent? “Right. As you can see, we’ve got this,” she told Galen dryly.

           “I’m impressed you’d take such an eager partner,” Galen replied skeptically, “he seems quite green, lass.”

           Since it looked like Klaus was squaring off to punch a friend of one of the most dangerous mobs in Eastern Europe, Caroline hastily shook Galen’s hand, sealing their deal. “Day after next,” she told him solemnly. He left with little more than a curt nod, his jovial demeanor instantly replaced by a more disquieting nature. Such was the way of this business.

           “Bollocks. Between the dodgy codes and the wanker with the pretentious facial hair, I’m a bit lost as to our mission, sweetheart.”

           She cheerfully answered, “It’s no big deal — we just need to infiltrate a party tonight and steal some Bronze Age artifacts so we can sell them to this gunrunner mob boss I know.” At his incredulous expression, she winked and added, “And you have stubble too.”

           “Clearly mine’s better.”

           Caroline softened her tone, noting the wariness in Klaus’ gray eyes. “If you want out, I get it. No hard feelings, ok?”

           “It’s not that; I’d just like to know what I’m getting into.” His gaze was penetrating, as though searching for something. “Why put yourself in danger? There’s a larger gain than just riches, isn’t there?”

           She crossed her arms, not comfortable giving so much of herself away. But she needed to learn. “Mikael took my mother off the donor’s list so that I’d work for him. When I killed him, I lost my one chance to get her name restored. My only option is a black-market kidney and this job will get me the cash I need to make that happen.”

           The kiss he gave her was electric; it burned her all the way to her toes and she arched into him, a tiny little moan escaping. “Does this mean you’re in?”

           That devilish smirk of his was all the answer she needed.

                               _________________________________  

           The estate was stubbornly built on the marshes along the coast of the Baltic Sea, proving that even the immensely wealthy could be ignorant dipshits. Caroline critically eyed the tall rooftops of the main house and its surrounding buildings, the crooked lines wordlessly demonstrating that everything was slowly sinking, eventually to be reclaimed by the sea. She could feel Klaus tensing beside her, and she patted his arm affectionately. “Relax — the doorman is barely coherent after his wild night at the Hunter’s Mark. He’s barely going to glance at our invitation, and even if he did, it’s been expertly forged.” She gave him a sly wink, adding, “By me.”

           “How do you know what he was up to last night,” he whispered back, eyes darting around the ornate courtyard of marble statues.

           “Because I paid off his dealer to ensure he never ran out,” she answered matter-of-factly, favoring the pale, sweaty doorman with a sunny smile as she handed over the ivory parchment invitation she’d painstakingly threaded with gold along the borders to match the genuine ones. As she suspected, they were waived inside with barely a glance, and she smugly handed Klaus a champagne flute.

           “Impressive,” he murmured, casting curious glances around the immense ballroom with its 10-piece orchestra quietly playing chamber music.

           “Yeah, they’re pretty impressive. The Martins have been running drugs out of Kiel for decades; their territory is perfectly situated to take advantage of the port. They launder much of their profits with a string of online boutiques set up by the younger siblings, Greta and Luka,” she murmured, snatching a smoked salmon canape from a silver serving tray.

           Klaus seemed to slowly relax as he acclimated to his surroundings, a bemused look on his face as he eyed the cascading fountain of champagne flowing from a beautifully crafted ice sculpture in the center of the room. “I meant you were impressive, sweetheart. You’re brilliant, remarkably talented, and adventurous — enviable qualities the rest of the world only dreams of possessing.” He leaned in, his accented voice low and sexy as he added, “Not to mention your ethereal, utterly enchanting beauty.”

           There went her heart doing that fluttery thing again. He already was wearing the hell out of that Tom Ford tuxedo, but then to have him whisper those things — things that maybe she’d heard before but no one ever really meant — made her want to shove him into that gold leaf and pearl-tiered cake and lick the buttercream off.

           As though pleased she was rendered momentarily speechless, Klaus suddenly gripped her waist, spinning her onto the polished marble floor. His touch was commanding, but not forceful, which she appreciated. Almost as much as his smooth muscles underneath her touch.  The red satin of her dress wound its way between them as Klaus performed surprisingly intricate footwork.

           At her small gasp of surprise, Klaus flashed her a dimpled smirk. “I may have a few moves.”

           “Nice moves,” she said, a bit breathless as he led her through a reverse spin that had her momentarily crowded against his chest. She couldn’t help but rest her palm against his chest. Firm, but it was more than that — he felt like a steady person. Someone she could trust. “Mystic Falls, Virginia.” At his questioning brow, she explained, “It’s where I’m from. Well, we bounced around a lot of big cities when I was a kid, but that’s where we finally stayed.” She hesitated, unsure of how he’d react. It was a big step — and one she’d never taken before. “My mom still lives there...maybe, um, you’d like to meet her?”

           At Klaus’ stunned silence, she hurriedly backtracked, telling him, “No, I get it — it’s probably way too soon for that. I’vejustneverbeenlikethiswithanyone and I’m not sure what the steps are. But I can figure it out. Seriously, I can be good at steps. All the steps. Probably. It’s just that I need to head back there for a bit once we get our business here settled and her kidney secured and I know it’s a lot to ask —”

           “I’d be honored,” he quickly answered, kissing her soundly. “And it’s certainly not a chore to get to know you better, love,” he admonished when he broke the kiss, dipping her until she giggled with relief.

           Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight commotion as the aerial silk acrobats had arrived and were starting to set up in the main courtyard. Perfect. “Follow me,” she whispered in his ear, casually leading him down a narrow corridor full of priceless artwork resplendent with inlaid lapis lazuli and hammered silver frames. “While most of the guests are distracted, we need to get what we came for — two Bronze Age spear points.”

           They stopped in front of a tall glass case, admiring the artifacts perched on a carved ebony pedestal. “They were unearthed in the muddy riverbed of the Tollense Valley. It’s a unique find for the region, marking a significant battle around 3200 years ago. Archaeometallurgical studies have pinpointed the geological origin of the metals’ composition, which means you can trace the route these spear points took to get to the valley.”

           “Except determining the geological origin of the metals isn’t infallible when you take into consideration the various ore ingots used along trade routes as currency. So, your premise, while admirable, is flawed.”

           “My premise is flawed?! Are you seriously discounting all of the cutting-edge work Drs. Maxfield and Branson published in the American Journal of Archaeology? Or the Nordic Bronze Age metallurgy expertise of Dr. Hildegard,” Caroline hissed, feeling her temper rise. She’d just started to recite the latest research statistics on copper-based metals across Bronze Age Europe when she noticed the tips of his ears growing red. Suddenly, she burst into giggles at the ridiculousness of the situation.

           Klaus’ confusion gave way to amusement as he too started chuckling. “We’re never going to agree, are we?”

           “Nope. But where’s the fun in that,” she asked, leaning over to kiss him soundly on the lips. She broke off the kiss with a twinkle in her eye, sticking out her leg to take advantage of the deep slit in her dress in order to access her lock pick kit. She deftly worked at the enormous mechanism lock behind the glass case, rolling her eyes at the Martins’ foolish assumption that bigger was better when it came to security.

           The interlocking tumblers easily gave way, and as she carefully opened the glass door, Klaus murmured, “You make burglary sexier than it has any right to be, sweetheart.”

           “Sweet talker,” Caroline replied fondly, delicately sliding the spear points into the leather strap across her thigh. “If you’re lucky, I might let you help me remove these later. Artifacts require such a gentle touch, you know.”

           From that lustful gleam, it seemed he was ready to take her up on her offer sooner rather than later, but unfortunately, they had company. From the heavy black eyeliner and holdover grunge ensembles, she knew exactly who had found them. “Shit. It’s the Travelers.” She quickly pulled Klaus up a narrow staircase, explaining, “So, maybethere’s also this cult of crazy fanatics who are interested in the spear points. They’re convinced some ancient ancestor was a powerful witch who disturbed the natural balance and was cast out of her community.”

           With a troubled sigh that turned into a choked laugh, he pulled loose his bowtie as they hid out on a balcony, staring down at the courtyard very far below. “And what does that nonsense have to do with our artifacts?”

           He said ‘our’. It inexplicably filled her with warmth and she again had to tamp down those lusty thoughts. Action now — then some real action later. “It’s kind of hard to follow and has more embarrassing plot holes than a CW show, but supposedly there was a curse that had something to do with doppelgangers, massive earthquakes and possibly a boat anchor and they think these artifacts will somehow break the curse.”  

           He scoffed, but whatever skeptical diatribe he was about to begin was stopped short when there was a loud banging on the double doors to the room where they’d been hiding. Glancing over the balcony once more, he wryly asked, “Does your skillset include flying?”

           Following his line of sight, she spied some of the aerial silks the acrobats had hung for their performance. As the edges of the jewel-toned fabrics fluttered near the balcony, she asked, “Are you daring me to jump out this window and slide down a curtain?”

           Wincing a bit at the sound of wood starting to splinter from the psycho cult just outside, he told her, “Perhaps I found my adventurous spirit.”

           “Fine. But we’re jumping together.”

           Klaus smirked, grabbing her by the waist as they each clutched the sturdy fabric. “I suppose a dare is a dare.”

[sortasirius]

In Stitches

Pairing: Dean/Cas because I’m predictable

AN: This is way longer than I thought it would be and is very fluffy and sort of a 15x02/15x03 coda?  I mean it’s not gonna happen but a girl can dream.

Warnings: None really, just a little Supernatural-like violence and a lot of fluff, my opinions of what’s on The Mixtape lmao

Words: 1640 bc I know no chill.

On my AO3 here.

Cas is bleeding.

He’s used to it now, the stinging pain of the night air on the open wound on his arm, the warm trickles of blood turning cool as they hit the air.  He had been hurt in the last eleven years more than he had in the last ten thousand, but that was just a part of being a Winchester he supposed.

Dean throws him a towel, shoving Sam, who is semi-conscious, in the front seat, while Belphegor scrambles in next to Cas and Rowena is already settled in the back, breathing hard. Cas holds the towel to his arm, turning it from white it deep red, as Dean peals off and starts hauling ass in the direction of the Bunker.

Needless to say, their latest plot to stop the hundreds of ghosts Chuck had released into the world had not gone so well.  Rowena had tried everything; some of the most powerful magic in the known Universe, but in they had burst, hundreds of them, while Sam, Dean, Cas tried their best to take out as many as they could, there’s only so much three of them can do.  Rowena was weak from the spell and it’s not like Belphegor was chomping at the bit to help, so they had fought their way to the Impala and booked it out of there.

They screech into the Bunker’s garage at around 3 in the morning.  Dean and Cas half carry, half drag Sam to his room, where Cas uses the last of his energy to heal every wound he can find on Sam.  There’s nothing he can do about the wound in Sam’s shoulder, which is changing rapidly, turning from red to green to purple and then back to red.  He and Dean look at each other as Sam sleeps between them.

“This doesn’t look good, Dean.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I can’t heal this.”

Dean sighs, looking at Sam,

“Thanks Cas, you did all you could.”

Dean looks over at him, green eyes catching blue.

“Let me stitch that up, I know you spent all your mojo on him.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

They end up in Dean’s room, Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, sinking into the memory foam that Dean is so proud of, while Dean pulls his desk chair around, setting up shop on the bedside table.  Hydrogen peroxide, thread, a sterilized needle, soap and water, clean bandages, all the things that Cas had seen Dean use a thousand times.  Cas looks around for Dean, and finds him in front of his stereo and cassette tapes.

“Can’t stitch you up in silence.”

A moment passes, and Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tape that Dean had given him.  Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx.  Dean flits a smile at him and sets it into the stereo.  “When the Levee Breaks” starts playing gently, and Dean sets to work on Cas’s arm.

The cut is deep, and stings worse than ever when Dean starts cleaning the blood away with the peroxide.  He stiffens and sucks a breath in.

“Don’t be a baby.”

But Dean is gentle when he continues, cleaning the blood away.  It takes them three songs to get through the cleaning.  “Black Dog” and “Bring it on Home” follow “When the Levee Breaks, and Dean hums as he threads his needle and starts carefully sewing Cas up.  Neat and identical stitches, like a line of soldiers.

“How’d this happen anyway?” Dean asks, as “You Shook Me” fades to “Custard Pie.”

“I’m not sure.  It was either the clown or the tall faceless man with the axe.”

Dean scoffs.

“You take care of him?”

“You mean did I shoot him with salt?  Indeed I did.”

Cas hopes he isn’t imagining the pride on Dean’s face.

Dean continues to stitch, tongue between his teeth, and Cas watches him unashamedly, the furrow between his eyebrows, the three day stubble on his cheeks, the scratches on his face from one of the ghosts.

“I should have healed you before we started.”

“Huh?” Dean meets his eyes again.  Trees meeting water.

“That’s okay, Cas, they’re just scratches.”

They fall back into silence.  The steady beat of “Kashmir” replaces “Stairway to Heaven.”

As Dean finishes he stitches, he runs his hand down Cas’ arm, admiring his handiwork.

“You are very good at this.”

Dean’s eyes flick to him again.  His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and Cas tries his best not to stare.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Dean tests the water with his hands as “For Your Life” plays.

“I can finish up if you-”

“No, that’s okay.”

Dean takes his arm again, warm skin on warm skin, and starts cleaning the dried blood around the now neat stitches running their way up Cas’ forearm. It takes some time, three more songs to be precise. “Whole Lotta Love,” “I Can’t Quit You Baby” and, one of Cas’ favorites “How Many More Times.”

He still remembers when Dean gave him the tape.  It was one of the only times he had ever seen Dean shy, but he had come to Cas with his eyes to the floor, more red in the face than he ever would have admitted, and had pushed the tape into Cas’ hands.  Cas remembered reading the label and looking up at Dean, knowing how much this meant to him.

“They go from 13 to 1.  The last one is my favorite.  Took me 45 minutes to pick which one was last,” he had said with a shy smile.  He refused to listen to it with him,

“I don’t want to influence you.”

Cas had spent the whole night listening to the tape over and over, making notes in a notebook, and he knocked on Dean’s door the next morning.

“The last three are my favorite.  Especially “How Many More Times.””

Dean’s face split into a radiant smile, the kind of smile that made Cas feel like he was standing in the sun on a spring day.

“That’s a great one, one of my favorites.  Obviously, I guess.”

Suddenly, he’s taken out of the memory by a stab of pain.  Dean is back on his arm with the peroxide.

“That hurts, Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry, but you don’t want to get an infection.”

“Well, you know I can’t actually-”

“Ok Cas.”

As the final notes of “Traveling Riverside Blues” play on the stereo, Dean straightens up.

“Ok, you should be fine.”

Cas stretches his arm, wincing as the muscles strain.

“If you rip those stitches I’ll kick your ass.”

Cas smiles at him.

“I suppose I should go find Rowena and Belphegor, make sure they’re not in trouble.”

“Hey Cas,” said Dean, catching his arm, his good arm, that is, “What did you mean back in...”

He trails off, clearly not wanting to finish his sentence.  Is he embarrassed or just afraid.  Cas is definitely afraid, he’s always afraid when it comes to losing Dean.  Who would have thought, Heaven’s most devoted soldier turned into something Heaven never intended for him, something almost human.

“Dean, I believe that no matter what, Chuck cannot take away what we mean to each other,” he pauses, not wanting to make Dean uncomfortable, “You, me, Sam.”

Dean wilts a little.

“Oh.”

He starts to walk away, and Cas suddenly feels like he’s holding water that’s slipping through his fingers.

“Dean I just meant-”

Right on cue, the last song on the tape clicked on.  Dean’s favorite, “Ramble On.”  Dean pauses, looking from the stereo back to Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath, looks at Cas, and starts speaking too quickly.

“It’s just that, I really thought that, when we were talking, that you were, that maybe it was, I don’t know, that it was you and me.  That you meant that you and me, what we have is real. That-” he breaks off, “I don’t know.”

Cas takes a step towards Dean, almost unconsciously.  His brain has almost turned off, all he can see is Dean, he isn’t even thinking about what he’s saying.

“I did mean that, Dean.  I do mean that.  I just...I didn’t know how to say it,or if was even right to say it.”

Dean takes another step towards him.

“Yeah well, neither of us are really great with feelings.”

They’re inches away from each other now.  It’s not like they ever had any idea of personal space, but there is something different about this, like someone has picked up a barrier between them.  Cas is desperately aware of the heat coming off of Dean, how hard they are both breathing, how the tips of his fingers tingle with energy, longing to reach out and touch.

Cas is barely aware of the silence in the room.  The mixtape had ended, but it feels like there’s almost a roar in his ears.  Fittingly, they lean forward simultaneously, bridging the gap and giving into what was almost eleven years of sheer buildup.

Cas shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but the softness of Dean, how gently he pulls Cas towards him, how softly he threads his fingers through Cas’ hair.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, pressed flush against each other, but it’s long enough that they hear Sam stirring in the room next to them.  They pull away, Cas missing Dean’s touch immediately.  Dean reaches up and brushes his thumb along Cas bottom lip.  Cas leans into him, and they stay that way for several moments, before they hear Sam stumbling down the hallway, calling their names.

“Just for the record,” Dean says, smiling at Cas as he stands at the door, “I’m glad that you and me are real.”

Cas smiles back at him, running his hands down the neat stitches on his arm.

“Me too.”

[faemytho]

ds // onebizarrekai

so uh. tobin has some really nice headcanons.

tags: transphobia, homophobia, implied sexual assault, implied murder, coming out story, internal misgendering, unintentional misgendering

this is also very unedited bc im Tired, gay, and pls look at these trans boys i love them

-------------

The seed of a thought first planted itself when Dream had talked about her to the villagers. He'd been gesturing gently, spine ramrod straight and poised into the perfect picture of composure. A particularly nasty one yelled loud enough for Nightmare to hear.

"She's a witch, and she protects nothing but trouble!"

Nightmare had hidden under the covers the whole day after that, squishing her chest uncomfortably against the mattress and feeling sick to her stomach.

Dream didn't bother her.

----

She cursed, stumbling over the uneven pavement, her cape flying out behind her. Stupid fucking guards. Stupid fucking justice initiative. Where was her justice, huh?

"Did you think of that, Dream?" She muttered, slipping around a corner and inside the building she'd just rounded. She didn't stay long, fleeing out the back. She hated her voice, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She didn't exactly have time to either. You didn't have time to sit and dawdle when your best fucking friend was trying to hunt you down with his freaky ass wings and new glowing eyes and spouting off the same nonsense she'd heard from the villagers her whole life. She figured it was something that would happen, Dream turning against her, but she never thought he would go this far, to this degree. And it hurt.

Holding her breath, she pressed herself against the wall, peeking around the corner. Clear.

She'd live another day.

----

"Oh, Margaret, did you hear what happened at the Stonewall Inn?"

"Of course I did, everyone's heard of it by now."

Nightmare paused, listening in. She wasn't exactly sure why. But the two women sitting at the outside café said nothing else about it, and eventually went on their ways. Nightmare watched one of them reach out to squeeze the other's hand, gently, before they left. Lesbians, then. Not that Nightmare had a problem with them, but it was dangerous to be affectionate in public if you were queer.

She meant to forget about it, but Stonewall Inn nagged at her mind, and she went to go find it herself.

She learned a lot about herself that day.

----

Nightmare felt comfortable, for once. That was saying something. He hadn't felt very comfortable in his own body since that day in the village. At least the name 'Nightmare' wasn't gendered. He didn't want to change it.

He kept his hair long at first, only binding when he went out. He was proud of himself for even going this far in his presentation.

The first time it happened, the person was drunk and handsy, and Nightmare had frozen up, his skin crawling and no longer feeling like his own.

He cut his hair after that.

But it kept happening, more people, different places.

He didn't keep count.

----

How his skin prickled. Dream had caught him, but there were alarms going off, and for once it wasn't his fault. When all the guards left, he fled the cell, and ran right into a face he only just barely recognized.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from JR!" He snapped, grabbing them by the hand and dragging them with him.

He'd met Cross that day. Cross didn't ask him questions. Cross was useful.

Most importantly, Cross was a friend, and when Nightmare came out to him, he understood.

Most of it.

Error was the same way.

----

"Yo, Night, your binder's clean."

"Thank fucking god, you're a lifesaver Error, my lifeblood," Nightmare declared, his voice still light and floaty, and in his opinion, undermining his very important announcement.

Error muttered obscenely under his breath, tossing the fabric at him haphazardly from where he sat buried on the couch in blankets. Cross sat on the floor in front of him, mashing the buttons on his controller and hardly paying attention. Error sat down next to him, and Nightmare took the opportunity to shuck his top off and slip the binder over his head.

"You really shouldn't wear it at home," Error muttered, not looking at him while he pulled his top back on.

"Where the fuck else am I gonna wear it? Running for my life? Can barely breathe correctly after that, y'know," Nightmare snarked back, reaching out to gently flick the back of Error's head. His friend gave a little start, before turning his head back to face him.

"Well," Error started, unsure of himself now. He crossed his arms, huffing. "Still."

Nightmare snorted, burrowing back underneath the blankets. Life was good.

----

"You are going to come quietly, and you will not make a fuss."

Dream looked strangely cruel in that moment, and Nightmare hated it, his aura flaring lowly. The guards behind him held his wrists behind his back, and the guards beside him gripped his forearms tightly. He'd given up on struggling, figuring that it'd just be easier go and break out later. Error and Cross had gotten away, after all. They'd come back for him.

Dream turned away from him, calling back to the guards.

"Make sure she's properly restrained."

Nightmare felt as though he'd been dunked in ice cold water. He hadn't been called 'she' for a long time. It sunk down his chest like a stone, growing heavier and heavier, and he was suddenly very aware of his binder around his chest.

Ink, by Dream's side, watched him. Not that he noticed.

----

"I'm not sure why you thought changing your appearance so drastically would keep me from finding you."

Nightmare huffed, glaring at Dream from behind the bars on the door. He sat on the bed provided, his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd never hated his body so much before.

"I'm not sure why how I choose to appear is any of your freaking business, Your Highness," he snarked, and Dream's stoic expression twitched momentarily into irritation.

"It hardly matters much now, Nightmare. You've always been this way," Dream sighed, turning away from the cell.

Nightmare put his head down, tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

"Guard her cell."

Dream's footsteps faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, hoping Error and Cross would come soon.

They did.

They always did.

----

"You're trans, right?"

Nightmare stopped in his tracks. He knew it was dangerous to keep his back turned to Justice Reigns's top mercenary, but he was too shocked to do anything but freeze up.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he whacked it off, turning to look up into Ink's eyes.

"Why do you want to know?" He snapped, his voice that light and reedy tone he hated. Feminine. Not what he was.

"Figured it was worth asking." Ink shrugged, sliding his paint brush into the holder across his back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and Nightmare took a step back, tensing up. He didn't like how relaxed Ink was, half expecting an ambush from Justice Reigns guards.

"... Yes, I am. What's it to you?" He snapped, and he cringed silently, hating how high his voice was.

"Same hat. What pronouns?"

Nightmare stopped, blinking stupidly. "He, him. Why."

Ink shrugged again, a ghost of a smile twitching against his mouth. "You on hormones?"

"Uh, no? Nowhere to get them. Nowhere safe, at least." He gripped his staff tighter, knuckles turning white.

"I can fix that."

"You're not safe."

"You think Justice Reigns isn't safe?" Ink paused. "Don't answer that. My point is, I can get you hormones. I already get my own testosterone, nobody'll suspect if I'm the one to smuggle you some."

Nightmare breathed out slowly, hating the feeling of hope bubbling in his chest.

"I literally meant you, shitwit. Why would you help me anyways?"

"Not being able to pass isn't fun. It's free at Justice Reigns, you know. Binders, hormones, surgeries. All that shit. Not very 'just' to exclude you."

It didn't make sense to him, why Ink wanted to help. Maybe somewhere in there, Ink had made some alternate connection that Nightmare couldn't understand, because Ink had actually shown up the next week, handed him the case he said he would, and left. No ambush, no Justice Reigns guards, no Dream.

Life was great.

----

Life was, decidedly, not so great.

Dream stared down at him, eyes wide.

Calloused hands cupped his face, and Nightmare couldn't breathe, couldn't move as Dream's eyes flickered over his features, confused and uncertain. It was almost unbearable, seeing Dream without the spark of recognition in his eyes for him.

Nightmare coughed, and the sound came out deeper than it ever had before. His voice had changed, finally, thanks to the testosterone shots Ink was supplying him with. He didn't actually care who they were from, as long as he had them in the first place. Ink had been trustworthy in one regard.

"... Nightmare?" Dream started, and Nightmare took a step back, away from Dream's hands, reaching up to rub nervously at the stubble that had started to grow. Dream's gaze hardened.

"Nightmare-"

He fled.

Dream didn't chase him.

----

"Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"He."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Ink shrugged, flopping on one of the couches in Dream's office and pulling out his phone.

"I mean, not like he could just waltz up to you and say 'hey Dream, guess what I'm trans', you know?"

Dream let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And just how long have you been meeting up with her- him, to supply her- him, with these hormones?"

Ink snorted, looking vaguely amused at Dream's furious attempts to correct himself.

"A while now. I mean, dude's on the run, where else is he gonna get hormones he knows are safe?"

Dream sighed and dropped his head in his hands, slumping in his chair.

"I need to go through all his paperwork," he muttered, sounding vaguely horrified. Ink snickered, looking up from his phone.

"See? You're getting it."

----

"Stop him!"

Nightmare skidded around the corner, laughing gleefully and dodging a swipe from Ink's brush. Black paint splattered the wall beside him, and he hooked his staff into the building ahead of him and vaulted on top of it.

"Do not let him and his accomplices get away, Nightmare must be detained now."

From the rooftops, he could see Dream, giving orders in a voice that easily carried over the buildings. Dream caught his eye, and he grinned. He hadn't ever felt so euphoric before.

Dream raised a brow at his smile, a smile of his own rising from sheer disbelief. It made Nightmare cackle and continue running.

Error was just below, and Cross was fighting off the guards nearby.

"Nightmare man, c'mon!" Error shouted, ripping open a portal. Cackling still, Nightmare tumbled down from the roof, kicking against the wall and rolling to the ground. He knocked the last two guards over the heads and rushed for the portal.

"Nightmare, stop!"

"Shit," Cross swore, raising his knife and backing up slowly. Nightmare turned, and Dream stood there in the mouth of the alley.

"You can all come quietly, or we can take you back by force."

Nightmare snorted, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Sorry, got plans and my boyfriends said I can't. Maybe you can take me out another time, though. Dinner and a movie?"

Error snorted and Cross burst out laughing, and Dream, to their surprise, huffed and sheathed his sword.

"Insufferable. Very well then," Dream spoke, his face carefully blank. "Though I am choosing the movie."

Nightmare sputtered, and Cross immediately hooked his arms underneath Nightmare's, proceeding to haul him back through the portal.

Dream let them go.

[myheroacademia-headcanons]

Romantic headcanons for Best Jeanist, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Twice, Dabi & Stain? P.S. Your romantic headcanons were so good ^^

Ah!! Thank you!

For this ask though, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to skip Twice. I haven’t read the manga, and so I know very little about him. I can answer short blurbs about him (for example the previous request about him hearing his crush practicing confessing) but, I really have to read the manga to write longer quality content regarding him. I apologize!! I will get on reading the manga ASAP!!

Best Jeanist:

-the most….gentlemanly gentleman to ever gentle

-one wouldn’t expect it but he wakes up with the messiest freaking bedhead ever it’s so adorable

-also like he’s all about being put together and whatnot…but he took off his hero costume and his s/o saw that he doesn’t freakin shave. his collar covers up his whole lower face so it’s not necessary and he got SO embarrassed and redfaced when his s/o saw and they just laughed and kissed his stubbly chin. he’s such a sweetheart omg

-loves buying his s/o gifts for no particular reason. there will be a bouquet on the table one day or his s/o will have mentioned breaking something and then the next day he’s replaced it. he never tells his s/o “oh look I got you this” they just find it and look at him and he averts his eyes and blushes and just GOD I want to date Best Jeanist now????

-His love language is definitely gifts. his secondary one is quality time

-likes to take his s/o out on fancy dates and treat them like freaking royalty bc he loves them

-he does enjoy pda but it’s not The Most Important thing to him. enjoys a good cuddle at the end of the day though

-likes having his hair brushed. very easy to put him to sleep this way. Not combed through with fingers though, he specifically likes the brush. He doesn’t know why.

Shigaraki:

-ah yes. my villain son. my villain child

-loves when his s/o gives him lazy kisses anywhere but his face. also loves just feeling his s/o

-enjoys absentmindedly touching them. like running his hand along the back of their head (especially if they have short hair and it’s all fuzzy) or rubbing his thumb against the back of their hand

-prefers being the big spoon, but doesn’t mind switching sometimes

-will cuddle the hell out of his s/o with no remorse

-love language is definitely touch. second is probably acts of service

-doesn’t actually really like him kissing his s/o cos of his lips being all scarred and whatever, he prefers just exploring his s/o

-s/o has to like video games or they have to at least like watching him play. Favorite gaming position is on his bed, with him leaned up against the wall and his s/o curled up in his lap with their back to his chest

-a soft boy. except when he’s being villainous.

-will commit heinous crimes with his s/o. couples that kill together stay together

Kurogiri:

-again, more like Best Jeanist rather than anyone else. except evil. and also mostly not touchable.

-so, his love language is definitely not touch

-he’s mega into quality time. loves to just. sit and talk for hours

-He likes affectionate nicknames when he’s doing it (my love, dear, etc), then one time his s/o called him ghastly and he was like ?????

-he thought it was funny once his s/o explained it tho

-very gentlemanly, not pushy, very careful about consent and communication (again if he wasn’t a warp gate and also evil he would be a hero I bet)

-likes to brag on his s/o all the time. (“listen kurogiri if you weren’t our only warp gate and also mostly impossible to touch I would have disintegrated you by now” -shigaraki after listening to kurogiri for like an hour)

-most important people in his life is his s/o and shigaraki. would die for both of them no hesitation

-warp gate dad???

Dabi:

-Is half bad boy and is half soft boy

-he’s Very dom

-big spoon 100% of the time. no switching. doesn’t like switching.

-if he’s sleeping with his s/o he’s curled around them with his arm around their waist. but if he’s sleeping alone he’s stretched out across the whole bed. no inbetween

-He likes to act all bad boy most of the time but every once in a while his s/o will catch him looking at them like they hang the moon (and also like they’re gonna make a tasty snack later, simultaneously. it’s a very odd look) and his s/o grins at him and he takes a moment to shake out of his reverie and jokingly narrows his eyes at them

-genuinely enjoys just sleeping with his s/o. especially on couches, with his s/o on top of him and their head resting against his collarbone/tucked under his chin.

-would kill anyone for his s/o no hesitation

Stain:

-doesn’t outwardly really show a lot of emotion, PARTICULARLY in public/with anyone around

-anyone who saw him and his s/o out together would just think they were friends/acquaintances

-occasionally has these really weird dreams where he’ll talk in his sleep but none of it makes sense? it’s so violent though that his s/o will wake up and hold him

-pretty much the only time he’ll show weakness is at these moments. he doesn’t cry or say anything but he curls up against his s/o’s chest and just takes deep breaths until he goes to sleep again. he doesn’t tell his s/o what the dreams are about and his s/o knows better than to push him

-would kill anyone/die for his s/o with no hesitation, but he doesn’t show it like the others do. He knows his s/o can take care of themselves and he trusts them.

-again, couples that kill together stay together ;)