#/ hes never been a push-pull type once the push has been made he's GONE lol.

[moonspower]

would love a good ‘ole exes plot but virote does not linger on lost love like that. i think even a divorce he’d be pretty ok after a shockingly short while before moving on for good and not looking back.

not even for more than a day........ hes just like

oh no! :(... ...anyway.

[luwritesomething]

Damian Wayne x Reader: slow mornings.

Words: 596

Reader pronouns: not stated (was coded as black reader since this was written with my oc in mind)

Warnings: None, just fluff. Like, a lot. Also, too short.

Edited?: Not yet, sorry.

Summary: Damian has get out of bed and workout, but you're too bewitching.

Author's note: I wrote this with my DC oc, Blake, on mind. She's black, so I guess you could find this little blurb somewhat black-coded. It accepts every type of reader, really, no skinny or hair or skin or eyes mentions, so there you go!! If you've liked it, know my requests are open w the anon option. I also mainly listened to Farewell, Neverland by TXT while writing this lol. OF COURSE, this is older!damian we're talking about.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! The list for the characters I write is HERE.

Damian always woke up before you did. His routine was rather strict, but simple if he followed it right, and he had enough discipline to follow through with it everyday. A quick breakfast, a heavy workout, a proper breakfast, a heavier and more physical workout, showering and meditation, then the rest of his day. Considering the amount of responsibilities he had as Wayne Enterprises’ VP, he had to wake up really early to fulfill his routine during work days and still arrive on time to the building. Weekends were easier, because they were slower and lacked obnoxious work meetings, and he almost never missed his workouts. Almost.

When he woke that morning, early enough for the light coming through the window to be still weak, his first impulse was to slide out of the bed — pushing the white sheets off his body. But he had barely moved in order to do that, when he noticed your arm around his torso. It made him smile slightly, lovingly, watching your hair all messy around your face, semi buried in the soft, silk pillow.

Damian had had to go to bed before you had even been able to get out of your company’s meeting. In one of the intense but short lived breaks in between your meeting, you had called him and asked not to wait for you, and out of pure exhaustion Damian had actually listened to you and gone to bed once midnight striked. So, this was the first time he was seeing you since early the morning before that.

At least you hadn’t been tired enough not to take your makeup off out of sleepiness, given now she was barefaced. Your skin shone there where the sun, shyly coming in from the barely pulled together curtains, caressed you; and Damian couldn’t help but follow with his eyes the path of happiness on it. His smile widened as his eyes moved slowly, thumb coming to caress your arm again and again and again and again. Damian knew he should have forced himself to lift from the bed more than five minutes ago, but how could he when you could bewitch him by just existing?

Damian’s fingers drew patterns everywhere he could reach, gently easing up as you awakened as you snuggled closer to him. You hid on the crook of his neck, groaning quietly when Damian tickled you slightly, but a smile blossoming on your face because God, it was hard to be mad with Damian when he was this soft. You looked even more precious now to him, as your eyes fluttered, fighting to keep them close.

“Good morning, beloved.” He whispered to your ear, ticklish enough to make you chuckle cheerfully and writhe involuntarily against his body.

You rolled to the side to face him better, but you didn’t open your eyes just yet. “I thought you had to workout today.”

“Something more important came up.”

With that, your eyes opened, glimmering sweetly — Damian’s breath almost caught on the back of your throat. He wanted to stay like this forever. “Oh, yeah?” You hummed, eyebrows up and slightly teasing. Damian just stared, knowing well you appreciated the way he would include you in his mornings from time to time, putting his discipline aside. “And what is that?”

Damian’s lip corner twisted slightly, prompting that charming grin of his. His hand came to your waist, squeezing with the right amount of strength to make you feel terribly loved and important, and then his grin twisted to a genuine smile. “Why don’t you stay and find out?”

[josephquinnswhore]

All It Takes

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: A close count with the infected has Joel forced to confront how he really feels about you.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warning: Joel’s kinda mean I guess lol, reader has a breakdown.

Note: heheh. Hi, it’s been a while. For my bae @cool-iguana. Just a tiny fic to hurt my feelings lol. Angst, comfort, Joel realising he loves reader. Infected attack.

A split second was all it took for you to realise your mistake, one that was too late to rectify. Fuelled by a growing hunger, the type that created an ache so deep it felt as it the emptiness of your stomach had grown claws, digging it’s claws into the surrounding organs.

They suppose they could blame the weather for the mishap; the snowstorm they’d unexpectedly been caught in was unrelenting. It was harsh, bitter. The feeling of their fingertips and toes was non existent, the shivering and teeth chattering causing a complete sense of irritation that she couldn’t contain.

Their cold hands were barely holding onto the gun, the end of the freshly warmed barrel from firing a shot had a small bout of a cloud exit the end of the barrel. Realisation had set in barely seconds after their actions; one infected.

One loan runner the two of them could’ve easily taken down without any need for the use of a gun, they knew it was both a waste of ammunition and putting them in danger of alerting their location of raiders or nearby infected.

Dissociation is strange—it’s harrowing and exhausting. It drags you back into your mind to force you to relive your mistake, while the physical body completely unaware of the clicker that had been lurking in a nearby building, seemingly dormant until the fire had been shot.

It was close, too close. The smell of rotting flesh, the terrifying shrill and speed of the infected as it ran straight toward her as she froze. Never once had they frozen before, always composed, articulated and calm. They could almost feel the teeth of the ravenous monsters desperation, dying for something to sink into, the closest part of you being the exposed skin of their neck.

The way their mind had encapsulated that moment and forced the torment on them had almost cost them their life. Unable to process the traumatic events of how close it had been that your life had been taken; so viciously, so quickly and undeniably their own fault. They ignore the ache in their limbs, blood running as cold as their skin in the worsening snowstorm.

Joel had barely managed to save their life, had barely managed to pull out his large hunting knife and find the strength and mobility in his frozen, stiffened and arthritic fingers to push the blade into the creatures head to save your life.

He had yelled, but it had gone unanswered; the same emotionless expression on their face unnerved him, how distant their eyes seemed to be from him. So he took it in his own hands to physically drag you to a small cabin, trudging through the thick snow, struggling to pull your dead weight behind him before shoving you into the small house.

Joel doesn’t say a word to them, just runs his aching fingers through his greying and now, freezing hair, his ears an uncomfortable shade of beet red from being exposed to the cruel winter storm. He watches them; how disconnected they are from it all, from him.

But he still can’t find it in him to shake off the rage, to bury it so deeply inside of him he could act like it never happened, but it did which means it could happen again.

That made you a liability, to yourself.. and him. The thought stung him. It made his heart swell with an ache he hadn’t felt before, in fact it only fuelled his rage, his fear.

“The hell was that back there? You ain’t ever done nothin’ so damn stupid in your life!” His voice is tight and wound up, he can’t stop the words from escaping his chapped and purple lips.

“You know the rules, shit, woman. The hell’s wrong with you? You lookin’ for a damn death wish or somethin’, for the both of us.”

The growl of his voice was so raw, so truly agitated she couldn’t help but feel herself pulling away, evermore present in his lecture than before.

It starts with one tear that slips without you noticing, then two.. you doesn’t bother to count them as they fall, your waterline mimicking a leaking tap, their cheeks are the basin sink as they catch the water that drips down them. The only thing they can think of is the saltiness of the tears and Joel.. better yet his anger, rage.. disappointment.

“Are you goin’ to speak? What the hell do you have to say for ya’self?”

Another beat of silence, she can’t bring herself to reply, to accept what just happened.

“You’re a liability, can’t have ya comin’ out on patrols with me anymore. I’m talkin’ to Tommy first thing when we get back.” His voice is firm, but much softer and defeated.

A.. liability? Is that what Joel saw her as?

It starts as a small fracture in the facade you’re putting up, then it cracks more deeply, pieces crumbling around her by the second until it shatters to their own feet that stand on the cool, slightly rotten and moss grown hardwood floors.

He was right, that’s all they were. A liability, a failure, a disappointment.

Liability.

Failure.

Disappointment.

Repeat. Liability, failure, disappointment.

You want to scream, to beg, to apologise, all that comes out is the choked up breathless and completely broken sob from your wet mouth. It catches his attention, how far you’d broken down, he hadn’t ever seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so weak. Perhaps he had been to harsh.

No. He knows he had, but he was scared—god he was scared shitless of losing you.

His long legs take large strides to get to you, two or three until he’s knelt down beside you, his large arms pulling you into his lap, rocking your trembling body back and forth, trying to offer some comfort after the grief he’d caused you.

He should’ve been gentler, kinder. As he was now, his large fingertips finding solace in her scalp, massaging small shapes as he plays with their hair, brushing it out of their face. As he looks down without obstruction from their hair, the sight breaks him, his small sweetheart curled up in his lap, lip wobbling and face red and swollen from crying.

You needed comfort, not reprimand.

“I-I’m.. s-so sor-ry Joel..” the crack in your voice is like a splintering dagger filled in acid straight into his heart, cracking his ribs and puncturing his lungs, leaving him breathless for a moment, guilty.

“Shh sweetheart, just let me hold you. I’ve got you, you’re safe with me.. I’ll always keep you safe, as long as you’re by my side.”

There was a tenderness in his voice, a sincerity that he had never shown before, he had a second chance and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste.

“I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re everything to me.” The mumble was half faded in the sound of blood rushing to your ears, but relaxed a bit in his arms as she understood what he was telling you.

I love you. I won’t let you go. I’ve got you.

You weren’t okay, not right now. But you would be.

[drkmgs]

!System Error!

Cipher (Fast and Furious) x Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, cursing, violence is mentioned, sex is mentioned, mentioned of child lost, divorce mentioned

Story type: One shot

I absolutely have no idea how hacking works, but I do know how hard programming is, because I had to learn the basics, but still can't programm. I think I know more html than any programming language. (lol) This was a request via DMs and I don't remember the plot I was planning for this one, so I came up with a new one. TBH, I didn't watch Fast and Furious, so I have no idea what the plot is.

Happy Pride Month!

"Fuck!" You cursed and slammed down on your desk. This was the ninth time already that someone has tried to get into your system, and sadly, they now succeeded. You pressed a red button to shut down all of your devices, took your leather jacket from your computer chair, and swiped a card to call the elevator.

Entering the elevator, you only had one person in your mind who would annoy you by hacking into your system, and they won't stop until they get what they want. So, you are going to pay them a visit and share a piece of your mind, which might involve violence.

Arriving at the garage level, you took one of your helmet off the shelves, carried it to your recently purchased motorcycle, and settled on it before putting the helmet on. Then, you drove out of the garage onto the streets.

—

On the other side, Cipher leaned back on her chair, putting her feet up on the desk, satisfied with her work. Though she might regret this later on when she hissed at her fresh wounds. It didn't take long for her peace to vanish into thin air when she heard a familiar voice shouting not far where she sat.

"Where the fuck is she?!" You push the guard trying to stop you from entering the room, the guy is twice the size of you and yet you are able to push him away. The guy keeps trying, but once he makes eye contact with Cipher, she dismisses him with a lazy wave of her hand, and he is gone.

You marched with clenched fists to her, and she looked up at you when you stopped by her side, giving her a death glare. "Stop hacking into my system when you're bored, I have been telling you that for the last months now." You said through your teeth, fists still clenched tight.

"You should strengthen your walls then. Where I can't easily pass through." She shrugged and smiled at you. SMILED?! Now, you are 100% sure she's gone mad. You are about to lose your mind and might just throw her against the wall.

You leveled down to her, aggressively pulling the chair by the restarm to face you, which cause her feet to drop on the ground and lean forward to you. You trapped her with both your arms in the seat. You looked straight into her eyes. "Listen here, Cipher. You might be one of a hella cyber hacker, but don't forget who broke your fingers once, and I'm not far from doing it a second time. Stop lingering around my system to get my attention! You blew your chance two years ago!" That last sentence wasn't planned. It shouldn't have made it out of your mouth, but you couldn't help it.

If she was doing this, because she wants to get another chance with you, this is where you need to tell her that it is never going to happen. Ever. Again. You knew her already. She'll do everything to get want she wants and then toss you out like you have never shared a bed together and made her cum multiple times with your mouth and fingers.

It was clear that the last sentence caught both of you off guard. You immediately stepped back from her as if the chair you were hold was made of lava. You closed your eyes, pinching the space between your eyes, and exhaled. "J-Just remove yourself from my system. Please." Only a few seconds later, you hear fast keyboard noises and a loud enter. "It's gone. You may go now." For the first time in your life you hear her cold voice, it shot through your cracked heart.

But this situation where both you are right now wasn't your fault. It was hers. She made the choice. She didn't have the right to be mad at you. "Thanks. If you didn't make that choice two years ago, maybe we wouldn't have ended up like this." You had your back facing her.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" If it wasn't quiet in the room, you might have not heard what she said, but the silence of the room was suffocating and made things easy to hear. You scoffed, turning around facing her. "Your apologies can't bring my child back to life!" Cipher stands up straight towering over you. "She is also my child!" She shouted at you. "You! Have no right to say that! The moment you chose that stupid plan of yours, you lost the right to be her parent! So fuck off, Cipher!"

Every sentence you said you pushed your fore finger onto her chest, you saw red, and it's a miracle you aren't throwing punches at her or even throwing her across the room, probably it's because you both got tired of expressing your anger to each other physically, so you are doing it emotionally now.

You can't do this anymore. "I want a divorce." You announced. Cipher staggered a step back, leaning her hands on her desk to keep her up on her feet. She didn't think that the pain she had caused you was this bad. She thought giving you space and time, everything would go back to its own place, and you would eventually forgive her, but she underestimated the damages that had been done.

Is she ready to let you go? Does she want to let you go? Do you deserve someone better? Definitely. "No." Cipher pushed away from the desk and faced you. "Don't make things harder for us, Cipher. We can't see each other without biting each others heads off. Hell, we don't share the same bed anymore! We are partly living in our offices!" You argue. "Then let's get back together! We can fix this! We don't have to go down that road." Cipher took one step closer to you, which made you step back. "Please." You could hear the desperation in her voice, but you chose to ignore it.

The pain is too much. You stepped further away from her. You shook your head, tears threatening to fall before it could you turn around and left her.

[that-one-gay-writer1227]

30 Day Writing Challenge; Day Seven, Xiao's NSFW alphabet

A/N: howdy everyone, apologies for not posting on my 30-day challenge recently, I won't make excuses for not posting. I've just had writer's block recently for Xiao. Although I haven't been posting as often as I should, rest assured that I have not given up on this little project of mine, nor will I stop halfway. Anything worth doing is worth doing till the end.

Anyways also, I wanna know y'alls opinions: What are some of the music artists y'all like? I've been wanting to branch out to new genres and artists. Currently, I've been listening to a lot of Ashnikko and the Crane Wives (complete opposites I know lol.)

Summary: Just an alphabet of Xiao's nsfw preferences lol.

Warnings: smut, all fem/ male/ enby/ etc. readers welcome (anything specific to gender has been labeled), praise kink, oral, femdoms, maledom, pegging, anal sex, masturbation, face riding/ face sitting, bondage, overstimulating, oral sex, toys, teasing, hair pulling, mommy kink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Aftercare

Xiao's inexperienced so I feel at first he would need you to teach him what proper aftercare looks like. After a few times of cleaning up and cuddling, he'll catch on pretty quick and make sure to take care of you afterward. He really likes cuddles after sex since it makes him feel cared for (poor baby hasn't been given much since his archon war days so please smother him in love)

B = Body part

On you, it'd be your hips. I cannot stress this enough, he loves hips. guys, girls, enbys, etc, he has no preference. He likes all kinds. He just loves being able to hold them while hugging, cuddling, and riding him. He's just obsessed.

On himself, his favorite part would be his hands and his eyes. He's not entirely sure how you're attracted to him as he doesn't have the ability to see himself in that light, but he's always liked how his hands looked and his eyes always seem to melt into your own gaze.

C = Cum

Personally, I think he prefers coming inside, only because he doesn't seem like the type to want to make a mess. At least not normally. The only exception would be cumming on you after a handjob. He would enjoy seeing how the liquid coats your hands.

D = Dirty secret

He has a secret fantasy of you domming him. If you're afab then he has a fantasy of you tying him down and riding his face. If you're amab, then he has the fantasy of you pushing his face into the pillows while you drill into him. Though he would never admit to these fantasies, so you'd have to be the one to bring it up to him.

E = Experience

None. Nada. Zip. Of course, he knows what sex is, but he's never gone much further than that. Before you, he always thought that it was only for reproduction, but once you come into the picture, take the opportunity of corrupting him to the max.

F = Favorite position

He has a few actually! If you're domming then it's either cowgirl or doggy style (him underneath). If he's domming you then it's a mating press.

G = Goofy

Deadly serious. It's already difficult (almost impossible) making him laugh outside of the bedroom, so there's almost no chance of it happening in the bedroom. though I will say, he does get really nervous and shy. also if you fuck him to the point of overstimulation he does smile blushing like crazy <3

H = Hair

In the beginning and before you he personally only trimmed and cleaned down there, but he'll ask your preference. He isn't picky about how he's kept down there as long as he's clean so whatever you prefer is what he'll go for. also the same goes for you, he isn't picky as long as you keep clean.

I = Intimacy

At this point, you've been dating him for a while. He doesn't let people into his heart or inner circle easily given his trauma, but if you've made it this close he won't hide from you. He's very romantic but without the over-the-top gestures. It's more of an "I wanna make you feel like the only one on teyvat with me" Look in his eyes and feeling in his actions.

J = Jack off

He doesn't really masturbate. He's never done it before for a few reasons. The first is that he's never felt attraction before meeting you (with the exception of heat cycles), and the second is that if he ever needed attention, he'd just ask you for help when you both would have time. He would do it for you if you wanted to watch him though.

K = Kinks

Praise: tell him how good of a boy he is for you and he will literally melt. When he has this positive affirmation, it makes him feel better and more confident in his abilities.

Femdom: for my fem lovelies, he likes being dommed by yall. Once again, he won't bring this up since he's a little embarrassed about wanting to be fucked silly by a mortal, but archons how he loves it. The first time you both tried it he nearly came after only a few minutes.

Face riding/sitting: Once again for my afab readers, please sit on his face. He will literally start whimpering for you to ride his mouth. He loves the way you look and sound as you use him like this. Especially if you're also giving him a handjob while riding his face. He'll be weak in only a few pumps.

Pegging/ anal: He loves being fucked in the ass. He also wouldn't admit to this, but it makes him feel heavenly. He absolutely loves it.

Bondage: both being tied up and tying you up. If he's tying you up, trust me you will not be walking for the next few days. It's just not happening. now if you tie him up, he will literally beg for you to fuck him until he blacks out.

Overstimulation: continuing above ^^ he loves the way he can't think after the nth orgasm. It's his way of escapism even if it's not very often. Moments like these he doesn't have to think about all of his trauma. He can put that all away for the time being and focus on begging for you to let him cum.

Mommy kink: (for fem readers) This one might be a stretch but I can see him as having a mommy kink. He wants to feel loved and taken care of in the bedroom (though he will always put your pleasure first). Actually, a funny story, the first time you found out about this was during peak orgasm he accidentally moaned the name out, immediately feeling embarrassed. At least until you told him to call you that again.

L = Location

I feel that he's a little more traditional with this, so I would have to say bedroom. After some time he might be open to exploring a little bit, but usually within the confines of your home or the inn. expect most of your mischievous adventures to take place in the sheets.

M = Motivation

When you're assertive. He sasses you? Sass him back. You had a shitty day cuz some asshole came up to you being rude? Come vent to him while being pissed off. (He would wholeheartedly want you to bring that into the bedroom. "Take it all out on me, mommy. I can take it")

N = No

Being degraded. If you want to be degraded he would be alright with that, but I feel like his trauma makes it hard for him to handle having to be called names or treated poorly himself.

Non-con roleplay. he. will. not. do. this. Even if it is a role play, the idea of that makes him beyond uncomfortable. He will roleplay anything but that. He also won't do anything to physically harm you severely either. He'd be fine with spanking, but anything above that and he'd be too worried that his yaksha strength would hurt you.

O = Oral (giving vs receiving)

He'd prefer giving. If you're amab, he'll happily suck you off for hours. He loves the feeling of you twitching in the back of his mouth. If you're afab then he loves the way your hips buck into his mouth. in fact, he's pretty skilled in giving head to someone with no experience. He's a very fast learner and he'll memorize all the right spots from the first time and use that to his advantage.

P = Pace

It really depends on the mood. He likes being fucked fast and rough since he is able to focus on that and leave his brain a pile of mush, but if he's fucking you then he'll go slow, deep, and hard. He wants to tease you just enough to make your orgasm as blissful as possible, but if you ask him he'll absolutely rail you until you can't even get a sentence out.

Q = Quickies

He doesn't like them that much. He'd much rather spend the time with you, and make it as pleasurable as possible. He really doesn't see the appeal in trying to fit what normally takes hours with him, into fifteen minutes.

R = Risk

Give him a chance to get used to the basics and he's willing to try just about anything (with a few exceptions). He probably won't tell you if there's something he wants to try. He'd try and keep it to himself since he doesn't want you to think that he's putting his needs above yours. Just reassure him and ask if he wants to try it with you. Although I said earlier that he'd prefer to be in a private place, he will leave the door unlocked "accidentally".

S = Stamina

Hours. If he were to go until he was out of stamina, you'd spend an entire day in bed. It's part of being an Adeptus, his stamina is impossibly high and he can definitely go an ungodly amount of rounds.

T = Toys

He's pretty indifferent to toys. To be fully honest, he doesn't know very much about them. But he's more than willing to learn more if you want to bring them into the bedroom. eventually, after trying it, I feel like he'd really like anal vibrators and cock rings.

U = Unfair

He's pretty fair...unless you try and be a little shit. Then you're screwed. he's not normally super super dom-like, but you keep teasing him? You keep pushing his buttons? oh, ohhhh you're actually gonna regret it. That's one of the few times he'd tie you down and tease you until it hurts.

V = Volume

If he's domming then you won't hear too much from him. You might get a few grunts and pants for sure. While he's cumming there'll be a few moans, but not overly loud. If he's subbing then he'll be a whimpering, sobbing mess. It takes a lot for him to moan very loud, so for the most, it's quite pleas and whimpers.

W = Wildcard

He likes being marked. He likes both being bitten and having scratch marks on his back. He also likes having his hair pulled.

X = X-Ray

5" in length, 6 1/2" when he's hard. Larger in girth, cut, and he's got veins running along his length. Also, he has a slight curve. Very sensitive.

Y = Yearning

I feel like his drive is slightly lower. Now he does have heat cycles, so he gets needier during those, but overall his drive is very dependent on your needs.

Z = Zzzzz

He doesn't really sleep that often, so he'd stay up either with you or after you've fallen asleep. Every once in a while he'll wear himself out enough to fall asleep.

[igotlostinthesewers]

Some Type of Drug

Chapter Three: You came? You called.

Pairing: Leonardo x Reader

Reader Type: Gender Neutral

Song: In my time of dying- Led Zepplin

Warnings: Fighting. Blood. Cursing.

An: I hope this is good lol. Let me know what yall think!

Word Count: 3273

"I'm not to far gone to be healed, am I? I'm not too gone am I?"

-Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"

You see him more often than you thought you would after that day. Catching glimpses of Leonardo on building tops. Curling around corners and blending into the shadows. Always watching over you when he was given a chance. Ever since that night Foot soldiers were far more frequently spotted and he wanted to ensure it was not because of you.

Leonardo always gives you a head up when he follows you. Something as simple as a pitched whistle. That weird grumble not growl he'd make sometimes. But always he would watch over you as you made your walk back home. Making the nightime routine a part of his patrol. And ever since that night you made sure to carry both mace and a taser. 

After work Leonardo makes time to talk to you.  Sometimes he would in the morning. Slink in before the morning sun has truly risen. But it was easier at night. Far less of a chance of him being spotted.

The two of you weren't quite friends yet. Both your hearts to calloused, to walled, to really allow you to open up. But the kinship the two of you held was greater than just acquaintances.  You allowed the guy to raid your fridge when you were not there for goodness sakes. 

Leonardo left you little things to find when you would come home. Sometimes it was change to pay for what he took. Other times it was small charms he thought you might like. Once it was a plate of cookies from his brother Mikey.

He had yet to let you meet his family in the month the two of you had gotten to know each other. You were certain that the reason why he stuck around for so long was to keep an eye on you. To both ensure his secret, and his family, were safe. But also to keep the Foot from finding you.

That changed with the last gift though. Some shift in the air when you came back home to see a goldstone bracelet sitting on your kitchen counter. It was all sparkling and blue when you had picked it up. It was then you realized just how observant he really was. 

You had made nothing more than an off hand mention about how your last one broke. The small beads never to be found again when they slide under the oven. You had told Leo about it when you were making dinner. Filling in the silence of your apartment. 

It had been such an insignificant thing to you.

But he had remembered. And it left you wondering just what you  were to each other.

Leonardo learned about your home town as you grew more comfortable with his presence. Telling him about your family, your childhood friend. You told him of your long trip here. How you drove because you were scared to ride in a plane. And you told him how lucas had been your only support. The only one who had encouraged you to go. And how he was the only one who would still talk to you.

What you did not tell him was about the heartbreak. The screaming and yelling. The begging. The very things that left you so guarded.

In the same way Leo told you about his family. The shenanigans that Mikey would pull. His ever loving heart. Donatello's bad late night habits but also of his brilliance. Sometimes he would complain about Raphael's bullheadedness but in the very same breath praise his bravery. His heart.

He spoke of his father. His sensei. His teacher in most things. But he spoke little else of Splinter. And you did not push the subject.

In a way you began to think you became a place he did not have before. A place to be. To vent. A place to lay down his worries without having a person with prior knowledge to judge him. You were a place to listen as he was for you.

.

.

"You would not believe the audacity this guy had!" Were the first words out of your mouth. Leonardo had barely pulled himself from your window when you spoke.

"Long day?" He asked. He bent to give Zeki a soft pet on his grey head before turning back to you.

"Blue, You don't even know the half of it." You have him a look while shedding your jacket. Tossing the rain soaked thing into a basket near you door.

"You want to tell me so I know all of it?" He laughed out.

"Abso-fuckin-lutley" Off came your shoes. Briefly you stepped into your room to change.

When you stepped back out Leo was sitting on one of your stools. Smelling at one of your perfume oils that you left there this morning. That particular one seemed to be a favorite of his and you've contemplated buying one for him.

Do. Do mutated turtles wear perfume? Cologne?

"So, you know Karens right?" Leo looked up. Capping the little vial.

"Those are the ones who are entitled. Right? The me-me?" Clearly one of his brothers needed to brush him up on his memes. Leo pulled at your small sketchnook. Looking over small doodles that you had made that mornings.

"Meme's. But ya. I don't know what the male version of that is." You began taking your rings off at the counter. "Probably Kevin."

You reacount just how much of the jerk the guy had been as you made dinner. Seasoning steaks and peeling potatoes.

"I tried so many god damned times to make his coffee right. It was either to hot or two cold or not enough nutmeg. By the time I was ready to call it quits and kick the guy out, Miss. Helen came up. She grabbed the coffee I had just made and tossed it in the mans face before telling him to get out in such away it would make Lucifer himself blush." Leo laughed as you tossed your hands up in the air.

"This Miss. Helen sounds like quite the woman." Standing Leo went to your cabinets. Pulling out cups and plates to place on the counter as you finished up cooking.

You were quick to plate the food. Rare steaks, garlicy and buttery mashed potatoes, and green beans with bacon. You were filling up your cups when you caught Leo's eye. He was watching you intently. He did that a lot. Observing the little things you to. Catching small quirks you didn't know you had. But this time. It felt different. A little more intimate.

"What?" You ask. Wiping away at you cheek incase you had gotten something on it. 

Leo pulls in a breath of air. As if he just now realized that he indeed needed to breathe."Nothing I." He pauses. Swallows. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Eat." You motined to his plate. "Did Michelangelo ever get that move down?" At this leo's eyes softened. Pride at his younger brother pulling him upwards.

.

.

Dishes were done together. You washing and Leo drying. Something about it was so. Domestic. It was comforting at times. You having missed this since. Well since your family fell apart. But at times it left your mind to wander. At what kind of friendship you and Leo had.  

When you insisted on doing it yourself, to stubborn to let others help. Leo had somehow fangled his way into at least drying. Everything in him just as stubborn to not let you do all the work yourself.

Leo was drying the last dish when his phone chimed. You watched as the large terrapin wove around you. His arm brushing against yours in the small space as he flicked he screen on.

"Sorry. I have to go." You could feel the small fall in your heart when he said this. You were always a little sad to see him go. Leo filled up an empty space you weren't aware you had until he was gone. It often left you scrambling to fill that space when he left. 

"It's alright Leo. Really." You bump his bicep with the back of your hand. "Family is important. I get it." Leonardo only nodded. Pocketing his phone.  

As normal Leo turned to leave. Pulling back the curtains to reveal a cloudless, star filled sky. Not as normal. Leo paused in the open window. Jaw clenching and unclenching  as he thought.

"You good Leo?" A bit of concern at his current behavior. He said nothing. Sliding back in to your home and grabbing the pen and paper off your coffee table.

"Can you meet me hear at this place and time?" He handed you the paper. His words were curled and flowy. Almost pretty in a way.

"Ya. Ya I can." You recognized the place. Just outside a pizza diner you liked to go to. A sly smile spread on your face as you looked back up at him. "You askin' me out on a date Boy Blue?" You laughed when he made a choking sound.

"I. No." He held his hands up. "Not that I wouldn't like to. I mean." He popped his knuckles and cleared his throat. "I want you to meet my family. It's safest to bring you there from that place." Those blue eyes finally landed back on you. Studied you for even the smallest of reaction. And you smiled. Warmth filled you.

"Ya. I'd like that." You spoke it to the ground. Then him. At that Leo smiled. 

"I'll see you later then." He told you. Waving before he slinked out the window, up the fire escape, and into the night filled city.

.

 Leo's heart was pounding. His normally steady hands shaking. Who knew that such a simple question  would have him so nervous. Well he knew why deep down. He was afraid to show you the one thing he truly cared about. It had taken him a week  just to ask. He brothers, and even Splinter at one point, asking when they were going to meet you.

Honestly he was a little excited to tell the others that you would be coming over soon.

.

He could hear his brothers before he saw them. There was Mikey's music. Something frying in a pan. Don was rattling something off about the latest planetary discovery and he could hear the soft. Plink Pling. Of Raph's knitting needles.

Mikey must have spotted him coming up the stairs into the kitchen space because he heard. "Bro! You're back! Finally." Leo was quick to catch a can of grape soda thrown at him.

"Took ya long enough fearless." Raph hardly spares him a glance. "Ya forget about movie night?" Leo took a seat across from him. Leaning back into his chair he popped the tab on his soda.

"No. Just got caught up is all." Raph's hands stilled and his brothers hazel eyes all but bored into him. His scarred lips pulled into a smirk. Then he scoff. Letting the dark blue knit fall to the table.

"You've gotta mile wide grin Leo." With the words out Mikey and Don stopped in what they were doing. Pausing to watch their two eldest brothers. "Spill."

Leo nodded his head. Looked to the table and if he could, smiled even brighter. "They're coming over." Their cheering was loud enough for Splinter to come out of his room and rising up the stairs to see what had his sons so excited.

"Finally! God you wouldn't shut up about them." Raph had thrown his head back. Leo furrowed his brow.

"I don't talk about them that much." Leo muttered. Looking to Splinter as if his father would agree.

"Every third sentence you speak is about them." Donnie spoke up. Leo through him a look. Then sighed when Splinter chuckled. 

With his gaze now fixed on the ceiling Leo asked. "What movie are we watching tonight." He was wanting to change the subject. Really. He didn't talk about them that much. Did he?

"The Hobbit." And when Leo looked at Raph he added. "It's Donnies turn to pick." He shrugged then began to help set up the living room for the movie.

.

Popcorn flew over his head. "Donnie If I have ta tell ya to keep your feet on your side one more time!" The ending credits of Desolation of Smaug rolled across the screen.

"One more time what Raph?" Donnies foot darts out to hit Raphs thigh for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Oh that's it!" And just like that. Leo lost his popcorn.

"Knock it off you two." Leo rose. Standing up to break up his brothers roughhousing when he felt, and heard, his phone ring. When he pulled out your name and number was on the screen. He was quick to answer.

"Leonardo?" Your voice was quiet. 

"Y/n? Are you ok?" From the corner of his eye he could see Raph slap a hand over Mikey's mouth. His other arm headlocking Donnie.

"Fuck." Your breath shook. "Leo? Shit. They're here. They've." His blood ran cold when he heard your scream. Then glass shattering.

You must of dropped the phone. He could hear it thud against the floor. Your voice fainter now as you yelled.

"Fucking let me go!" The buzzing sound of a taser then. "You sick bitch!" Then nothing as the phone cut off.

"Everything ok Leo?" Donnie asked. Pulling his head out from Raph's arm.

"Ya bro. Everything good? You've gone all. Serious face on us." Mikey finally pulled the hand away.

"They're in trouble."

.

You didn't know when they came in. How they broke in. When Leo left the apartment had been to quiet. So you put on your playlist and letting it go on shuffle as you swepts the living room. You had done little else  but clean. Humming along to Led Zeppelin as you did so.

Your first clue had been Zeki and his bell. The small jingle barely audible over your music. The second had been your own instincts. Some animal part of your brain not yet gone picking up what you could not see.

Until the light in your window shifted.

Your heart rate picked  up. Your hair at the nape of your neck stood on end. Every part of your body ran cold.

If you had not moved. Oh god if you had not moved. The smallest shift of your bare feet against the cold wooden floor. The drop of your shoulder

You felt it. Feather light touch against your cheek. The quick hum of broken air.

Then your flower vase shattered. Glass glistening in the dim light of your home.

There was pain. Bright white pain when your knees hit the floor. You were quick to turn. Get up.

You went left at their right.

There was nothing but you, them, and the voice of Robert  Plant.

"Meet me, Jesus, meet me"

You were quick. Heavy hitting. Grabbing. Pulling. Breaking anything your could grab.

Glass shattered. At some point you had the wooded leg of your coffee table in hand.

Two. There was two of them. 

You tasted blood. Smelled it. Minging with vanilla and dragons blood.

"Oh saint peter at the gates of heaven won't you let me in?

 I never did no harm,

I never did no wrong."

The glass of their goggles broke when you brought down the wooden leg. Their scream was loud. Piercing.

Silenced with the next hit.

Your body was both fired and calm. Cool water swam in your thoughts. Always focused. Always steady. One wrong move. Oh one wrong move.

"And I see them in the streets

 And I see them in the field

 And I hear them at my feet 

 And I know it's got to be real."

The last one didn't get the chance to fully fight.

Blind rage. A hot, deafening desire. Ran through your body. Controlled you. They got you good. Seeing stars. Hearing bells.

They to though. Grew cold.

.

Your phone was next to your overturned couch. Thankfully unbroken as you flicked the lock screen open.

Contacts.

Scrolled down.

:Blue Raspberry:

Hit dial.

You could hear talking. Laughing. "Leonardo?" It was hard to speak. Voice quiet.

"Y/n? Are you ok?" Nothing but genuine concern. And oh you wanted nothing more than his help in this moment.

"Fuck." Your voice shook. Hearing rather that seeing the breaking of your windows. "Leo? Shit. They're here." And God your knees wanted to give out. "They're here. They've." And you screamed. Fear took you. Blinded you.

No longer were you in control.

One from the window. Another at your door.

The one at the door grabbed you. 

"Fucking let me go!" Shrill. High. There. Your taser. "You sick bitch!" 

"Im gon' to make it my dying 

dying 

dying"

.

.

It felt like a moment and they were there. The window he's crawled in and out of at least a hundred times by now was shattered.

They could all hear your desperate breathing. Smell the fear rolling off of you.

And music. Music was playing.

Raph had been the first to step in. Sais in hand as he crossed the threshold of the window.

Then resounding hit that rattled Raph's teeth.

"Fukin' Shit!" Raph.

The music called out. "Sweet little baby I don't know where you've been."

Your broken sob is what had him moving. All but throwing himself through that window.

Your home was a mess. The smell of blood, death, and fear a pungent mixture in the air.

"Oh God." Donatello. Leonardo had to agree. In the middle of it all stood you. Bloodied, bruised, clothes torn. Blood spilling thickly from your nose. Your open mouth. Your right eye was puffy. Swollen to the point of almost closing.

There was a pan in your hand. Your gripped it so tightly he could almost hear your fingers creak in protest. That must have been the thing you had hit Raph with.

"Leo?" The pan fell from your hand. Landed near your bare feet. "Leo?" He was quick to move. Catching you by the shoulders before your knees could hit the floor.

"I've got you. I've got you. You'll be ok." You gaze was distant. Your grip close to painfull on his forearms.

"They. My home." Donatello was slow to approach you. "Those bastards broke into my home." You voice was venomous. Lips bared over bloodied teeth. "Tried to hurt me. Tried to." Then the reality of it all hit you. "I. Oh God." A broken breath in.

"It was either you or them. Be glad it was them." Your head snapped to Raph. A whimper. Then sharply turned to Donatello when his hand rested on your shoulder.

You couldn't hear him. Could only watch as his lips moved. You were shaking. Cold but not. Breathing. Were you breathing?

"They're in shock." Donnies fingers rested at your clammy cheek. "Leo we need to get them to a hospital." Donatello could see a number of injuries. Smell a weird mixture of rain and blood on them.

"We can't do that. How would they explain any of this." Leonardo gathered you in his arms. "We take them to the lair. You can help them." Donatello looked around your home. To the people lying on your floors. 

Foot Soldiers.

"The Foot would just come for them there." Leonardo finished.

"Zeki. Where's Zeki?" You slurred out. Pushing against Leo's chest to go find him.

"Whose Zeki?" Raph asked. Kicking a rag dolled Foot off a broken table with a low whistle. His chin and cheek were dark.

"Their cat. Zeki's probably-" Leo was cut off when Mikey came out of your room. Cat in hand. The poor thing was terrified. Yowling. Meowing. Calling out for you.

"Whose this?" Leo shifted his grip on you. Offered a comforting pet to the cat.

"Zeki. He's their pet." The cat settled a bit at seeing a familiar face. "Y/n should have a carrier around here. Find it then bring Zeki back to the Lair."

.

You stirred in his arms when cook air brushed against your battered body. Your eyes fall on the bottom of a green chin. This close you could catch the faintest hint of sandalwood and leather. "Leo?" Then blue. You were swimming in blue.

[jungwonenthusiast]

can I please request for prompts 2, 5, 10, 12 for hard&soft dom!heeseung and an innocent!fem!s/o from enhypen smut prompt list? prompt no. 5 to be said by the reader while the rest by heeseung

A/N: forgive me if there r any typos lol i hope u like it :)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), degredation, slight corruption kink

Word count: 2.4 k

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm as another jumpscare appears on the movie screen. He giggles at you. “Is it gone yet?” you whisper and he nods.

Today was your four month anniversary with Heeseung and you decided to treat him by taking him to a scary movie he’s been wanting to see.You’re not a huge fan of them but you figured it’d be a way for you to cuddle him without raising too much suspicion.

He kept a hand on your thigh throughout the movie, occasionally squeezing and rubbing it over your pants.

You try to ignore the film by keeping your eyes on him. His hands, his legs, his hands, his profile. Anything to distract yourself from the poor family being killed on the screen.

It isn’t long before the movie ends and you walk out to Heeseung’s car.

“The brother was such an idiot. Why didn’t he just call the police?” he says while starting the engine. (haha engene lol sorry)

“The police can’t stop ghosts.” you chuckle.

“Maybe NASA could’ve figured something out.” he grabs your thigh again, it’s kind of his thing. “I’m surprised you survived.”

“Yup, my love for you overcomes my hatred for horror movies.”

He smiles and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go to my place.” he says and you frown.

“But all the boys-”

He cuts you off. “The maknaes aren’t there, they’re paintballing in Itaewon.”

You groan. “Fine.”

The boys’ dorm is never your first choice which is understandable without elaboration. But you try not to get annoyed and instead enjoy living in the moment.

He has the windows cracked open and the wind is whipping through his hair, making him look like a moviestar.

Sunghoon and Jake are in their own rooms when you get there so at least there’s some peace and quiet.

Heeseung plops onto his bed. “Come here sweetheart.” he says with his arms out to you.

You smile and snuggle up to him, resting your head on his chest.

He pets your hair and kisses your forehead. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re prettier.” you say and he chuckles.

“Nuh uh.” he says and sits up. “Lemme see your pretty face.”

You sit up too as he holds your face delicately in his hands. “You’re so gorgeous I wanna kiss you everywhere.” he kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, and your nose, your eyelids, then your jaw, and down, down, down your neck. Your heart beat starts to speed up. You never tell him, but your neck is your weakness. He finally pulls away to give you a proper kiss on the lips.

“C’mere.” he says and pulls you onto his lap. You let out a small squeal.

He holds your waist tight as he kisses you again, this time slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan a bit, enjoying the sensation.

You guys had made out before and even grinded a bit but it never went further than that. Not because you didn’t want it. Of course you wanted it. There have been nights where you spent hours imagining what it would be like. You already knew that he’d be sweet, but you kind of wanted more than that. You wanted him to take control and boss you around. Maybe today will be the day, you think to yourself.

You start to slowly rock your hips against his and he lets out a low groan. His fingers travel up your hoodie and he’s delighted to find out that you aren’t wearing a bra. He massages you and pinches your nipples a bit as you grind on his hard on. You’re already so stimulated, you could cum just like this.

Heeseung’s curious as to why you’re acting like this today. Usually by now it’d be over, but why would he complain about you being naughty, especially when it’s been such a big fantasy of his to corrupt you. His darling little girlfriend who checks in with her parents everyday and wouldn’t dare to skip school all sprawled out under him, whimpering and begging for release. God, he could think about it all day.

He flips you onto your back and pushes your hoodie up, exposing your torso. Your arms fly to cover yourself.

“Stop that princess,” he kisses your stomach. “Let me see you.”

You slowly pull your arms away and he goes right to kissing your chest. “So perfect.” he whispers, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

You’re already squirming underneath him, eager for him to touch you somewhere else. And as if he read your mind, his fingers start to play with the band of your pants.

He quickly unbuttons them and slides them off your legs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks and you nod eagerly.

“I’ve never done this before.” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he kisses your knee. “Just relax.”

He kisses your neck, licking it and nipping at it, leaving a blooming bruise. Your body tenses as he circles your clit.

“I didn't know you were this sensitive.” he smiles.

You feel your face heat up. It’s kind of embarrassing. He was barely touching you plus it was on top of your underwear.

“I’m just teasing baby.” he kisses your cheek and continues the circling motion.

Soft moans leave your mouth as he does so. He pulls away and notices a wet patch already forming on your underwear.

His fingers slip into the waistband. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Please?”

“You submit to me so well,” he nips at your neck. “I love it.”

His fingers find your slit and you whine.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers as he rubs your clit. “Did I get you that worked up princess?”

You nod pathetically, already drunk on his touch.

He circles around your hole for a bit before slowly pushing his middle finger into you. You hold on tight to his arm, getting used to the foreign feeling.

He pumps it in and out of you a couple of times. “You ready for another one?”

You nod and whine as his ring finger stretches you out.

“You’re doing so good.” he whispers and kisses your forehead.

Your moans get more and more needy as he curls his fingers in you hitting a spot that you’ve never felt before.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Feel good?” he asks and you nod. “I bet it does.”

He shifts down and settles his face between your legs.

“Wait what are you doing?” you ask him, shutting your knees. “I want to taste you,” he says. “Is that okay?”

You contemplate for a moment. The thought of it makes you a bit shy but then you imagined how good it would feel and that won over everything. “Yeah.” you nod and he smiles.

His fingers are still curling in you as he kisses your thighs, leaving small marks on the way down to where you need it the most.

After what feels like years, his tongue finally finds your clit. Your thighs shut from the sudden pleasure.

He chuckles. “Keep em open baby.” he uses his free hand to keep you spread.

He moans into you. “Tastes so fucking good.”

It’s so much to take in at once; his fingers in you, his tongue drawing circles on your clit, the vibrations you feel every time he groans. You feel overstimulated but in the best way possible.

Your fingers tug on his hair as your thighs begin to tremble.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” you cry out.

His grip on you tightens and he moans into you, encouraging you to cum in his mouth.

A string of curse words leaves your lips as you reach your high, and it’s the hardest you’ve ever came in your life. It’s like you’re floating up in the clouds, and you never want to come back down.

Heeseung kisses you, giving you a taste. He holds you tight in his arms and tries to calm your shaky breathing.

“You did so good doll.” he kisses your cheek.

You hold onto him as your heart rate goes down to normal.

“Here let me go get you a towel.” he starts get off the bed but you grab his arm.

“Wait we’re done?” you ask and he looks at you. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks and you nod.

“Yes,” you say and he chuckles.

He sits back down onto the bed. “I didn’t expect that.”

You climb on top of him and give him a passionate kiss, sliding your hands under his hoodie.

He pulls it over his head with ease.

You admire his lean body for a moment before kissing his neck and his collar bones. “Can you fuck me please?” you ask him.

He smirks. “Your wish is my command.” he flips you over onto your back and unbuttons his black jeans. Just watching him do it makes you wet.

He climbs over you, rubbing his tip on your clit. He sighs into your neck.

“You ready princess?” he asks and you nod vigorously.

He slowly pushes into you and you wince a bit from the stretch.

“Ow ow ow.” you say quietly and he stops.

“You okay? Does it hurt a lot?” he asks.

��It’s not bad.” you say through gritted teeth.

He kisses you, giving you time to adjust to his length. He pets your hair and tells you how gorgeous you look.

“Please start moving.” you ask him and he listens, slowly thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he moans. “So fucking tight.”

You whimper so loud as his tips brushes against your g-spot that you clamp your hand over your mouth, worried that Sunghoon and Jake would pick up on what was going on.

He pulls your hand away. “Be louder, I want them to hear you.”

“But-”

“Do as I say sweetheart.” he cuts you off.

Of course you melt under him. How could you not. He’s so perfect. He’s the type of boy that only exists in books.

“What a good girl,” he kisses your shoulder. “Look how well you take it.”

You grab a pillow and cover your face with it, you can’t help but want to conceal your moans.

He throws it off and grabs your jaw hard. “What’d I say about that? Don’t you want them to know how much of a slut you are for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Speak up when I talk to you.” he says sternly. His words make you throb and he notices. “Do you like it when I’m mean?” he smirks at you.

“Yeah,” you admit, sheepishly.

“There you go again being all quiet, keep that up and I’ll edge you until you’re begging.” he threatens you with a good time.

“What if I want you to do that anyway.” you say flirtatiously.

He raises an eyebrow. “I can make that happen.”

His thumb finds your clit and the sensation of him rubbing you and his cock ramming in and out of your pussy sends you so close over the edge.

The look on your face is so angelic and hopeless, you’re better than anything he could imagine.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” he kisses you. “You look so pretty while being fucked.”

He snaps his hips into yours and your eyes roll back.

“Just like that.” you whine.

“How bad do you want it?” he asks you.

“So bad,” you say out of desperation. At this point you don’t care. Heeseung had taken over your mind, ego, and pride. “You feel so fucking good inside of me.”

He smiles. “How could such a sweet voice say such dirty words.” Then all of the sudden he pulls out. You nearly cry out from the unexpected emptiness.

“What the fuck,” you swear at him.

“You’re the one who asked for this.” he says, still slowly rubbing your clit.

You whimper. “I take it back. I need you.”

“No take backs sweetheart.” he tsks.

He kisses your chest and pinches at your nipples. You writhe under him, needing him in you.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably a minute or so, he slams back into you and right after being satisfied, he pulls out again.

“Heeseung please,” you whine. “Please I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“You have, but I like doing this to you.” he kisses you. “Who knew my innocent girl would be begging for my cock like this.”

You pull at his waist. “I need it.” you tell him in the sweetest voice you could get out.

He sighs. “I’ll never win.” he kisses you again before pushing into you.

“Fuck yes,” you moan in relief. “Faster please.”

Thank god he listens to you.

You cling onto his back, pushing your nails into his skin a bit. It only takes thirty seconds to get you on the edge and Heeseung can tell by the way your moans are getting high pitched.

“Cum on this cock sweetheart,” he says lowly. “Be a good girl for me.”

And just like that, your whimpering his name like it’s the only word you know; like it’s your mantra.

“That’s it baby,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Your pussy pulsing around him sends him into euphoria and he groans into your neck.

You don’t even realize the tears on your cheeks until he pointed it out. He looks at you in shock and holds your face in his hands. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck I’m so sorry pumpkin I-”

“No no it just felt really good,” you giggle. “I didn’t even know I started crying.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighs in relief and kisses your forehead. “You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had you know.”

You laugh. “Stop it, you sound like a man whore.”

“Just being honest.” he smiles and pulls you into his arms.

“Shit,” you curse to yourself.

“What is it?”

“Jake and Sunghoon definitely heard us.” you say, wide eyed.

“Yeah probably,” he says “they probably got off on it too.”

Your face twists in disgust and you shove him in the shoulder.

He cackles. “I mean wouldn’t you?”

You think to yourself. “Yeah I probably would.”

[idy-ll-ique]

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

---

"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

oh

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[aimfor-theheart]

COIN TOSS– PART III

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I → PART II

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

↳ A playlist I made for this fic, if you're interested!

A/N: here is your final part to this series! again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing this!! and thank you guys so so much for your support and comments, they mean so so much to me!! i had a lot of trouble with this last part, there was a lot of scenes i cut out and alternative endings before i settled on what is there now and i'm not even fully happy with it still lol. i have a lot of Thoughts about this, so feel free to reach out if you want to know more or just chat!! i hope you guys enjoy this!!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta apologizes to you soon after. You sheepishly get out your own apology, even though you’d planned on holding a grudge a little while longer.

Still, Shouta confides that he also had his doubts and worries as a young hero and that he shouldn’t have dismissed yours. He talks in a soft, low voice for you, sits beside you on the edge of the couch.

You hate it because it’s easier to be at odds with Shouta lately, easier for your conscience. He put distance between the two of you, but you forced it apart further– if only to keep him in the dark. Maybe if only to spare yourself all the lying, all the pretending you’d have to do.

He says, “You know, you can always come to me. Whenever you need me.”

You have to swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

“I’ll always be here for you, despite everything.” he promises gently, trying to catch your eyes. Your gaze ducks away, out of his line of site.

Still, you hug him, tuck your face into his shoulder so he can’t see the guilt written across your face. Your secrets will constrict around you if you’re not careful. You know Truth is tricky and likes to reveal itself with Time’s help.

Once more, you become acutely aware of the clock ticking away on your relationship with Tomura.

But this time, you also realize how much trouble you could get in. You realize that you’re endangering Shouta now, too. You swallow hard, try to keep all of that down inside of you, but you feel nauseous suddenly. Bloated with guilt.

You wonder if you would’ve confessed to him then, if you would’ve spilled your guts the way you’d wanted to, if it would’ve saved you the heartache of it all.

Instead, you’d just clung to him, little fingers twisting in the back of his shirt, praying that you’d never need to make good on his promise. Praying you’d never need to test how far he’d go for you.

(It’s far– you’ll realize, further than it ever should’ve been. And you’re all the worse for it.)

***

Tomura thinks one of the troubles with heroes is their willingness to sacrifice anything for their greater good. He doesn’t think there’s anything noble in it, there’s nothing glorious or good in leaving their friend behind because they think it will save more. Nothing honorable in facing down a threat you know you can’t win against alone. What good is their world if they’re willing to sacrifice all that’s good to them in the process?

Everytime he watches you patrol, go up against other villains, maybe yakuza members, throw yourself in harm’s way needlessly, he realizes the Hero Commission uses heroes’ bodies as collateral damage. You are nothing to them. Even to other heroes; your sacrifice is expected. He knows it isn’t wanted, per se, but it isn’t surprising.

It doesn’t help that you have a streak of recklessness in you. You are quick to danger, just as quick to flash teeth and stand your ground, to fight mercilessly.

You struggle against large, powerhouse types. He watches you nearly get crushed or strangled some nights. Your Quirk doesn’t do much for you when your opponent has strength and weight to defeat you with a singular blow.

Your mentor is often pulling you out of danger with his capture weapon, yanking you away from a massive swinging arm or a curled fist about to smash you into the ground. But if it came down to you or the greater good, he knows what your mentor and your heroes would pick.

He thinks it’s strangely unfair, for you to give them your loyalty over him. He’s more loyal to you, isn’t he? There is very, very little he wouldn’t destroy for you. They would sooner let you be destroyed for the sake of their world.

Destroying the hero society that is so careless with you now feels, in part, like his gift to you. Freedom from the world that only cared about you when they realized you could be useful–

There is a night you become not just useful to your heroes but imperative.

It starts with your sacrifice, just as you were trained to do. You shove a civilian out of the way of a villain’s Quirk– it’s something with tusks and teeth that jut out from his body, sharp and ready to gut you.

Your mentor is busy with this villain’s accomplice.

Tomura watches when he shouldn’t. He was supposed to meet with Kurogiri, but he knows you patrol in this area and when there’d been commotion, he couldn’t help but watch from the shadows.

He watches one of those tusks jut towards you, your hand reaching out in hopes of disengaging the Quirk. But it’s a physical Quirk, not something like Dabi’s fire or his disintegration. And he doesn’t know if this Quirk disengages with it’s user or if it’s just his body.

Tomura feels his heart drop, the trapdoor given way to all icy fear as he watches one of those tusks pierce into your stomach.

Tomura stops breathing.

You grab hold of it, a scream getting caught behind your clenched teeth. Your fingers are tight, near frantic as you press into them– hope with everything in you, in him, that his Quirk disengages with yours.

Your broken off scream is wretched from your struggling body when another tusk rushes to crash into your shoulder.

You’re the only thing between the civilians behind you and this villain.

Your other hand reaches for the tusk at your shoulder, digging fingers and nails into it desperately.

Your eyes are bright and feverish with the hot pink of your Quirk.

Tomura stutters towards you, before the villain let’s out a pained groan. Your teeth are bared, blood bubbling up in your mouth, but you’re still standing, vicious and undeterred.

The tusks begin to crack where you grip them, splintering apart–

A sudden fission of light through those crevices, same fire pink as your eyes, arcs throughout the villain. A flare of it that makes the villain almost see-through, the lines of his bones burned by light, an x-ray flash, as if you’d struck him with lightning for a moment.

Eraserhead shouts for you.

When the flare dies, there is a scream of pain and it’s not yours.

The tusks shatter, splinter apart into gleaming bone that flies through the air.

You’re left standing, blood oozing from your stomach, your shoulder, but still standing, your eyes crackling and too bright.

The villain, tuskless, crumples at your feet, smoking. A normal, Quirkless looking man.

Did you–?

“What happened?” he hears the distant voice of your mentor, laced with worry, whose already reaching to staunch blood, blood that seeps so dark out of you. Tomura’s stomach rolls, twists suddenly, but you’re still standing. You’re okay– you’re okay–

“I-I don’t know.” you manage, but you sway into your mentor’s arms and Tomura has to look away, jaw clenched tight, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

He hears, “I need an ambulance– there’s a hero and villain down–”

But he’s already turning away, his mind churning, trying to keep the nauseousness from overcoming him. He feels suddenly furious, that it can’t be him at your side, that he has to watch, pushed to the outskirts. His fingers rush to scratch at his neck, his throat, desperate for relief from the pressure that has built in his chest.

He will try to call you– later, much later– the only time you’ll answer him. He is certain you will be okay with your healers and–

He thinks of the flare of light, the breaking of those tusks, the sudden heap of that man on the ground. If Tomura is correct about what you’d done, about what your Quirk actually is, the heroes won’t let you die now.

No, now you’re imperative. Now you’re trapped.

And the destruction of hero society will be his gift to you, an end to all the strings in place, the hands holding you both back.

***

“You destroyed his Quirk.”

“W-what?” you manage to get out, wobbly. You’re bandaged up, your torso and shoulder wrapped in fresh gauze after Recovery Girl healed the worst of your wounds. You’d been sleeping, hooked up to an IV to aid you in recovering. “That’s not possible, my Quirk only cancels–”

The doctor that has entered to give you this news shakes his head, “No, we’ve done scans, tests, the works on this guy. His Quirk is gone from his DNA. No trace of it.”

Shouta, who's sitting beside your hospital bed, speaks up, “Is it possible that it will eventually return?”

“I suppose, but we think it’s unlikely. It’s gone from him. There’s nothing left. She destroyed it cleanly. It’s like it was never there at all.” The doctor answers.

“I don’t understand–” you manage to get out, your head beginning to swim, giving a painful throb at your temples.

“It seems your Quirk isn’t so simple as cancelling out another’s. It’s likely that subduing other’s Quirks was just the surface of yours.”

“Is the man okay otherwise?” Shouta asks now, fidgeting in his seat when he senses your sudden distress. He leans towards your bed more and you have the sudden urge to latch onto him and not let go.

“Physically, yes. He’s fine.” the doctor answers, “However, mentally...he’s inconsolable at the moment. As you know, Quirks are incredibly– well, they’re a part of who we are, aren’t they?”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

You think Shouta says something else, finishes speaking to the doctor for you. The moment the door clicks shut, the tears that you stubbornly had been holding back rush forward.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you get out on just a hissed breath. “I-I didn’t know I could.”

Shouta shushes you gently, “It’s okay, this happens. Sometimes people don’t know the full extent of their Quirk.”

“I destroyed his Quirk, it’s not okay!” you respond, guilt thickening inside of you, dragging you down heavy, clogging your throat and chest. “I didn’t mean to do that– what if I do it again?”

“You were under distress,” he soothes, reaching out to brush a tear away from your cheek, “Really, you were fighting for your life.” And when he says it, something gets caught in his throat. Something hitches in yours, too.

His eyes rove over your face slowly, taking you in carefully, as if he hasn’t been by your side the entire time. As if it wasn’t him in the ambulance, or him kneeling beside your bed when Recovery Girl put you back together.

“I should’ve been there. It shouldn’t have happened.” Shouta admits, the confession filling the small space between you two.

You take him in now, too, tired and worried, his face finally displaying the fear and care he has for you. It softens out his features, turns his eyes gentle and dark.

You realize suddenly that you miss him. You miss quiet nights on his couch as he graded papers. You miss his clothes and his cats and the tenderness that blossomed in all your silent spaces to fill you both out.

You wonder if he misses you as bad as you’re realizing you miss him.

You think of him cooking for one again, eating alone, and it does something horrible to your heart– mangles it, twists it up horribly.

It’s made all the worse because you’re lying to him. And here he is, at your bedside.

“S’okay, Shouta,” you get out, reaching up to touch his cheek with a trembling hand. He leans into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. He savors your touch in a way that he hasn’t ever allowed himself to before.

But after a moment, he shakes his head fractionally, and he murmurs “I’m supposed to protect you.”

You don’t know why, but your bottom lip wobbles. Big, fat tears well up in your eyes, burn hot and put pressure on your already foggy head. You feel like you’re unraveling, your chest all swollen and tender, too, aching horribly.

You can’t decide if it’s because you’re lying and disobeying him so badly or because no one has ever bothered to say something like that to you, let alone mean it.

And you’re betraying him, your mind hisses.

When he notices, his face falls, his thumb moving to try and brush away your tears. “Don’t cry,” he hushes, “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You lean into his large and warm palm at your cheek, let him cradle and coddle you.

“I-I’m sorry–” you barely manage to choke out, for reasons far beyond him.

“No,” he coos, “No, sweetheart, don’t apologize.”

You choke on a sob and he grows more worried, leans over you more, brings his other hand up to stroke at your hairline, too.

He says your name softly, trying to soothe you, “Why are you crying, huh? What are you apologizing for?”

You shake your head, more tears loosening, your small fingers twisting themselves in the shoulders of his shirt. You think you’ll drown in all this guilt, it’ll fill your lungs with pressure, choke you out slowly as you struggle and thrash.

But for now, all you get out is a warbled, slurred, “Please don’t hate me–”

Shouta moves then, shifts to sit beside you on the bed. He’s painfully careful with you as he slides strong and sturdy arms beneath you, lifts you slightly into his lap, mindful of your IV, and cradles you to him.

You bury your face into his chest and try to hold back another sob as he murmurs, “Why would I hate you? I could never hate you.”

He strokes your hair, he hushes your cries, rocking you gently. Rocking you until you can stop crying, until you’re exhausted and aching and tender.

“I’ll help you with your Quirk,” he promises gently, holding you tight to him, “We’ll be okay, huh?” he murmurs, and it just forces another cry out of you, swallowed up by his chest that he cradles you to, “We’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

It’s the we’ll in that sentence that makes you squeeze him tighter. You wonder how willing he’d be to use it if he knew where you were every other night, who you filled your time with.

If he knew who called you late that night, when you’re alone in your room, aching and sore and alone. If he knew who you answered to, your voice hushed in the inky darkness;

“Tomura,” you exhale his name through the receiver.

“I saw what happened,” he answers instead, “I saw what happened today.”

You can feel the sudden jump of your heart, your nerves wringing themselves tight. “Oh,” you respond lamely.

To your surprise, Tomura rasps, “Are you okay?”

You don’t know why, but you cradle the phone to your cheek tighter, your eyes slipping shut for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sore and tired, but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he responds, his voice softer than it usually is, just a breath when he asks, “What happened? What’d you do to him?”

You’re silent for a long moment. You can’t decide if you should tell him or not. You think of Shouta earlier and his voice like a hearth and the tender way he holds you, you think of his we’ll be okay.

But you can hear Tomura’s soft breath on the other line. You can see Ryuji in the patch of sun that splays out against the corner of the couch in the evenings. You think of him curled tight around you, like you’re the last good thing left on earth.

“I destroyed his Quirk,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “With mine.”

“That’s new,” Tomura almost hums, but it nearly seems like he was expecting the answer.

“I didn’t mean to.”

A quiet snort from him, “What are you trying to prove to me?” he asks, “I’m not your heroes. I won’t look at you differently whether you intended to or not.”

The thought strikes like an arrow between the ribs, sharp, sudden. It stings, when you realize it’s truth. How hard have you tried to prove yourself to Shouta? How hard are you trying to prove your goodness to yourself?

“You could’ve killed him,” Tomura says, “And I wouldn’t think differently.”

You wince for some reason when he says that, “Don’t–”

“What would your heroes think then?”

“Tomura–” you snap, voice gaining some bite, a warning.

But for some reason he presses, “How badly does the Hero Commission want you now? With a Quirk like that?”

“What?” you ask, suddenly shocked.

“Don’t be naive,” Tomura says and there’s an edge to his voice. He sucks in a breath, “That’s a big Quirk. Destroying someone else’s? You don’t think they’ll be interested in that?”

You feel the pressure of tears work their way through your head, your throat. Your fingers clutch so hard at the phone that your knuckles are turning white and before you can think, you hiss out, “And how interested are you now?”

“As interested as I was before.” he returns, sharp and quick, and then with a vitriol he hasn’t directed at you in months, he says, “Don’t compare me to them.”

You bare your teeth, tears stinging sharp at your eyes, prepared to fight back when he hisses, “Mark my words, they won’t let you go now.”

“Stop it,” you spit, “You don’t know anything–”

And he laughs at that, caustic, harsh, a grating sound. Villainous. It slithers through the phone, down your spine. Your stomach twists. You hate this– your head is throbbing. You don’t want to fight. You want to stop crying, God, you wish you could just stop crying–

“I’ll be here when you realize it.” he says and there is too much heat behind his voice, simmering and venomous. You can feel the end of this conversation, the bitter goodbye in his words.

Your bottom lip trembles, and for some foolish, lovesick reason, you gasp, “Wait– don’t hang up–”

But you hear the click of the other line and he’s fallen away from you, leaving you with an empty, static silence that buzzes around in your head. In your heart.

You throw your phone across the room. You hear it clatter somewhere in the darkness. You turn to press your face into your pillow and let out a sudden, childish scream. It tears at your throat, before tapering off into this pathetic little sob.

It’s worse because he ends up being right.

And it’s ironic because it’s another string tethering you to him, the ability to destroy something with a touch.

It’s like some part of him knew all along, or maybe some part of you.

You scream into your pillow again, louder, kicking at your covers before it breaks off into a bitter cry.

***

The Hero Commission is very interested in the new discovery of your Quirk. They run tests and scans on you, over and over again, trying to find something interesting. They want you to practice with it, but there’s no way for you to practice without potentially destroying other people’s Quirks.

They offer up criminals to practice on.

It turns your stomach.

“I don’t want to do this,” you tell Shouta one night after another long series of poking and prodding at you by white coats from the Hero Commission.

Shouta is silent for a moment, “No one is making you.”

“But they want me to. It’s expected of me.” you tell him.

“They want to make sure you can control it,” Shouta answers, “And the only way to do that is practice, unfortunately.”

Or do they just want to be sure they can control me? The question bubbles up unbridled inside of you. It sounds suspiciously like Tomura’s voice.

You frown, “I can control it. I don’t go around destroying Quirks with every touch. I just mute Quirks still.”

“Under distress, too? Can you summon it completely calmly? Or stop it in an instant?” Shouta asks.

“I don’t know– no, I don’t think so.”

“Then you can’t fully control it.” he answers, which makes you ball your hands into fists.

“It doesn’t feel right taking people’s Quirks– practice or not. And it’s controlled enough.” you respond, gaining a sudden edge to your voice.

“Then don’t do it.” Shouta responds, almost impassively.

You try not to grow upset or so frustrated that you say something you might regret. You swallow tightly. “Will you be disappointed? If I don’t?”

Shouta tilts his head and in the quietness you fear he will be, but he eventually answers, “No. You’re right; you have it controlled enough that it doesn’t hinder your day-to-day life.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Besides, if you’re under that amount of distress again, it probably flares for a good reason. It’ll probably save you if you ever need it again.” Shouta then says, “And if what they want you to do doesn’t feel right to you, then you shouldn’t do it.”

You stare up at him, a little surprised but–

Relief sweeps through you, sweet and cool.

“I trust your instincts,” Shouta says, the curl of his lips small but promising, as he reaches out to nudge your chin with his knuckle.

The guilt blindsides you later, so hard that it makes you lock yourself in your bathroom and keep a sob trapped behind the palm of your hands.

But for now, you smile up at him, the curve of your smirk playful, something he hasn’t seen from you in what feels like forever that you give to him again freely.

“Can I get that one in writing?” you ask and his answering laugh strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you dizzy and it’s like hearing the notes to one of your favorite songs that you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Like you couldn’t ever imagine forgetting it, now that you’ve heard it again.

***

Tomura wonders what it will take to make you leave your heroes.

Specifically, your precious mentor.

When he sees you again, you look like you did before nearly bleeding out in front of him and destroying the Quirk of another. It’s almost as if it never happened at all, almost like your argument never happened at all, either. In this little apartment where the rest of the world doesn’t exist, just you and him and sometimes Ryuji.

Except when he lifts your shirt there is a twisted, ugly scar from where they patched you up. Another at your shoulder. He doesn’t kiss it or run his fingers over it gently, he doesn’t make any sort of comment. He just thumbs at your waist and glares at it, wishes he could make it disappear like the villain who gave it to you.

(Not because he finds it ugly or unacceptable, only that it is now a permanent reminder of what he’d seen. Only that it reminds him that you are not guaranteed to him, not in life nor in loyalty).

You’re a little hesitant with him now. You feel more fragile to him now, too, like you’re holding something back, waiting for everything to finally fall.

The inevitable crash and break.

Tomura is gentler with you– he knows he needs to play his cards right now. It’s crucial. Something is building, even for the League of Villains. There’s more on the horizons.

And despite everything, he wants you there, when the sun is bloody and falling on a dismembered, new world.

He thinks he shouldn’t have pushed you now, when you’re so delicate, barely stitched together. But he had– he’d started another argument. He’d tried to convince you of the heroes’ lack of care for you, their greediness upon discovering the depth of your Quirk.

You throw it back in his face; isn’t that what All For One does to him? Isn’t that what he does for the League of Villains? Aren’t they all just pawns for him? Is that what he wants of you?

He seethes, digging into the skin of his neck desperately. You don’t stop him. He can feel the facade of this little apartment beginning to crumble, fall away into dust and he–

He knows he destroys everything he touches.

But you were supposed to be different.

(You are, his mind hisses, you are, you are, and that’s the worst part of it all).

You storm out that night. You leave him, no doubt to return to your precious mentor.

He thinks about destroying the entire apartment complex. He could now– he knows what’s coming. He won’t be staying here any longer. He has plans, so many plans.

You come back to him a week later, though. You’re bound to him in some way, returning again and again when you know you shouldn’t.

The make-up part is nice, with him buried so deep inside you that he’s trying to turn your stomach. Make you sick with him, the way he is with you. Your gasping moans, with the arch of your body far too pretty for hands like his.

And still, you lay on his chest afterwards, you let him run his fingers over the planes of your shoulders, the line of your pretty neck. He drags his knuckles against your soft skin, enamored with the feeling, with the way you soothe the haunting, sunken part of him. His Quirk submits to yours easily, dimmed inside of him. Maybe he should be frightened of your new potential.

But you’ve never been frightened of him, so he’s not of you, either.

You’re very bold, though, he thinks, for you to say, “Your parents were cruel.” After the argument you both had last time.

He tenses beneath you, grits his teeth. He’d thought you’d both learned your lesson, getting too personal in a place as sacred as here.

“You don’t know anything,” he says and it’s just a breath. Surprisingly toothless. He’d said it to you last time, in your argument. You’d said it to him before that. It feels almost ironic now.

You shake your head against his chest, your nose nudging into him, lips soft against his skin. You remain calm. “I know your name is Tomura. They were very cruel to give you that name.”

You say this as if it’s a fact, something as simple as the sky being blue. But it’s dark out now and the stars are dull, the moon just a scythe in the sky, caught in the window’s glare.

“What?” he demands quietly.

At least you have the guts to tilt your head up to find his eyes now. You look up at him through dark lashes.

“Your name–” you say again, gentle, “It means ‘to mourn.’ I don’t know why anyone would give their child such a sad name.”

He knows what his name means.

But this takes him by surprise, for some reason. Only because it’s not the name his parents gave him. You don’t know that, though. You don’t know anything about him, technically. He has the urge to tell you suddenly, that’s not my name.

He doesn’t, though. He stays silent. It’s his name now. And he likes the way you say it, the syllabus softened by whatever it is you feel for him.

(He won’t give it a name, he’s realizing now that names can be very powerful.)

Your fingers are gentle on him, rubbing strange patterns against a scar near his collar bone.

You have rendered him silent.

And eventually, as you begin to drift off to sleep, you murmur, “You were just a kid, you know?”

He doesn’t really know what you’re getting at, only that it does something strange to the tempo of his heart. He swallows hard, tries to keep his fingers gentle on you. Your breathing has slowed, the rise and fall of your back measured and even, but his has gotten tight.

He squeezes you against him, glaring at nothing, at darkness.

You were just a kid, you know?

It’s this part of you, the one that sees the human in him, that makes him think maybe you will be at his side until the bitter end of it all. Your compassion, the sympathy you have for the child he was, for the person he somehow became. Your unending ability to understand the worst of people.

He doesn’t dwell on the child he was, just has buried it in the cemetery of his chest– a part of him that only you have been able to reach through Quirk, through something too massive to name. You’ve soothed it, put it to rest like the dead, lit your incense in the spaces of his heart. Said your prayers along the notches of his ribs. Tried to appease that restless spirit that possesses him.

He doesn’t know why, but he starts to shake. He can hardly breathe.

And in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep, and his secrets will be lost to your dreams, he admits for the first time in years what has always trembled inside him. He speaks the tragedy that has made a home of his body, the mourning that he was given name to;

“I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.”

***

Tomura thinks, for a moment, when you’re splattered in blood, that this will be your great turning point.

Your fall, the tearing and burning of your wings from your holy back. It will hurt, but he will be there on the ground with you, a hand extended to guide you. He will be there to cradle you into his chest, to hold you close when your world falls apart.

The way All For One was there for him.

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero.

But you save the wrong person.

Toga’s been following him around as she does every so often, dogging in his shadow, skipping along beside him. You’ve become accustomed to her, too. She likes having you around. Something about not being the only girl. You’re kind to her in the same way he thinks you probably wanted kindness at her age.

The sky is mottled purple, bruised as the day sets into night. The sun looks like an open wound, violent and red.

When he thinks about it, he figures he should’ve been more careful, but then there’s a petty villain Tomura knows vaguely, someone they’ve clashed with before, who he’s pretty sure Dabi and Toga pissed off. He spots Toga first. Your back is turned to him.

“Uh oh,” Toga says, peering over your shoulder.

Tomura grabs your wrist, “Hide,” he hisses, and when you try to peer over your shoulder at what Toga is looking at, he forces you back around so the villain doesn’t see your face.

He doesn’t know why he saves you like that. Only that he doesn’t want you to get in trouble, doesn’t want you taken from him like that. He is not an idiot; if the villain recognizes you, if it somehow got around that you were seen with two of the most notorious villains, the Hero Commission would eat you alive.

And here’s the part that really gets him. You listen to him. You trust him.

You dart away, swift and fast like a fox, disappearing into the shadows the way you were trained to.

“Hey!” the villain shouts and he’s large, Tomura remembers now.

Stupid, too, he thinks, as he barrels towards them.

The glint of Toga’s knife in the sun makes him pause.

Better to not engage, Tomura thinks, not yet, not now. Too much on the horizon for something foolish to happen tonight. The apartment isn’t far from here. He hopes you’ll retreat there. He just needs to get Toga away safely now.

“Oh, I’ve missed fighting!” she sings.

“No,” Tomura rasps, “Don’t engage. We need to go, too.”

She whines a long and drawn out, “Why?” just as the hulking mass of a person swings at her. She ducks away easily, quickly.

However, then his Quirk bursts to life and it’s far worse than what Tomura had hoped for. He doubles in size, his arms in particular growing longer, and fill out with what seems to be rushing water.

“Dammit, Toga,” he hisses, shoving her out of the way as the villain blasts a large cannon of water at her.

Tomura takes the hit hard, black coloring his vision when he hits the ground.

In truth, he thinks he is out for at least a full minute, because when he’s come to, you’re shouting at the villain. You’re tugging desperately at his massive shoulder, clawing and screaming. You’ve canceled his Quirk, but he’s still too big, even without it.

Toga is pinned beneath that arm, choking and spluttering, drenched. It actually looks like she’s choking on water. She can’t even scream, too garbled, too water-logged. She looks like a doll, she looks horribly small. Her face is turning a deep shade of red as she struggles for breath. Her little hands claw at his wrist, too.

Tomura tries to stand, his vision swimming, swaying so bad that for a minute everything goes sideways.

Fuck, he curses, just as he watches you get tossed away by that villain’s other hand like you’re nothing. His Quirk suddenly ripples back to life and he blasts Toga with another bout of water, plastering her to the gravel, the onslaught of it unending.

You’re up in an instant, throwing yourself onto his neck, trying to wrench him off. His Quirk disengages again, and Toga heaves and gasps for breath, coughing up large amounts of water.

“You’re going to kill her!” Tomura finally can catch onto what you’re saying, what you’re desperately screaming. His ears ring.

You get thrown off again. More water. Toga is being blasted so hard that she can’t even choke or struggle.

Tomura thinks you’re trying to rationalize with them, you’re trying to explain you’re a hero. And to disengage. Stop, please stop, please stop–

He’s not listening, though, of course.

And he’s too big. You tried knocking him out, tried putting him to sleep with the grip of your elbow. You’re trying everything, even to crush his Quirk beneath yours. Tomura catches the flutters of pink, your inability to summon your destruction when you need it.

It wouldn’t matter anyways, not with how big he is. You struggle against powerhouses.

Tomura stumbles.

But you’ve always been gritty and sharp and determined, if nothing else. You have always fought so desperately for your life, never mind law or honor or glory.

He thinks he catches the glint of your knife, the desperate threat to let her go, leave her alone!

The villain grabs you with a massive hand around the throat, lifts you clear off the ground.

Toga has gone slack against the pavement in a puddle of water, face colored a strange shade of red and blue. A little like the way the sky blurs before his eyes.

You kick and thrash, a horrible growl wretched from your throat. You don’t think, just lash out.

And then there is blood. So much blood. It’s all over Toga now, seeping into the water– did she cut him? She managed to cut his throat? Because that’s where the blood is pouring out of–

Tomura sways.

You’re dropped.

You stumble away.

Your blade– the one you used to threaten him with, is bloody.

“Fuck!” you shout, raw and so sudden that it jars him a little. He forces himself over to the scene. So much blood. His stomach rolls.

He looks at you, your shell-shocked face. You’re looking at the knife, at the blood. At Toga, who's still not moving.

He goes to her first, tries to shake her a little, fingers held away from her shoulders carefully. For a moment, she doesn’t respond, limp and lifeless and something inside of him threatens to overwhelm him. No, no–

Her eyes flutter, though, and she wheezes for a breath, suddenly turning over to vomit up far too much water.

“I-Is she-?” your voice, so small and lost, cuts through his thoughts.

He looks at you again, blood splattered and terror caught in your eyes. Pale and slack faced and half-mad. You look like a ghost, standing there in the aftermath, in your gruesomeness.

“She’s fine,” he says, just as she wretches up more water, “You saved her.”

Toga falls limp again. He checks frantically for a pulse at her wrist with two careful fingers. Still there. She needs a doctor, though. He stands to face you.

You make a noise, high pitched, trembling. You cover your mouth to keep it in, it’s something like a sob, an animalistic noise.

“I didn’t mean to– I didn’t, I didn’t– she was just–” you’re trying to get out, almost doubled over now.

Tomura doesn’t bother to check if you killed the villain. He knows the dead when he sees it. And he won’t lie to you now, he won’t soften this blow or shield you from it.

But he also knows what he needs to do.

You keel over, about to scream more and– no, that won’t do you any good.

He grabs for you, hauls you back up and you’re shaking so hard that he fears you’re going to split apart. You’re about to lose it.

“Listen to me,” Tomura hisses and you choke on a cry. He shakes you a little, tries to force you to look at him and not the body behind him. Your eyes, feverish pink, meet the wildfire of his, “Listen to me.”

“I– I don’t–”

“Sshh,” Tomura hisses, palm going to your cheek, a little too rough, forcing you to look at only him. “Sshh, listen.”

You try to swallow and he continues, “You’re going to call reinforcements. You’re going to tell them there’s a villain down.”

“W-what?! I’m going to– they’re going to–”

He shakes you again, harder, your teeth click together with the force of it. He needs you to understand this– needs you to hear this if he wants to keep you safe and out of jail.

“Tell them I decayed him. And before that, tell them Toga cut him, and it splattered onto you. Say you heard commotion and like the good hero you are, you ran to help.”

“Tomura–” you sob.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps instead, grabbing you harder, his fingers curling against your cheek to press desperately into you. “Answer me!”

“Yes–” you gasp, wide-eyed and terrified. “Yes!”

“Good,” he hushes, wiping blood from your cheek, “Good. You saved her,” he tells you, “You saved her, do you understand?”

You nod, jerky, and he continues, hand petting your cheek, messily pushing your hair from your face, “You did everything right.”

Your breathing is still labored, but you’re quieting with the praise. When he thinks you can handle it, he breathes, “Now, are you ready? I’m going to decay him and the knife, then I’m going to leave with Toga. You’re going to call for help.”

You glance at the villain, lying lifeless, in his own pool of blood and Tomura ducks his head to force you to look at him. “Okay?” he asks, “Answer me.”

“Okay,” you exhale slowly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Good. Now give me the knife.”

You press it, trembling, into his hands. It’s slick with blood. He forces himself to stay calm for you.

He steps away, let’s go of you. The knife turns to dust.

“Look away,” he commands then, his voice a rasp.

And you– you listen to him. You trust him. You turn away. He sets his hands on the villain. And just like that, his body breaks down, gore at first, until it is nothing but dust. It blows away easily.

And then he goes to Toga and he lifts her carefully. She’s like a ragdoll in his arms, soaked and cold. He’s certain to keep his hands away from her, fingers lifted away, but she lolls into his chest.

When you turn around, Tomura says, “Thank you for saving her.” And he means it.

You swallow hard. You look to where the villain was. He’s gone now.

“Now call your heroes, just like I said.”

You nod, eyes filling up with tears. That’s fine. They’ll have more sympathy for you, for what you’ve witnessed. They’ll believe you more. Your mentor will protect you, with those tears in your eyes.

Tomura’s eyes burn crimson as you pull out your phone, “Do what I said and you’ll be okay.”

And you do, just like that. You lift the phone to your ear. That semblance of calm that he had coaxed you into shatters the moment someone picks up on the other end.

Your voice goes high, near hysterical, “T-There’s a villain down–”

He turns away from you as you stutter and cry into the phone about what happened. You give them the lie he told you to feed them. You make Tomura out to be the villain, you make yourself out to be innocent. He holds Toga close to him.

He tries not to smile, a dizzy slip of a thing, as you do exactly as he told you to– as you lie and lie and lie through your teeth.

Toga stirs in his arms. Police sirens are heard in the distance. An ambulance for a pile of dust. The sun sets, darkness blanketing the world, shielding it from the light.

And as he stalks away, with Toga alive and in his arms, he thinks maybe he’ll make a villain of you yet.

***

The police believe you. It’s hard not to, when there is so little evidence otherwise. Tomura destroyed it all for you. It’s hard not to believe you, when you’re crying and terrified, as you should be for witnessing the death of another person at the hands of Himiko Toga and Shigaraki Tomura.

Shouta, however, is not as easily convinced.

Not after so many strange occurrences with Tomura.

When he brings you back to his apartment, when the door is shut tight, and you still stand in bloodied clothes with your teeth chattering, Shouta eyes you warily.

You want to shower, burn yourself beneath the spray of water, like you could wash away what you’d done. You squeeze your eyes shut.

You saved her.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“What really happened?” Shouta asks, almost tentatively, standing in the middle of his living room.

You turn and you don’t– you don’t know how you should react. Should you be offended that he’d doubt you? React in outrage after all that’s happened? Should you act confused? Play dumb?

You can’t stomach any of it. Not when someone’s dead at your hands. But someone is alive because of them, too.

Your eyes well up with fresh tears.

“I-I told you.” you choke out.

Shouta’s jaw ticks. He draws in a slow breath, “Something isn’t adding up. You have had more contact with Shigaraki Tomura than anyone has been able to have.”

Your stomach drops. Your tears fall harder.

“What’s going on?” he asks and the distance between you two feels massive. It feels continental in the small space of his living room. He seems suspicious.

The lie comes out on a sob, “I–I think he’s been stalking me.”

“What?” Shouta asks and any uncertainty he has in you evaporates as he watches your face crumple.

You let your guilt overwhelm you into choking on another cry, cover your mouth as if you could catch it in the palm of your hand. Shouta doesn’t know the truth of it, so he believes it.

He crosses that distance like it’s nothing now. He stands tall in front of you, reaches to try and brush tears away from your cheek.

“I don’t know–” you gasp, filling out your lie, “I think he's interested in me because of my Quirk. Because he can’t– I can’t decay, when he touches me.”

Shouta tips your face up towards his but you can’t look him in the eyes, let your eyes squeeze shut when he asks, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know–” you choke out, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Did something else happen?” Shouta prods gently and you grit your teeth to keep back another sob. More tears cut tracks down your face, right into Shouta’s waiting, gentle hands.

There is a long moment where you think of giving everything up. You think of telling Shouta everything, if only to lift the weight that has settled onto your chest. Surely, it will crush through your sternum, surely your heart will burst with it’s pressure.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper, “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No,” Shouta says then, gentle but firm, shaking his head, “I know it may feel like it–”

“He was going to kill her.”

This stops Shouta. He goes very, very still.

“What?” he rasps softly.

“He was drowning her– he wouldn’t stop. I tried to get him to stop and he started choking me–and she saved me by–” It’s a fabrication to save yourself. That’s not how it went! Your mind screeches, that’s not how it went– you saved her by killing–

Toga was turning blue, she didn’t help you. She didn’t save you. She was drowning. She didn’t kill him. You did.

“You saved Toga Himiko, a notorious villain, one of the most wanted–”

“He was killing her!” you hiss, “She was turning blue–”

“She’s a powerful villain, too, you should’ve tried–”

Something inside of you fractures, bursts apart the way glass does when thrown against a wall. You think there are a million, shining pieces of you now lying on the floor.

“She’s Shinsou’s age!” you snap, hoping one of your shards cuts him, suddenly half-furious through all your tears. “She’s Shinsou’s age, do you know that?!”

You break now, wrenching away from Shouta’s touch and rushing to double over the sink to dry heave again, body squeezing painfully. You threw up everything in your stomach already at the scene, when recounting the story to the police, to Shouta. You claw at your stomach, trying to stop it, to keep it all down inside of you. You curl your fingers into the divots of your ribs, try to force them to give you air, but they won’t– betrayers that they are, they squeeze and squeeze until there’s nothing of you left.

Your knees buckle, head spinning when you turn away from the sink and crumple into a heap on the floor,“She’s just a kid,” you wail desperately, “That’s all I saw when I tried– when I–”

Your head bows forward, body folded in on itself, forehead digging into the ground as you cry, “I didn’t mean for him to die, I didn’t mean it– I didn’t, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Shouta moves again finally, drops to his knees down beside you. He cradles your skull in his large hand, pushes your head into the crook of his neck to hold you, “It’s alright,” he breathes, curling his other arm tight around you, “It’s not your fault,” he hushes, “It’s not your fault.” You sob hard into his chest, fingernails digging into him, clawing at his biceps, “Sshh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

And he holds you, buries you in the bulk of him, like he always has when you need him. Your constant, the love you never once deserved. Especially not now. Especially not here, with blood stained on your clothes, sunk to the floor with nothing but the anchor of your guilt.

He strokes your hairline, gentle, cooing softly to try and calm you.

He murmurs, his voice so deep and soft and earnest, “You’re a good hero.” When you make a strangled noise against him, he presses on, “You are. You’re compassionate. You see everyone’s humanity and that’s a good thing.”

He hushes more of your cries, fingers gentle in your hair, and you try not to throw up again when he tells you;

“You’re a good hero, I promise. I promise.”

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero for a villain.

***

The next time you see Tomura, he questions you about what happened, if you pulled it off. You tell him you managed it, somehow. You don’t tell him anything else. You don’t tell him you haven’t been sleeping, that you can hardly keep food down. You don’t tell him that you take too many showers, trying to wash away the phantom blood.

You remember when it was Tomura’s blood on you, so long ago. A beginning that now seems so hazy. You hadn’t minded blood, then. You had never been particularly squeamish but now–

Now it could make you sick on your best days, downright hysterical on your worst.

Your guilt tears chunks out of you, bites down and shakes the meaty, soft parts of you until you’re all torn up.

It is easier to be with Tomura than Shouta now.

We have more in common, you think, and it makes you want to laugh, empty and wobbly.

You look in mirrors and hardly recognize yourself, wonder if this is really your body. If this is really your life, or if it’s someone else’s. Maybe you are possessed, maybe that explains how you got here.

You don’t tell him any of this. You stay silent.

And that’s okay because Tomura seems strangely quiet after that, pulling you to lay on his chest. He doesn’t let you put the TV on. You can tell he needs to think. You let your eyes drift close as he runs his fingers through your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, compared to his usual petting.

But eventually he says, so soft that you fear you almost imagined it, “A yakuza head visited the League recently.”

Your eyes flutter open and in your surprise, you sit up a little, looking down at him. “Tomura–” you start, almost a warning.

He knows he isn’t supposed to talk like this here, in this little slice of another world.

But he continues anyways, his voice just a rough scratch, “He killed Magne.” And then, “And Compress no longer has an arm.”

Now you really pull away to look at him. You can feel your eyes widen out, your shock, then the stomach-turning sadness. His face is unreadable, but his jaw is tight. His eyes are simmering, so red, even in the low light like this.

“It was a set up.” he hisses, “I failed them.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can feel the slightest tremble in his body.

You hurt for him, you realize, your heart falling into the pit of your stomach. Those are two of his closest, some of his inner circle.

He looks shaken.

He looks young, with the weight of his world on his shoulders, with the crown of thorns placed on his head. Heir to a monstrous throne. All For One’s successor, boy prince to inherit an underground empire.

You just see him, though, just Tomura who's twenty, who likes sour candy and video games.

He swallows hard. He looks angry and hurt.

“Nobody mourns us,” he says eventually, looking away from you, somewhere in the darkness of the apartment.

Except you, you want to say, with a name like Tomura.

You lurch forward, throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tight to you. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, soft, the way Shouta speaks to you, “I’m sorry.”

And then you think, I’d mourn you, and you squeeze him tighter, I’d mourn you, oh God, I’d mourn you–

He doesn’t hug you back, but you can feel the shaky breath he exhales, and the way his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt.

***

Tomura thinks it should be you, at his side, when he takes Overhaul’s arm. You are everything Overhaul wants. Your Quirk is what he has tried to bottle.

Tomura thinks you could’ve been useful, to switch off his Quirk, to destroy it in an incredible twist of irony. It would’ve been the ultimate power move, to have you at his side by the end of all of this.

But you’re not there, no, not with him.

You’re with your heroes, Toga had told him.

It shouldn’t, but it feels like a betrayal. It stings hard and sharp inside of him, like a livid bee that jabs at his heart.

He seethes about it. Hadn’t he done everything right with you? He’d played this game slow, knew that the rewards would be worth it.

You’re still walking away from him, though. You’re still not his.

And you’ve still got one of his ribs, left a gaping wound inside of him.

He wants it back. He wants it back.

***

Eri looks up at you with watery, red eyes when you first introduce yourself to her. You crouch to be on her level. She has silver hair. She’s timid, wobbly bottom lip and flushed cheeks.

You almost start crying, looking at her now. You wonder if this is what Tomura was like as a child– small and terrified of his Quirk, round red eyes pleading with the world. All you see in her is every other forgotten child.

“Hi, Eri,” you hush, half for her, half because you’re scared your voice might break.

“H-hello,” she trembles.

You try to keep your smile in place, but it’s a weak, sad thing.

Still, you say, “I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll have me.” And you extend your hand to her, palm up and offering. “I have a Quirk like Mr. Aizawa’s.” you tell her gently, “If you touch me while using your Quirk, it’ll stop.”

She brightens at this, not smiling but, surprised, “Really?” she asks, just a breath.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat, “Really.”

She takes your hand then, eager, tightening with her small fingers, despite her Quirk still being off.

Then she looks up into your face and offers you a tentative smile. Small, just the corner of her lips lifting up.

“I’d like to be your friend, too.” she murmurs bashfully and you close your hand around hers. It’s small, almost fragile. She’s all bandaged up, arms wrapped in gauze.

You look at Eri and her red eyes and silver hair and see a coin toss, see it up in the air, spinning and spinning, catching in the light. A twist of fate like the flip of a coin.

But you think you could call it now, with her hand in yours, and the heroes that hover protectively around her.

***

There is a morning shared in blush light that isn’t the ending but feels like it could be one. In truth, you’d prefer to remember this as the ending, more of a whimper and less of a bang. The night before had been one of your better ones, too– you’d only woken once with a nightmare. Tomura had already been awake and he’d soothed you with a careful hand that drew patterns across the bare skin of your back.

That night, that morning, was gentle in the wake of all that violence, love taken root, finally bursting through your veins to make a mess of your insides.

Dawn is too mellow a place for the two of you.

(You have come to the conclusion that Tomura looks best in dusk, saturated, sharp and rich in color. Bold and vivid. You didn’t know it, but he thought the same of you.)

You never told him you loved him.

You think about that a lot, wonder if it would’ve made a difference in anything. You wonder who was the last person to tell him that, if anyone at all.

He’s still half hoping that you’ll follow him, but you think he knows he’s losing you. You are not content in fuming misery, cannot stomach to leave the mentor that has loved and cared for you with such perseverance and softness. You cannot stomach to turn away from the boy with violet hair, or now the girl that reminds you of him.

You wish you could keep him, too, despite it all, but all you see in the future with him is rubble.

In the least, you’ve always had a sense of preservations, survivor that you are, scavenger that you are. You know when to move on, can’t linger too much longer now or you won’t live through it.

You sleep better with Tomura, though, and that’s the cruel part. You wake with less nightmares. You sleep more soundly, wound up in him, so tight that you two might just grow together. Palm to palm, your Quirk quieting his, lulled and softened.

And that morning, you wake slowly, twisting around fitfully with the warmth that has blossomed gently inside of you.

Consciousness creeps to you, fighting against the pull of sleep, being coaxed awake by the fluttering of your heart, the slow roll in your core.

Your eyes lift, heavy with sleep, finally awake. You blink blearily before a sudden, sleep soft cry escapes past your lips.

You glance down the line of your body to find Tomura nestled between your legs, tongue tracing messy patterns into where you’re most sensitive. Your stomach swoops sweetly, flares into a spark of heat.

The light is soft on him. He cracks a ruby eye open to gaze at you, to open his mouth so you can watch the flash of glistening pink as his tongue laves against you slowly.

“About time you woke up,” he gets out, voice still morning-rough, a little grating. His fingers squeeze your thigh, pulling you apart further to be at his mercy, spread open all for him.

“Tomura–” you gasp, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers gentle and weak with sleep.

He sets his mouth to you, sucks on the bundle of nerves in a way that makes you keen, almost arching away from him. He fixes his eyes on your face, watches as your expression twists up.

You can see the way his hips are twitching into the mattress. Sometimes you think he does this more for himself than you, takes pleasure in rendering you down to your most basic, most desperate.

Pleasure coils warm, simmers on the inside of you. Your fingers flex, tighten in his hair until he groans against you. When he pulls away for another moment to admire you, his lips are spit slick, a string of translucent spit and slick bridging between the two of you.

It makes you flush darkly, makes you throw your head back and whimper.

He takes you apart with the savagery and viciousness that he has always carried. Dawn spills over the bed sheets in rays of peach and honeysuckle, lovely for the impending destruction. You shatter like glass, pretty and ringing beneath his hands.

And then he’s flipping you onto your stomach, letting you claw at your pillow as he sinks deep inside of you. He hisses when he fucks into the crux of your sweet, supple thighs. Your hair is messy with sleep. He presses his chest to your back, presses you into the mattress.

You fist at your pillow, whining at the burn and stretch, and you can feel the sickle cut of his smile against the arch of your shoulder blades. He leaves sloppy kisses, scattering them, sucking at your skin until he has claimed and marked and branded you.

He nudges his nose against your cheek until you tilt your head back to his, to rub back affectionately, nudge into him like a cat. He hums in satisfaction, in pleasure, the sound of it rumbling against your back.

You feel like he’s trying to savor this. He doesn’t pull your hair, or speed up his hips. No, he waits until you arch your back for him, until you’re near begging.

He likes you weakened, maybe delirious, maybe like he’s giving you a dose of your own medicine. He’s trying to make you as addicted as he is, but there’s no need.

No need when he covers your hand with his, slots his fingers between yours. All five of them, squeezing at your hand.

“You were made for me,” he gets out, giving you a rougher thrust, his eyes flashing to your hands, “See?” he groans, fingers digging into your wrist, your knuckles, “Made for me.”

You moan, too, all wobbly and pitched, with all the pressure, with the squeeze of his hand. With the stretch of him inside where you’re vulnerable and soft and slick.

He drags everything out that morning, fucks you both into oversensitivity, until you’re both shuddering and gasping. He breaks you down, until there are tears streaming down your face, until he’s gripping you so tightly that he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his hand.

He fits his hand against your throat at one point and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You end where you began, with the violet petal bruise of his fingertips into your skin.

You linger in bed with him that morning, letting him pet and stroke and touch you. You stay gentle, even when he gets rough.

You make cheap, bad coffee for the both of you.

You feel twenty something with a boy and his tiny apartment. A cat chirps at the window and you’re smiling when you let him in. The breeze is cool. You don’t put on clothes because you feel like an adult, with a lover.

You feel normal for a fraction of a moment after everything that’s happened.

You feel sated and tender and saddened. Your chest fills with aching as you watch Tomura drift in and out of sleep in the sunbeams.

You were made for me, he’d said and you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his face. You were made for me.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, the one that feels like needle pricks and the hard truth. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he may need you, but you don’t need him.

You want him, though, your fingers trailing down the lines of his face, you want him so badly that it hurts. Your fingers travel over the hitch of his scars, his body as familiar as a home.

You want him, but you don’t need him, you try to tell yourself in this moment. You want him, but you don’t need him. You will survive this.

Still, it’s going to hurt. You’re bracing for impact, can feel the free fall rush up to the ground, can feel your stomach swimming up where your heart is.

You’ll survive it, you think, breathing hard, trying to keep back your tears as you look at him. But it’s going to hurt, it might tear out something very precious inside of you.

You’d rather he just break your arm again. At the thought of it, you try not to choke on the bitter, furious laugh that splits from your aching ribs.

***

You get to know Eri, try to spend more time with her and Shouta and Shinsou like you’re trying to fix something you broke. The pieces aren’t quite matching up right, though. It can’t be fixed, not really, not fully.

You can’t close your eyes without seeing that villain in a pool of their own blood. Or Toga’s face made blue. Sometimes in these dreams, it’s Shinsou who is drowning. Sometimes the villain in blood is Shouta. Tomura is always the one who saves you.

You can’t look at yourself anymore. You can’t stomach to. Your lies explode out of you when you catch a glance of yourself, haggard and exhausted and beaten down.

Shouta takes you to a hospital after your fist collides with the mirror in your bathroom. Glass shatters into hundreds of reflections of your warped and terrible image. They’re not as pretty, when the sun isn’t setting in a warehouse with a boy that you think you love.

Your hand bleeds the way that man’s necks did–

Your world spins as you lean over the bowl of the toilet to throw up your lunch. You’d made it with Eri earlier, before Shouta had gotten home from class.

Shouta finds you on the floor, sitting in all that glass, with your hand clutched tightly to your chest. He must’ve heard the commotion next door.

“What happened?” he asks, voice flooding with concern. He doesn’t hesitate to step carefully over the glass to you.

The question feels too large for you.

I did something horrible, you think, that’s what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly, lifting your chin from its place on your chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

(That isn’t true and you know it.

(But you’re always trying to prove you’re good. Especially now. Especially to Shouta– trying to prove you’re worthy of his love.

You suddenly crave Tomura. You didn’t have to prove anything to him.)

Shouta lifts you carefully, cradles you to his body to carry you out to his car to bring you to the hospital. He treats you like you’re fragile, made of glass yourself. “What’s going on with you?” Shouta murmurs gently, but there's almost a plea in it, concern that is so transparent it hurts, “You’re scaring me– I’m worried about you.” he confesses, almost desperate, “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

The laugh that sputters out of you is hollow, a grating noise that gets choked off. Shouta looks at you warily, uncertain and fearful.

The hospital keeps you for three days. Eri asks Shouta about you, apparently. She misses you. Shinsou helps her decorate a card for you.

Get well soon! Is written in her poor handwriting with far too many colors, and in Shinsou’s messy scrawl at the bottom;

Miss getting my ass kicked by you.

The doctors tell Shouta you’re struggling with a lot of survivor’s guilt and you have to fight back another absurd, off-kilter laugh.

Part of you thinks you’d be better off with Tomura at this point (your coin uncertain, hanging suspended in the air), if only to relieve you of this guilt, when Shouta tends to you and cares for you and loves you so steadfastly that it makes you feel rotten and horrible and monstrous. He has no idea who he’s loving. And you don’t deserve any of it–

But you think of Eri and the way she clings to your sleeves. And how you and Shinsou share granola bars during training.

And mostly, you are terrified to be without them.

None of it’s the same, though, and you think it’ll eat away at you until you’re nothing at all but the empty lies you kept feeding them.

You want to be better, you realize, when Eri draws you in pictures, holding her hand. You want to be better, you realize, for kids like you, like her–

(Like Tomura–)

So you decide one night, with your hand still bandaged, with Eri sleeping peacefully on the couch in the crux of your arms, and Shouta at the opposite end of the couch, that you will stay with them. The easy thing to do would be to leave, to not look back. But you have always been nothing if not determined, if not a fighter.

You will become who they want you to be, who they believe you to be, even if it tears you apart from the inside out.

Which means giving up Tomura, which feels like giving up a rib.

***

You had hoped you’d be able to slip away from Tomura and leave your secrets in a rundown apartment in a part of the city you grew up in. You had hoped that you could get away unscathed, without Shouta ever knowing more.

But Dabi mentions you to Hawks.

Offhand. Something about another traitor hero. Something about Shigaraki’s bitch.

Tomura also mentions Hawks to you.

And here is your trouble, what you were hoping to avoid by never allowing him to speak about his plans; you now know that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor. However, the only reason you know that, is because of your secret relationship with the leader of the League of Villains that you have been slowly, painstakingly trying to sever yourself from.

(It doesn’t help that he’s latched on tighter–)

So, if you go to Shouta to warn him that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor, you have to also conveniently come forward with your own truth. And what if he thinks you’re a traitor, too?

Surely, it looks that way.

Truthfully, you might as well be– you killed someone.

You killed someone.

Your stomach squeezes tight.

You think of Shouta and Shinsou and Eri and the loss of their love, when you’ve been trying to earn it back.

You don’t get much time to mull this over, though, because while walking back to your own apartment at U.A., a shadowy span of wings fall over your form.

Your heart falls into the pits of you, the drop of it sharp, horrible.

You think running will make it look all the worse.

Besides, he’s fast.

You can’t decide how this will go. Maybe he’ll only want to speak with you, traitor to traitor. But then you will be confronted with the undeniable truth that you now need to share with Shouta, with the Hero Commission, for the sake of people’s safety. You will have to come clean. Maybe it will be worse. Maybe he’s not after you at all, but just in your neck of the woods because–

All other thoughts are cut short when he lands in front of you.

You try to think of a proper reaction. Should you be expecting him? On guard? Should you act surprised?

His wings flare and you realize quickly how massive they are. They throw you into their towering shadow, make you feel like a mouse.

His eyes glint when he pushes up his visor, the gold of them sharp, his pupils a pinprick. The eyes of a predator.

You try not to cower. You stand your ground, lift your lips a little like you might bare teeth in warning, your hackles raising. Backed into the corner, you feel half wild, too.

But Hawks beats you to any form of a greeting, his smile a menacing twist of his lips, like he’s trying to be pleasant but he wants you to see all of those sharp, white teeth of his. You think he doesn’t look like much of a hero in this darkness, with the way his wings look thorny and maroon. His voice is barbed wire, the drawl of it stinging.

You know you’re in deep trouble now;

“You and I need to have a little talk.”

***

You are kept in a steel room that the Hero Commission tells you is not a holding cell, but you definitely think is a holding cell.

Your mind has not slowed since you got here.

You scramble for a story to tell– for lies to sew.

Hawks is not a traitor. Not to the heroes’ at least. He is a traitor to the villains and you know, logically, that this is for the greater good, but something about it bothers you. Villains aren’t people to the Hero Commission. You feel strangely protective of Tomura’s league of outcasts, even if you know you shouldn’t.

But they’re young, with feelings and thoughts and lives and pasts.

Nobody ever mourns us.

No, they don’t, you think, trying to keep away bitter tears from springing to your eyes. They don’t bother trying to see the big picture, they don’t bother to try and figure out why villains are on the rise.

They can’t stomach the idea that maybe their precious hero system has given birth to their villains.

Or maybe they can and they just don’t care.

They need heroes for their charts and money and power, don’t they? So they need villains. A never ending cycle, forever going around on this carousel. You’re dizzy with it, you’re sick of it, caught up in it’s riptide.

You don’t look at Tomura Shigaraki and see the most dangerous, wanted criminal in the country. You see a twenty-year-old pawn, a chip in a bigger game. You see someone as starving and desperate as you were.

You see a coin flip.

(You see the person you fell in love with–)

Shouta enters silently and the moment you see him, you have to try to keep from bursting into tears. Your lip wobbles.

He approaches slowly, cooly, but when he gets near you, his eyes are livid and searching your face, like maybe he could finally find the lies you’d kept buried so deep inside of you. They’ve finally blossomed, you think, all of them sprouting from your body, creeping through your lungs and up your throat to choke you out.

“Tell me the truth finally.” Shouta says, sharp and icy. He speaks like he’s speaking to a criminal, “Now.”

You suck in a shaky breath, try not to flinch when he leans across the metal table and snarls, “And if you are a traitor, at least have the decency to tell me now, before they come in here and interrogate both of us.”

Tears catch in your lashes.

Through the throbbing of your head, you realize you have jeopardized Shouta in the way you never wanted.

“I’m not a traitor.” you get out, voice quiet but firm, barely above a whisper.

“No?” Shouta clips and you can see it now, the hurt in his eyes. He feels betrayed, deeply so, and you can’t even blame him. “Hawks says differently. Says you’ve been working with Shigaraki.”

You rub furiously at your cheek to try and keep the tears from falling, shaking your head quickly, “No–”

“Then what happened?” he snaps and through the blur of your own tears, you catch the way his own eyes glisten.

“I didn’t tell you everything, when I said I thought Shigaraki was stalking me.” you say, having readied this lie the moment that Hawks brought you to the Hero Commission’s doors. You give them the story they want to hear of you, not the one where you fell in love, but the one where you jeopardize yourself for them. You are careful to peer up at him through damp lashes, “I–I got close to him, because he let me, because he was interested in me.”

Shouta goes very, very still. All you can see is his chest rising and falling, quick, as he slowly begins to walk the path you’re leading him down.

“And I thought he might tell me his plans, I thought that I could help–”

“No,” Shouta says in disbelief as it all begins to connect, leaning away from you in shock, “Please tell me you didn’t–”

You lurch towards him slightly, naturally, your hands coming up to the table like you’re reaching for him. “I wanted to prove I could do this–” you choke out, voice breaking, “I wanted to prove I could do undercover work like you wanted– like they wanted!”

“What were you thinking?” he hisses in return.

“You never would’ve let me do this!” you snap, almost plead with him, and it must strike true because he looks away from you momentarily, “I-I saw an opening so I tried to take it– I was perfect for it. Shigaraki was interested in me. I used to be a thief. I would’ve fit in.”

The moment you say it, you realize how true it rings. It startles you, maybe, with how close you were. Almost, but didn’t, your coin doing an extra rotation in air. And why didn’t you? Why not be with Tomura now? Why not be where you fit in most? Where hero society wanted and expected you to be?

“I’m not a traitor,” you cry, tears tracking down your cheeks freely now– you think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as Shouta now, “I promise I’m not a traitor– I couldn’t do that to you. O-or Shinsou. Or Eri–”

And there is your reason. The truth to disguise your lies. You look at him, across from you, his face almost unreadable, with his furrowed brows and tense jaw. His eyes shine, though, gleam with unshed tears as he listens to you. The man who gave you everything, who has cared for you since the moment he found you– perhaps the sole reason your coin has flipped in their favor. All because he did more than what was asked of him, because maybe he just saw someone starving, too, like the way you did with Tomura.

Believe me, you plead, believe this.

There is a long stretch of silence after that, where all you can get in is hiccuping breaths.

Finally, Shouta asks, “Did you find anything out about him? Or the League of Villains?”

You exhale hard with relief, your shoulders finally falling. You collapse somewhat, exhausted, folding in on yourself.

You hang your head, then shake it slowly, “No,” you sniffle, wipe at your drippy nose, “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t trust me.”

Shouta eyes you warily.

“So that’s why you encountered him so much. That’s why you were there with Toga Himiko when–” Shouta cuts himself off when he sees your wince, the shuddering of your features at the mention of that incident. But he finally put all of the pieces together. All the pieces you’ve given him, at least.

You nod, stray tears falling quick, dripping off your chin, “I’m sorry for lying,” you get out, “I hated it— I hated lying to you.”

Truth.

Shouta throws you a hard look, “You shouldn’t have. It was dangerous and irresponsible. And now look at what you’ve done–”

Your stomach knots up tightly.

“I thought I could handle it.” You breathe and there is another truth, sprinkled throughout your lies.

But you were so horribly wrong–

Shouta is about to open his mouth again, but the door swings open and a man in a suit enters slowly. His gaze is cool as it falls on you and Shouta. You know this isn’t the end of your conversation with him, you know he wants to know more. But now, he focuses on the higher up that encourages him to sit, too.

He says, because Shouta has been such an upstanding hero and teacher, they are allowing him the courtesy of explaining everything now.

And then you watch as Shouta opens his mouth and lies and lies and lies for you.

He tells them that it was his idea to allow you to get close to Shigaraki. He knew, every step of the way. He tells them he bypassed speaking with a committee at the Hero Commission’s because it would’ve taken too much time. He says that they needed to act quickly and accordingly.

He takes the brunt of it, saves you from far more trouble. He’s a trusted hero. You’re an ex-thief in the eyes of the Hero Commission with a too-big Quirk. They won’t believe you and truthfully, if they did more digging, if they pried more, there is a chance that the truth might leak out of you, open like a wound.

Shouta protects you, the way he always has. You don’t deserve it and you can feel your heart tearing itself to shreds.

You know you can’t go back to Tomura, not after all this.

You watch Shouta lie for you, speak for you, get you out of the grave you have dug yourself. For the second time in your life, Shouta saves you. You try to hold back more tears, you try to hold back from throwing yourself onto him, clinging to him.

And finally, they ask, “Did you learn anything, then? About Shigaraki Tomura?”

He likes sour candy. He has trouble sleeping. He drinks too many energy drinks. There is a scar at the corner of his lip. He has a beauty mark on his chin. He is desperate and starved of love. He let’s a kitten sleep in the sunlight of his apartment. He tries to take care of the League to the best of his ability– he cares about them more than he will admit. He is not heartless. His hands are often cold but seeking, longing for what he can’t have.

Your eyes well up with tears but you take a slow, steadying breath. They don’t want those pieces of him, the human, messy ones. No, they want to know how evil he is, how diabolical his next plan is going to be. But you don’t know any of that, just that he holds you as if he never wants to let you go when you fall asleep at night.

So you’re not lying when you say;

“I don’t know anything about Shigaraki Tomura.”

Only that he wanted to be a hero– when he was a kid.

***

The days following are the worst between you and Shouta.

He doesn’t trust you anymore. You can’t fight him. You have nothing to say, which is perhaps worse than if you tried to fight with him.

There’s no defending you, especially if Shouta even knew half of the truth. He barely speaks with you some days.

He wedges the distance between you two wide, forces it apart further.

He does not comfort you, he does not hold you when you cry this time. He’s not there with soothing, hushed words or the gentle touch of his hand to your cheek.

A piece of his trust is broken, now so severely that it’s just a jagged edge, something you don’t think can ever be soothed.

(And you’re right, in some way– there’s a deep shift in your relationship with him, changed and scarred. It never returns to what you once had, when your life was very simple and all you knew was him.)

He doesn’t ever say, I forgive you. I will trust you again, in time.

But he eventually will make dinner for you again and you will sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder at his table with a respectable, lonesome distance between his heart and yours.

Nothing is ever the same again.

You think about running– from Shouta, from Tomura, from all of it. It would be the easiest option, where you never have to look either in the face again.

But the Hero Commission looks at Eri the same way they looked at you when they discovered you could destroy Quirks and you can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to them.

(Tomura was right in a lot of ways.

And when there’s a war on the horizon and the Hero Commission seeks to use you as a weapon, you will think of him again.

I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want, he’d said to you once. And he did.

You hate the system, the endless cycle, Prometheus chained to his rock, the need of villains to have heroes, the creation of heroes to make villains. The endless bodies, the using and discarding of real, human lives for a greater good. You wish you could destroy it.

But there is more than only destruction, too. What good is rubble and ruin and death?)

You stay so you can do what you can, so you can protect a child with red eyes, with silver hair, and a Quirk too big for their own body.

And you think maybe if you stay with her, it makes up for leaving Tomura.

***

You go to Tomura one last time, walk the distance to his apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. It’s a familiar walk now. The pavement is wet from rain. It’s cold out. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You wonder how he’ll react– for a moment, you’re fearful. Will he lash out? For a moment you wonder if he’ll try to kill you.

But you know, deep down, he wouldn’t. Won’t.

And you won’t pretend you’re scared of him now. You won’t play the innocent hero, not in front of him.

The moment Tomura sees you, he knows something has changed. You are too expressive and now you look at him with a sense of foreboding. With a sadness that he feels uncomfortable gazing at.

You tell him, “I got in trouble with the Hero Commission.”

For a moment, he lets his hope grow and stretch inside of him. Maybe this is finally your turning point, your fall from grace that he will catch you on. But no, your lip wobbles and your eyes dart away.

“I can’t see you anymore,” you whisper.

At first, he wants to snap at you, hiss out something cruel between his bared teeth. Maybe if you had done this a few years ago, a few months ago, he would lash out, try to tear into his neck or you or the world. He thinks about hurting you, slamming you against a wall or–

The thought is unfortunately repulsive to him. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not like that.

His anger and resentment wells inside of him, swarms his chest viciously. He wants to argue, to point out every way your heroes have failed you. The world feels so absurdly unfair suddenly, to give him you– you who quiets his Quirk and touches him gently and winds your arms around him in the way he likes so much– only to then take you away, too. You who destroys with a touch, too. Who is perfect at his side.

But for all his work and care and strategy, he can’t get you to stay.

You will run back to your heroes.

You don’t need him, he realizes now. But you have his rib, tucked away inside of you. He wants to dig into you, pry it out, rip it from your body and take it back for himself.

But you’re crying.

And you’re pretty in the dark, like you’ve always been. This time, though, you’re not looking for a fight, there is no viciousness in you now. Maybe you’re too tired to fight.

So instead of erupting, instead of lashing out, Tomura steels himself. He’ll play the longer game, then. You don’t want to go, but you will. You’ll go back to your heroes and they will disappoint you. As they always do, at some point, eventually.

You will come back to him again, he tells himself.

And he will be forgiving, the way All For One has been with him. He sees it now; you, needing his hand, needing him to take you back. He will welcome you back into his arms, as if you hadn’t even left, and you will know then that you were right to leave.

He gazes at you, red eyes smoldering, “Then don’t.” he rasps and he’s trying to remain dispassionate, but his voice has a trembling note in it, the hidden fear underneath the harsh coolness.

Your eyes flicker back to him, your lips parting in surprise. You wipe at your eyes.

“So that’s it?”

And this makes him angry, the sharp tug of it like a dog at the end of it’s leash. He lurches forward threateningly, like he might hurt you.

(You don’t flinch. And he stops himself before he gets too close.)

“What?” he snaps, “Did you want me to beg for you to stay?”

He wants to, he realizes, he wants to howl and scream and tear apart everything in sight. He wants to say don’t go, don’t go, don’t slip from me, too.

He wants to bargain with you– what is it he can’t give you that they can?

Your heroes only love you because they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve done. Your heroes only love you as far as truth and justice go. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good and you would agree with them, even if you were shaking and crying, even if you burned with all that liveliness.

But he’d sooner sacrifice the world for you.

You have his rib, he wants to scream, of course he wants to beg.

You shake your head, though, more tears falling free, “No,” you say, voice surprisingly strong, “No, I never made you beg.”

The truth of it burrows beneath his skin. He knows. The itch squirms beneath his skin. His hand reaches up, digs into the crook of his neck to scratch at it.

It’s Dabi’s voice in his head that says something about getting too distracted with this braindead hero. He has bigger plans than hiding in an abandoned apartment with you. More to do. You were nothing but a side quest.

His pause screen.

Besides, what’s there to be upset about? You’ll come back.

He won’t even punish you for leaving, he promises. He promises.

“Then that’s it.” Tomura tells you, a bitter curl to his lips.

There’s no goodbye, just the breeze between the two of you, the empty space that he always hated. The nothingness between that he always sought to destroy.

Eventually, he just turns away from you. He can’t stomach looking at you any longer. He can feel your eyes pressing into his retreating form– he imagines you rushing for him, crashing into his back to throw your arms around his middle. You can’t do it, you’ll cry, burying your face between his shoulder blades. And he’ll freeze, but eventually he’ll wrap his arms around yours and bow his head with the strength of your feelings for him.

Or he imagines later, when it’s the end of the world, and you emerge from the rubble to reach for him. It’ll be like his dreams, when the sky is falling, and you only want to hold his hand in yours.

He imagines you shouting to him, changing your mind, saying his name like it’s a song to sing, not mourning bells, not a curse or an affliction.

But none of it happens.

And when he turns around, you are gone.

You leave his life as viciously as you entered it, suddenly there, all furious and beautiful, and now gone, like a lightning strike, like a lifetime.

***

You tell yourself you’re going to be fine, but you spend random days weeping over a villain. You spend long nights awake, missing him, replaying it all in your mind. You cover all your mirrors. You try to be different. You wish you could say you regret ever getting involved with him, but it would be one more lie. You wish for the time before the worst of it, the strange honeymoon you never should’ve had.

You wish you’d remembered to slow down, to savor it all a little more. You try to remember what your first kiss was like and the shade of his eyes through the evening light of an abandoned warehouse.

You try to remember when you didn’t feel so heavy, so corrosive and lost.

It doesn’t help that you’re suspended from heroing; a choice made by both the Hero Commission and Shouta. There’s nothing for you to do some evenings.

Shouta lets you train with him and Shinsou still. Shinsou tries to cheer you up, though he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you. Still, it hurts because he’s trying. It hurts because he cares so much, even about you.

You don’t deserve it, after everything.

You take care of Eri more, too, now that she is nearly in Shouta’s care. You babysit her while he’s away. You grow close with her, fiercely protective of the young girl, careful to keep the Hero Commission at a distance from her. She settles in your lap on the couch in Shouta’s apartment most evenings, watching TV and movies, while he grades papers at the opposite end.

Sometimes she falls asleep tucked into your side. You stroke her silver hair and try to bite back tears.

She catches you, sometimes, perceptive as she is, and asks very gently, “Why are you sad?” even if a tear hasn’t slipped free yet.

And you always shake your head, trying to dispel the thought of Tomura and the parents that gave him such a tragic name as a child. You force a smile for her and you tell her something silly to distract her, “I’m not,” you promise, “I just think there’s an onion nearby.”

She wrinkles her nose at this, “No, there isn’t!” but she’s easily distracted with tickles or the promise of painting her nails or having a tea party with Shouta.

Miraculously, your relationship with Shouta begins to heal, despite your betrayal. You think he can tell something worse happened to you during your time with Tomura, you think he can tell that you’re hurting, so he ends up gentler with you. He doesn’t trust you, though, keeps you on a tight leash. He looks at you some days like he isn’t quite sure he knows you.

Nothing is the same. Part of you wants to regret it. The part of you that loves Tomura can’t stomach the idea of regretting it. Someone is dead because of you. Someone is alive because of you, too.

But Shouta doesn’t ask and you don’t tell, can’t seem to speak the words.

You can’t even say, I fell in love, can’t speak the truth because it is so horrible.

And you know what everyone would ask; who could love the likes of him?

Me, you think, vehement and grief-stricken, me, you think defiantly. Why couldn’t you? He was a child once–

Shouta lets you burrow into his chest, wraps his arms around you. He sways with you in the kitchen until you can keep back your tears, until your heart has slowed to the tempo of his. He kisses the top of your head.

And it’s Shouta who is with you, when you return from training, and open the door to your apartment to reveal a scruffy, mangy looking grey kitten that wasn’t there when you left.

Ryuji chirps happily at you, rushing to the open door.

For a moment, you’re so shocked that all you can do is stand, startled, as he rubs himself against your legs.

“Don’t tell me you found another stray–” Shouta starts, but all you get out is a small, choked noise.

And here is the impact from the fall, you think, looking at that little cat that is excitedly winding itself around your legs. You can feel the shattering of your heart, like he’d lobbed it against the wall. You wonder if it catches light the same way glass does, all stained with color and broken into shards.

You drop to the floor with the weight of it all, with the clean splitting of your heart.

The moment Ryuji climbs into your lap, a sob finally ruptures out of you.

Shouta is fast, coming down beside you, you think he’s asking what’s wrong, why you’re crying, but you’ve already gathered the kitten into your arms, cradling him to your chest as the tears come quick and furious down your cheeks.

You think maybe you should be more concerned as to how he got Ryuji here, in U.A. dorms, you should be worried about security and safety but all you’re thinking about is that little apartment that you hid from the world with him in.

No, all you’re thinking about is the way light fell through the lone window to turn him hazy and soft in your memory. You’re thinking about how he never denied you affection, so long as you gave it tenfold in turn. The drawl of his voice. The pressing of his fingers into your skin like you were a miracle.

To him, you were.

Another sob spills out of you, from somewhere deep inside you.

What a lonely life, to only be able to touch one person in certainty. You wonder who will be the next person that will lay their hands gently on a body that has known too much pain. You wonder if you will be the last person to do it.

The thought hurts, opens up a part of you that is tender and shaking and desperately furious.

When Shouta can’t figure out what’s wrong with you or why you’re crying, he gives up, and sits on the floor with you. He gathers you into his lap so your back is pressed to his chest, pushing your head beneath his chin, Ryuji still cradled in your arms.

You cry harder when Shouta tries to comfort you, when he hushes softly, so sweetly, only because you don’t think there’s anyone to comfort Tomura like this.

You think of Tomura alone, even without Ryuji and it just–

Crushes you.

You squeeze the kitten tighter to your chest as you cry and cry and cry. You let Shouta hold you against him, but there’s no comfort in the aching hollowness that is growing in the pit of your chest.

You want to scream at the world that tossed the coin.

But all that comes out is a garbled, misery struck, cry.

You never told him you loved him, never gave word to what consumed you. And you realize, sitting on the floor with a kitten in your arms, that you won’t ever be able to tell him now.

It will live and die inside of you, never spoken into existence.

And even though it’s too late and Tomura Shigaraki is readying for a battle with a giant without you at his side, you still whisper the words you never got to speak into the top of Ryuji’s head.

Your lips barely move with it, the quietest, most desperate, “I love you– I loved you.” that escapes you with a trembling breath.

Shouta doesn’t even hear the confession.

Ryuji nudges your cheek with his, though, purring softly, keeping your secret safe.

And in the least, you are able to twist into Shouta’s arms and bury your face in his chest to cry as hard as you need. There’s no distance between the two of you now, like you always wanted.

Always here when you need him, even now, when it’s not him you want.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

You mumble incoherent apologies into his shoulder, try to hide in him, like he might be able to shield you from all the hurt and ache of your first love. He doesn’t ask, but he tells you very gently, his voice like the hearth of your home, “If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be there for you.”

You keep Ryuji, clean him up, fit him with a new collar, a new life. Shouta helps you care for him.

Eri adores the kitten, hugging him to her smiling face every time she sees him. Thankfully Ryuji is even-tempered, eager for affection. Almost desperate for it.

Ryuji is like proof of another world, proof that it all happened.

Sometimes you rub between his ears and ask, “Do you miss it, too?” but all he does is peer at you inquisitively, eyes large and fixed on you.

You sleep with him, though, let the kitten curl up in your lonesome arms, hold tight to him the way you used to hold tight to Tomura.

***

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you with its insistent chime and buzzing. You blink awake sleepily, slowly and blindly paw for your phone.

You turn the screen towards you and squint at the bright light, making out the word that flashes on it;

Unknown Caller.

You grimace, rubbing at your eyes. You debate putting your phone down, letting it ring and go to voicemail. Why should you answer for an unknown caller in the middle of the night?

And yet, something in you squirms, urges you to pick up. You have no idea who it might be— maybe someone needs your help. Is it possible it’s Shouta? Shinsou? What if it’s—

You answer finally, groggy voice slurring out, “Hello?”

You’re met with static.

“Hello?” you say again, voice hushed with sleep.

Still nothing.

Tomura sits on the other side, with the phone pressed desperately to his ear. He holds everything inside of him, barely allows himself to breathe on the other end.

He doesn’t know why he’s done this, only that he is on his way to proving himself with the League and he wishes you were still at his side.

He swallows, hears you call again, “Hello? Anyone there?”

He tightens his four-finger grip on the phone, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, sleepy and soft in his ear, wrapping around the jagged parts of his heart.

He exhales and you must hear it because you say, “Is someone there?”

He bites back an answer, feels his lip tremble slightly.

He hears you huff, indignant little thing that you are and his lips pull into a shaky, painful smile. “I’m going to hang up now,” you say, all prickly, the way you’d get if he woke you too soon.

He used to soothe you with lips and teeth and tongue, run diligent fingers over you until you were sighing and arching into his touch. Until all your hard, vicious edges softened with the flattening of his palm on your body.

And for some reason you try, one last time into coaxing him to answer, “C’mon,” you say, almost like you know, “Nothing?”

Nothing, he wants to echo, but doesn’t.

His heart pounds an uneasy rhythm, a haunted tempo. He feels himself shaking again.

“Okay,” you exhale, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to stop you, “Goodbye.”

A beat passes, before he feels his heart lurch painfully in the hollow place of his chest at the thought of not hearing your voice again like this, so near. He doesn’t want you to go, wants to listen to you until it coaxes him to sleep.

“Wait– don’t hang up–“ Tomura hisses into the phone at the last moment, unable to decide if he wants you to hear him or not.

He gets his answer in the buzzing silence, long and drawn out, that fills his head. His heart.

And he sits there with his phone still in hand and his heart still on the line.

***

Tomura shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching you from afar, in the park that he thought you’d looked like a painting in. You’re beautiful.

But what does someone like him know about beauty, anyways?

The fireburst leaves are nearly gone, barely clinging to lone and stark branches. They claw up into the sky now, but the sun is shining. It’s mid-morning. You’re in the park with your mentor, with the violet haired boy he’d seen you with before, and the little girl with silver hair. The one that was in Overhaul’s care, with the devastating Quirk.

She tugs excitedly at your sleeve now and you give her your undivided attention, your face lighting up with whatever it is she tells you.

You scoop her into your arms and her echoing giggle is like wind chimes, melodic and childish and care-free.

You look happy, he thinks, with your mentor’s hand on the small of your back, looking down at you and the girl fondly. The violet-haired boy says something that makes the girl laugh, it makes you smile as you watch her.

You look back at your mentor with a look that Tomura has come to know; one that begs of attention and approval and affection. He can see the desperate glint to your eyes, hungry for his love.

He swallows around the sharp bitterness he feels. Jealousy floods him in a way he has never fully known. But it’s more than just jealousy for you and your attention, for the way you’re looking at your mentor.

No, it’s something greater, far worse.

He’s jealous of your mentor, with the easy way he gets to touch and look at you out in public. But he’s also jealous of you and your life.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s begun to shake.

Because you were saved– isn’t that it? You were saved. And he wasn’t.

Maybe he’s jealous of the boy with you, too, with the possibility of his life so much brighter already. He has more of a chance than Tomura ever had.

Or maybe it’s the girl in your arms, with eyes like his, who he is most jealous of now. He has never allowed himself to ask;

Why couldn’t it be me?

But now he does and he can feel the pit in his chest grow with a livid sort of despair. Grief for a life never lived. Didn’t he deserve to be saved, too? Like the girl in your arms? Like you? Didn’t he deserve a life like this, too? What’s the difference? He wants to demand it, what’s the difference?

You were just a kid, you know?

His fingers dig into his neck. There is no one to stop him from breaking skin, for drawing blood on his own body. His chest festers, angry, like a blister. His stomach turns, his body trembling harder, like he’s a child, like he’s going to shake apart.

He looks at your smiling face, the curve of your lips, and wants you so bad it hurts. He wonders if you ever dreamt of him as a hero, the way he dreams of you as a villain. He wonders why it feels so unfair suddenly, the turning of your lives, the coming together and falling apart.

He shudders, feels the sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to mourn you, when you left him. He told himself that there was nothing to mourn; either you would be back or you weren’t worth it. He feels the pressure of tears now, though, much to his frustration. He feels his lungs burn for breath as he watches you hand the little girl off to your mentor, who props her onto his hip easily.

He watches you throw your head back and laugh, the sound of it distant, but he catches it, the outskirts of it. He used to feel that laugh against his throat, against his lips.

But now he watches you live a life he apparently never deserved.

His bottom lip trembles, a furious scowl marring his face.

He could scream or shout at a world that wouldn’t listen. The fact of it all, the helplessness of it all, burns beneath his skin like wildfire, like acid.

Tomura takes one last look at you; the expressive glimmer of your eyes, the flash of your teeth. He lingers on you, commits you to memory as if he could ever forget you. Maybe someday he will. Maybe he won’t have to, if you come back to him.

But he won’t wait on it, in an apartment that still has traces of you in it’s corners and crevices. No, he has more to do, bigger than him. Bigger than you.

Even if the horrible tempo of his heart begs differently, even if the shaking in his shoulders is an indication otherwise.

One last look of you– you’re talking, saying something with your hands. The little girl laughs again, her red eyes crinkling up happily.

Tomura turns away.

He walks a familiar path to the apartment, the wind tries to slice through his jacket, kicks up leaves and litter in shadowed alleyways.

He enters and there is no one trailing behind him, your hands twisted into the back of his hoodie, or his sleeves. It’s quiet. Empty. He surveys it once, the bed with unmade sheets. The window that let in beams of colored light, that Ryuji would sit at.

And then he sets his hands on the wall, all ten of his fingers down, the way he used to touch you.

The wall begins to decay, cracks and crumbles beneath his hands. It spreads, and spreads, and spreads like a disease filling out the body of the apartment. Dust begins to fall like early snow.

His heart squeezes painfully, his eyes suddenly flooding with pressure, with tears he tries to keep back. His head throbs, feels like it’s going to cleave apart. His ribs ache– hurt so bad it’s like he can feel the one you took from him, the gaping part of his chest.

His Quirk flares hard and hot and fast. It burns through him, floods his veins in a way that makes him cry out, suddenly shaking, suddenly pained.

He destroys the apartment, disintegrates the tiny world he created with you that existed outside of the real one. He unpauses the game. He takes apart what the world should’ve been, when he was here, with you. He sees now that a world like this cannot exist.

The peace, the ideal, the way you had understood him. Your unending compassion. It’s rare. Not enough to save the rest of them.

So he tears it all apart, pushes at his Quirk in a way he hasn’t been able to before, nudges at its strength to test it. It flares outward, eating away at the entire space, at the furniture, at the floor. Everywhere.

He seethes, blooming, finally allowing that livid and vicious thing inside of him to burst forward. It’s explosive, wrenching out of him in the form of terrible destruction.

He’ll grow into what he was supposed to–

I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.

The only option he ever really had, the hand extended to him a villain’s, gentle when he’d taken it.

He destroys the boy inside him, the one that was naive and hopeful and weak. He let’s that boy inside of him fall apart, split open and leaks gore before turning to dust, too. He kills the part of him that he had only ever shared with you, in the blue-dark of night, when you were lulled to sleep with just the sound of his heart.

He swallows down his anguish and his jealousy and his bitterness, keeps it safe inside him, like All For One always said to do. He’ll nourish it, let it grow, fester inside of him until the only thing it can do is explode out of him to tear the world apart, too.

When he’s standing in the rubble of the tiny world you’d made with him, the apartment complex demolished, the people inside gone, he knows what he has to do.

And he has so much work to do in order to achieve it.

He tries to forget you, to destroy your memory, too. He will not carry the weight of you around inside him.

(But in his dreams, you sit cross-legged in front of him, serene and beautiful, like a painting he knows nothing about.

In his dreams, you ask for his hands to have, and he gives you them to hold.)

[yellowsuitcase]

Intertwined // Draco Malfoy

Request:  Hi, can i request an imagine where Y/N and Draco has been together for a long time but one time, Draco forgot to use protection and didn't care for Y/N in the next morning so she got reallll upset. At first Draco don't understand why Y/N acted like that so he gets angry back at her but then he realises the reason and they make every thing up. Start with rough smut, angst in the middle and end with fluff pleaseee. I'll patiently waiting for you sooo take your time and don't force yourself too much ❤

A/N: I don’t have much to say about this one, I really liked the request, I thought it was really real. Also this takes place after Hogwarts and Y/N + Draco live alone.

Summary: Draco is inconsiderate towards his girlfriend and Y/N is n o t happy about it.

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, choking, swearing, angst, couple verbally fighting, fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

{Not my gif also it’s so dramatic for this lol}

“That’s it, baby girl, ride my cock,” Draco purred as he gripped his girlfriend’s hips, slowly lifting her up and down on his dick. Y/N whimpered, they’d been at it for nearly thirty minutes now, and her pussy was painfully sensitive. Draco had already eaten her out as well as edged her with his fingers. But there she was, bouncing on his cock, wanting to please him. However, after a few more minutes of her riding him, Draco’s grip grew tighter, and he began slamming his hips upwards, pounding himself deep in her pussy.

“Fuck, Draco,” Y/N moaned as she let her legs go limp. Draco flipped them over and was now on top of her. His hand found her throat, and he held it firmly as his hips snapped into her mercilessly. He grabbed her legs and rested them against his shoulders. Y/N watched as he shut his eyes and let himself go, his pace getting even quicker. Loud squelching noises filled the couple’s bedroom, and Y/N could tell he was getting close.

“Such a good girl for me, my perfect little slut,” he grunted, making Y/N whine. She clenched her fingers in the bedsheets and warned him of her approaching orgasm. “Gonna cum again?” he teased. “Go on then, whore, cum on me,” he coaxed. Y/N closed her eyes and focused on the building pressure in her abdomen. But then, she felt Draco slap her clit and found herself cumming instantly from the stimulation. Draco laughed as she tightened her walls around him and scrunched her face in pleasure. He fucked her through her orgasm as his own was advancing. His thrusts became sloppy. Just as Y/N was beginning to whine about the sensitivity, Draco came inside her with a loud groan, his hips pressed flush against her ass. 

When he pulled out, Y/N quickly realized that Draco hadn’t used a condom. “Fuck baby girl, you look so pretty with my cum dripping from your cunt,” Draco breathed, his breath fanning over her swollen pussy. She wriggled her hips to get away from the cool air emerging from his lips, but then he yanked her close and licked a long stripe up her slit, pushing the semen back inside her with his tongue. A guttural moan left Y/N as she arched her back, the overstimulation sending sparks through her body. When Draco pulled away, Y/N expected him to help her into the shower, but she was wrong. Instead, he patted her pussy and flopped onto the bed beside her. 

“Goodnight darling,” he murmured before slipping underneath the covers and turning away from her. Y/N was shocked. This was rather uncharacteristic of Draco. Not using protection and now going to sleep right after sex. Quite frankly, it made her heart clench, and not in a good way. 

Slowly, she scooted herself off their king size mattress and trudged to the bathroom; the soreness between her legs made this a difficult task. Eventually, though, she got inside and immediately sat on the toilet. After she used it, she turned on the shower and sat back down, waiting for it to heat up. She couldn’t shake the confusion and the hurt from her mind. But ultimately, she decided to push those thoughts away and instead focused on cleaning her sweaty, bruised body. Draco’s always quite rough with her during sex, and she enjoyed it, but he had really done a number on her tonight. Maybe when he sees that tomorrow, he’ll apologize, she thought to herself as she rubbed the loofa up and down her arms.

When she eventually slid back into bed with Draco, she couldn’t help but lay her arm over his waist. Sure he’d been a bit inconsiderate tonight, but Y/N still wanted him close. So she stroked his stomach with her thumb as much needed sleep overtook her.

-----------

{The next morning}

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as she yawned; the bright sunlight streaming from their windows was right on her face. She quickly shielded herself and looked to her left. Draco was still fast asleep. Y/N made sure not to wake him as she got up. Once on her feet, the memories of last night returned thanks to the pain between her legs. She hobbled down the hallway and stairs and made her way to the kitchen. She and Draco had no house elves per Y/N’s request, so they had to make their own meals. Y/N decided that today would be an omelet type of day. So she gathered all the necessary ingredients as well as a pan and began crafting the dish. 

While she was flipping the omelet, she heard Draco coming down the steps. She glanced over at him and watched as he settled into the cozy armchairs in their living room, not even bothering to greet her. Anger began to stir, but Y/N shoved it down and returned her eyes to the omelet, which she found was currently burning. “Shit!” she cursed as she quickly transferred it to a spare plate. 

The sound of a soft laugh caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Draco’s smiling face. Usually, this would amuse her, but not that morning. “Shut your trap,” she muttered as she started making a second omelet. 

“Excuse me?” Draco bellowed. Y/N instinctively tensed but held her ground. 

“You heard me. Shut up.” She heard Draco get to his feet and walk into the kitchen. Y/N’s anger was becoming unignorable now. But she kept her lips shut as he leaned on the counter beside her.

“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” he questioned. Y/N snapped, dropping her spatula on the marble countertop. Her head whipped towards Draco and his eyebrows jumped at the fury visible on her face.

“Why don’t you take a wild guess, Malfoy?” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. Draco gave her a look of confusion. 

“Or you could just tell me what’s wrong,” he replied.

“Haha, no, I want you to figure it out.”

Draco couldn’t understand what his lover was getting at, and it was making him grow frustrated. “Y/N, I don’t have the patience for this bullshit; just spit it out,” he argued. Y/N shook her head in disbelief and flipped her omelet. 

“The fact that you won’t even stop and think for a second just proves how selfish you are.” This comment made Draco’s blood boil. He stood up straight and clenched his fists at his sides.

“Well, at least I’m not a fucking bitch like you,” he sneered. Y/N gasped, and Draco immediately regretted his words. He could see shiny tears in her eyes as she hurriedly turned off the stove and transferred the omelet to a plate. “Y/N, I didn’t mean that.” She shook her head and fled the kitchen, not even glancing at him as she stormed away. 

Draco kicked the cabinets, enraged with himself. He’d really done it now. And the worst part was he still couldn’t put his finger on why Y/N was so upset in the first place. Surely it wasn’t because of his laughter when she burnt the omelet. But if not that, then what else? Draco ran his hand through his hair as he began to pace in the kitchen. Eventually, though, he stopped himself, grabbed a plate, and started eating. The burnt texture was pretty awful, but Draco forced it down his throat anyway. 

Now with a full stomach, his head felt clear. He retraced his steps in his mind. He had come downstairs, then sat in the living room; that was it. But then he thought farther back, back to the previous night. And that’s when it hit him. “Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his face into his palms, feeling utterly terrible. Could he genuinely have just gone to bed right after sex? Now that he was thinking about it, Y/N’s neck was littered with love bites this morning, and she had looked exhausted. Yet he had done nothing for her, nothing at all. Draco felt sick to his stomach, and not because of the omelet. Without wasting another second, he jumped to his feet and hastily ran upstairs, but not before taking the second dish with him. 

A knock at Y/N’s door halted her tears. She sighed, not really wanting to face her boyfriend right then, but she still wiped her face and opened the door. There stood her blonde-haired boy, a guilty look on his face. “May I?” he asked. Y/N nodded and stepped back, allowing them into their shared bedroom. He set the plate in his hands on his desk and took hesitant steps towards her. It felt as though remorseful tension was in the air, and for a few moments, neither of them said a word. But then Draco lifted his hand and gently cradled her face, making her look up at him.

“I’m so sorry, love. I should have taken care of you last night instead of just falling asleep. And I shouldn’t have called you a bitch or been rude to you this morning. It was completely uncalled for, and I...I feel like an absolute dick, and I’m just really, really sorry.”

Y/N remained silent, simply letting her head rest in his hands. She could tell he was sincere. “I forgive you. But Draco," she started, "I could hardly hold myself up in the shower, and I really needed you. I wanted to cuddle with you like we usually do. And not to mention the fact you didn’t wear a condom, I could get pregnant…” she trailed off. Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted a family so soon, or even at all. She didn’t think she nor Draco were even close to being ready for such a huge responsibility. But she was pulled from her thoughts by Draco stroking her cheek.

“Y/N, I promise you it will never happen again. You’re everything to me, and I will always take care of you and be there for you whenever you need me. I know I wasn’t last night. Last night I was reckless and a fucking git, but from now on I won't be, I swear it,” Draco declared. His eyes looked fearful as he waited for Y/N to reply. And she did, just not with words. She took a step forward and nestled herself against his chest. Draco immediately wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent, feeling at peace, knowing things were okay again. 

“I believe I am due for a cuddle appointment, Dr. Malfoy,” Y/N stated, breaking the silence with her playful tone. She giggled as Draco let her go and dragged her towards their bed. He then scooped her up, making her squeal, before he dropped her onto the bouncy mattress. Her bright smile was irresistible, and he scrambled onto the bed, smashing his lips onto hers. She kissed him back, passionately, happy to be reconciled. 

“Dr. Malfoy shall provide you with the necessary amount of cuddles to cure your ailment,” Draco stated in a funny voice, playing along with the bit. Y/N giggled and reconnected her lips with his, bringing his body close to hers.

And as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, the couple remained on the bed, legs intertwined with legs and fingers clutching palms. Their hearts were content. All was forgiven. And even when the moon took the sun’s place, they still hadn’t detached from one another. They ended up falling asleep like that. And in the morning, Draco carried his girl to the bathroom, pledging to never let her wash alone again. 

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[loserholland]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟? | 𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ➺ TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning ➺ Nothing but fluff

Word Count ➺ 4.7k

Summary ➺ You have your doubts about going on a blind date, the past few dates you had been stood up. You just hope this guy doesn’t stand you up like the rest, but it turns out Bucky has doubts too.

A/N ➺ Kinda based off of “When he see’s me” I got the idea from when I was listening to the song, some parts of the song will be featured. This is set during tfatws timeline, but slight episode 1 spoiler! Please feel free to comment, reblog, send feedback <3 always appreciated! Maybe a part two? idk yet lol

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @ohbabycal @laucontrerasv @spider-mendes @jessybellsworld @quaksonhehe​ @dummiesshort​

☞  Masterlist  ☜

𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘜𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

“No! We’re not doing this again!” 

Nyiah groaned loudly following her friend out the door, the moment she said “A friend of mine wants me to set you up with his friend.” (Y/N) had ran out the door not wanting to hear the rest of what she had to say, only because Nyiah didn’t have such a great streak when it came to setting her up on blind dates.   

A few heads had turned in the cubicles but quickly shrugged it off turning their attention back to their computer screens. She hastily walked to the restroom wanting to lock herself in a stall an away from her friend, well only friend in the office. (Y/N) had moved to New York before the blip happened, and well it when it did happen she was sitting in on a meeting when she noticed everyone slowly began to disintegrate. She remembers attempting to call her parents before everything just went dark, then five years later she’s back where she was everyone running frantically around her.

Pushing the door open she quickly rushed into a stall sliding the lock across before slumping her body against the door letting out a sigh of relief an also trying to catch her breath. She honestly doesn’t remember why she agreed to going on these dates, she simply could say no. But, I guess being twenty-six and constantly questioned by her family about having someone in her life pushed her to go on these dates. She has been in New York for nearly six years now, and never really had a serious relationship since she’s been in the city. Before leaving California, she had broken up with her boyfriend of two years not wanting to do the whole long distance thing. 

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

That’s when Nyiah began to set her up on these blind dates saying “It’s time to get out there again! Everyone’s back you have an entire sea of men!”. The only thing she hated about blind dates, not knowing who the person is. Sure that’s the whole point of the date but, she likes knowing what she’s getting into. Searching them up on social media, getting as much information as them as possible to see what type of person she’s going to be sitting with for an hour or two.

“(Y/N)!”

Nyiah peeked her head over the stall peering down at (Y/N), the sudden noise caused her to flinch, she didn’t even hear her come in?! She looked down to see she had taken her heels off and was pretty sure she was standing on the toilet seat. 

“That is very unsanitary.” 

Nyiah looked down at her feet then back over the stall, “I’m standing on two toilet seat covers I should be fine.” (Y/N) scoffed lightly  unlocking the the door watching as Nyiah stepped down from the toilet rushing out to corner (Y/N) before she left. 

She pressed her lips into a thin line glaring at her friend, the last few two never even made their way through the door. Most of the waitresses took pity on you before you left they had offered free dessert for you to take home saying it was on the house, and how no one deserves to be stood up.

“Please- remember my friend Sam? He said he wants to set his friend up with you! This isn’t my idea, he asked me to ask you!”

Sam? She briefly remembers meeting him, he seemed like a nice guy- from what she had collected the few times they met. And well he is an avengers and a literal hero to New York City and well the entire world.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘐𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦? 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦?

“Nyiah-” she paused rubbing her temples with her middle and thumb finger, “The last two dates my date didn’t even show up! How do I know that Sam’s friend won’t do the same?” it always felt so humiliating, sitting there in the middle of the dining room waiting for the person to show up only and not even answering any messages you sent.

Nyiah sighed, “I’ve met him once or twice he’s nice.”

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧

(Y/N) sighed, “Nice doesn’t cut it Nyiah, how do I know he won’t be like the first two? The first one felt like I was doing some kind of interview- all he talked about was himself.” She had gone out with one of Nyiah’s close friends Brandon, he seemed like a sweet guy till he made it their date all about him leaving no room for her to talk.

𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦

“The second one was getting too close- he didn’t even know what personal space was! I went to the restroom for five minutes just to be in my own space!” Nyiah frowned slightly remembering how (Y/N) called saying she was about to just pay for the check and leave because Joshua didn’t know how to just give anyone space.

𝘖𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘖𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘖𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘴 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵

"I just-” she paused for a second swiping her tongue against her bottom lip. Doubt, was eating up at her. Doubt in herself and Nyiah. Mostly herself, she wanted to find the confidence to go on this date.

𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵? (𝘈𝘩) 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯? (𝘈𝘩)

“I just don’t want to disappoint myself again, if not myself then my date too- what if the reason why they don’t even make it through the door is because they see me and I don’t know they don’t like how I look?” 

The last date she had last week, she had gotten his number through Nyiah. She had arrived about thirty minutes early and when she had texted him if he was on the way, he never texted back. That takes a toll on your heart and mind, constantly questioning if you’re good enough.

𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬? (𝘈𝘩) 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 (𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

“I’m afraid.”

(Y/N) had every right to feel that way, every right to question whether or not she should say yes to her friend. She had every right to feel afraid after the last few dates not showing up, she had every right to also say no.

"(Y/N/N), this guy won’t do what the others did to you. Plus I shouldn’t call him a guy he’s moreover a man, like I said I don’t want to giveaway who he is but he’s a gentlemen, quiet at first but once you start talking to him- he’ll open up.” 

𝘚𝘰, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭-𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment rethinking what Nyiah had just said. She didn’t want to make the decision just yet, she needed the night to think about it. The last four dates she jumped right into it, and well missed a few steps when the date arrived. This time she wanted to be careful, she didn’t want to disappoint herself again.

“I need time to think about it.” 

The brunette nodded, “Take all the time you need. Sam still needs to ask his friend anyway.” 

Later that night she had called her sister in hopes she had some advice for her, yet it turned out to be the opposite. Pacing around her living room she held her phone to her ear, “You should go- don’t let the past four dates define how this one will turn out.” (Y/N) huffed lightly moving to seat on her couch, “Yeah but, have you been stood up before?” 

Her sister moved around the kitchen waving her hands at her kids to settle down at the dining room table, “You’re using your aggressive tone on me- you called me remember?” (Y/N) pulled the phone away from her ear lifting her free hand and flipping off her phone. 

“And now you’re flipping me off, you’re getting defensive cause you know I’m right.” 

She pulled the phone back to her ear, “I’m not defensive! I’m simply being cautious.. plus I don’t know don’t you think it’s a sign? What if he’s all the like rest.” 

“(Y/N), you and your what if’s, just- take the night to sleep on it. I’m sure if Nyiah has met him and her friend thought of setting you two up, he won’t be like the rest.” 

What she didn’t know was that certain someone she may be going on a date with was having the same exact conversation as her, unsure if he should go out on a date. 

“A what?” 

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line staring at Bucky with a “you heard what I said so stop pretending you didn’t hear me.” look. He had presented the idea of setting Bucky up on a blind date. 

The last date he went on was with Leah, a girl at the restaurant he and Yori had gone to eat lunch at. Yori had set the date up, that was his first date in eighty years and since that date he hasn’t gone on another.

Bucky had tried online dating, he had downloaded tinder matched with a couple of people till they started texting “DTF” and of course being a 106 years old he didn’t know what that meant. Sam had spent five minutes laughing in his face before telling him what it meant, which lead him to delete the app. When he had told Sam he deleted the app, that’s when he contacted Nyiah asking if (Y/N) was still single and if she was willing to go on a date with Bucky. 

"Who is this girl anyway?”

“Woman.”

“What?” 

“Woman.” 

“Why do you keep saying Woman? Answer my question!”

Sam mentally face palmed himself, sometimes Bucky’s true age shows from time to time- damn fossil. He also needed to teach him a thing or two about modern day flirting.

“Girl makes it seem as if you’re going on a date with a teenager. So woman sounds a lot better, and to answer your question I can’t tell you her name that’s the whole point of a blind date. But, I’ve met her once or twice, She’s beautiful and nice.” 

“So I’m suppose to be okay with this because you’ve met her once or twice and because she’s ‘beautiful’ and ‘nice’.” 

Sam sighed lightly, “Look Buck, you need to get out there instead of being cooped up in your apartment. She’s a good friend of a friend of mine, remember Nyiah?”

Nyiah- oh yes she was the loud woman. Bucky noticed how flustered Sam got whenever Nyiah was around- he could tease him about that later. 

“I went on one date like a month ago and tried tinder out- you know how that went.”

He couldn’t help but feel worried, not because it’s been so long but he was worried that they’ll find out about his past. About how he has a vibranium arm or that apart of his past that he tried so hard to forget about, he was worried they would know he use to be an ex-assassin. He didn’t want them to run away once he opened up about his past- if he would ever open up about his past.

Sam could sense that he was worried he placed a hand on his shoulder, “She’s not one to judge Buck, I told you she’s really nice. I’m sure she won’t run at the sight of you, unless you continue to stare her down-

Bucky glared slightly causing a chuckle to pass Sam’s lips, “This is only a blind date, you determine whether or not you want to have a second or a third, or a forth. Right now it’s just one- and I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

The sound of her phone ringing woke her up from her deep slumber, she lifted her arm reaching forward towards the night stand in search for her phone tugging the charger off and swiped to accept the call before she missed it. 

“Hello?” 

“Nyiah! So I spent some time thinking-”

Nyiah pulled the phone away from her ear squinting to look at the time, 2:47 AM. Placing the phone back to her ear she sighed, “I’ll go on the date.” this caused Nyiah to sit up surely waking her up, “Are you serious?” asking in disbelief she pulled the phone away from her ear again checking that she was talking to (Y/N).

“Are you serious or am I dreaming?”

“I’m serious- I talked to Gen and she said that I shouldn’t let the past four dates define this one so- I’m willing to go on this date.” 

Nyiah squealed loudly surely waking up the person who was sleeping next to her, “What is it the voice?” the voice mumbled causing (Y/N) to raise her brow in confusion, “So- who are you with right now?” Nyiah’s eyes widen slightly looking down at the half- asleep figure in her bed.

“No one! Well, I’ll tell Sam in the morning, is it okay if the date is at 6 today?”

“Yeah that’s fine- now answer my-”

“Great I’ll come by later to help you out with outfits! Good night!”

She placed her phone back on the charger before turning her attention back to the sleeping person next to her, “Sam! Sam!” she shook her quickly, “(Y/N) said yes! So tell James first thing in the morning!” 

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵?

(Y/N) felt her stomach turn, she felt so nervous. Nervous that she was going to have to deal with the embarrassment of being stood up yet again, Nyiah had raided her closet in search for the perfect dress before pulling out a beautiful baby blue midi dress. The last time she wore that dress was to her sister’s wedding.

She didn’t feel this nervous for the past four dates, why does this one feel different? Maybe because Nyiah gave more of a description of what this guy looked like, maybe it was because after talking to her sister, drinking half a bottle of red wine, and weighing out the pros and cons at one in the morning fueled her to want to go on this date and make an effort. 

“What if-”

Nyiah made a weird “Ngh” noise to stop her from finishing her sentence, “No more what if’s, I told you. This one is going to be different, trust me.” (Y/N) snorted loudly, “I hope you’re right- and maybe now you can tell me who you were sharing a bed with.” 

A pink tint painted the brunette’s cheeks, “It was Sam.” she mumbled causing (Y/N) to gasp loudly, “Sam? No way! Wow- took you two long enough.” she had remembered all the times Nyiah would call her drunk talking about how much she wanted to jump Sam’s bones or go flying around with him. 

She sighed lightly, fixing up her hair one last time, applying a little bit on mascara and lipgloss keeping it as natural as possible. Nyiah grinned widely, she knew that this date was going to be the best she knew that (Y/N) was going to for sure go on a second date. 

“Wanna know one more thing about him?” 

(Y/N) hummed in response raiding her closet for her white vans, “The color of your dress- is the color of his eyes.” That sly minx was at it again, slipping her shoes on slinging her purse around her, she took one last look the mirror. Before she parted ways with Nyiah she had said “You’re for sure going on a second date.” A part of her hoped she was right, the other part of her worried Nyiah would be wrong.

Bucky stood in front of the flower vendor looking between the different varieties, he stared at the peach roses. He glanced down at his watch, he wanted to be there at least a five minutes early, Sam had made the reservation under his name at this sushi restaurant that was in walkable distance of his apartment and his dates apartment. 

He grabbed the bouquet of peach roses handing a twenty dollar bill to the vendor mumbling keep the change before heading towards the direction of the restaurant. Gripping the bouquet in his hands, he tried to be as careful as possible not wanting to crush the stems.

From all the big steps he was taking he made it to the building in no time, stepping in to the slightly crowded restaurant due to it being nearly dinner time. Walking up the counter he looked around before speaking, “Reservation under Sam Wilson?” he watched as the host looked through the book.

“You’re the first to arrive, follow me to the booth.” he watched as the host grabbed two menus directing for Bucky to follow him. The room was filled with chatter, he felt his hand growing clammy not from the heat from the glove but from the nervousness he felt. 

“Anything I can start you off with?” 

Bucky set the flowers next to him in the booth, “Water is fine. Thank you.”

(Y/N) wiped her palms against her dress once more standing in front of the door of the restaurant, “Here goes nothing.” she whispered to herself tugging the door opened she stepped in. The room was dimly lit and full of chatter, she felt her heart beat race it felt as though it was trying to escape from her chest. 

Walking up to the host she swiped her hands down her dress once more, “Hi, reservation under Sam Wilson?” she watched as the host crossed the name off the list, “Follow me, he just got here a few minutes before you.” she could feel her heart beat in her ears, oh my god was she about to go into cardiac arrest? What the hell is happening? 

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵? (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥?)

Nearing the table, all she could make out what his short brunette hair finally the host stopped in front of the table motioning for you to seat, “Your server will be with you in a few moments. Please take your time to decide.” Bucky stood from his seat gripping the bouquet of flowers in his left hand, “Hi I’m James.” oh Nyiah you were right, he had beautiful cerulean eyes they resembled the ocean. She had seen these eyes before, yet she couldn’t put her finger on it.

You stuck your right hand out enclasping it with his, “Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).” she let go right after hoping he didn’t notice how she wiped her hand down her dress once more. Bucky felt his cheeks turn a slight pink, he looked down slightly “These are for you.” you gladly accepted the beautiful peach roses bringing it to your nose to inhale the scent.

“Thank you, they are lovely.”

Bucky motioned once more to allow her to sit in the booth first before he slipped into his seat, she stared at him her brain was eating up at her unsure of how she had seen him before.

“So, how are you?” Bucky broke the silence, lifting the menu slightly enough for him to still see her face. Sam was correct, she was beautiful. “I’m good, a little nervous. How are you?” he chuckled lightly causing (Y/N) to smile lightly “I’m actually nervous too, it’s been a while since I’ve um-” 

“Gone out on a date?” 

He nodded in agreement still scanning the menu before finally settling on what he wanted to order. “You’re friends with Sam right? How do you two know each other?” (Y/N) questioned looking up for a second before brining her attention back to the menu. A slight glint caught her eye, it was silver and around his neck. 

“We’re uh-” he cleared his throat slightly unsure of how to answer the question, “we work together.” That’s when it clicked, she remembered where she had seen those beautiful ocean eyes. She had gone to the smithsonian museum almost every weekend, visiting the same exhibit. 

“Oh my god- you’re James Buchanan Barnes!” 

Bucky was unsure if she said it out of excitement or fear.

“I read about you in the smithsonian exhibit- wow okay I sound like such a nerd. But you were so brave, wait I shouldn’t use were, because it’s not like you aren’t brave anymore, you are so brave. I need to stop talking I’m sorry.” (Y/N) rambled reaching for the cup of water to shut herself up. 

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, “I’m sure you’ve read other things.” she was currently sitting with an ex-assassin, why wasn’t she running for the hills right now?

“Well- that the thing” she leaned forward slightly, “I’ve read what was released and well- what they did to you.. no one deserves that. I remember reading them and I remember reading the information they had at the exhibit. Those were two different people-” 

“Hi, I’m Alex I’ll be your waiter for tonight. What can I get for you two?”

The two ordered their meals, thanking the waiter as he took their menus away. Bucky stared back at (Y/N), she felt unsure if she should continue talking. “You were saying?” she looked up from her lap her mouth was slightly agape, what if I angered him in some way?

“The person I’m speaking to right now, is James Buchanan Barnes, he is from Brooklyn and served as a sergeant in the 107th division during World War II. The person who no longer exist is the winter solider, someone HYDRA controlled and wiped constantly to do their dirty deeds. You are James Buchanan Barnes, a sweet guy who bought me flowers and said yes to coming on a date with a complete nerd.” 

Bucky smiled, this was the first time no one judged him for his past, nor tried to run for the damn hills once they found out who he use to be. He noticed how she kept her head down low unsure if she had angered him or not, “Enough about me- what about you? With that accent of yours I’m guessing you’re from the west coast?”

(Y/N) lifted her head meeting the same ocean blue eyes, “California, moved here in 2017. I work at an office, that’s how I know Nyiah. Got a degree in marketing, and I have an older sister, two younger brothers.” Bucky listened to her ramble on about her life smiling ever so often whenever she would derive to a different topic.

“I was actually close to not coming on this date..”

Bucky finished chewing the sushi roll that he ordered, reaching for his glass of water to wash down the rice. “Why?” he questioned continuing to pick off the sushi that was on his plate, he watched as she refocused her attention back on her lap. 

“Well- the first two dates Nyiah had set me up on were complete disasters, the first guy talked too much, the second didn’t know what personal space was. The previous two stood me up, so- thank you for not being like any of those men.” 

“Boys.”

“Hm?”

“They weren’t men, they were boys. Especially the last two who stood you up, you’re way too beautiful to be stood up. But- I should be thanking you for not running away or judging my past.”

(Y/N) smiled, she was definitely going to ask him out on a second date.

It felt as though they have known each other forever, they had spent hours talking without realizing it was nearly closing time. Bucky had beat her to pay the bill, standing from his seat as (Y/N) did the same, “Let me walk you home.” she nodded holding the flowers close to her body.

 As they were walking home, Bucky would point out here and there about how that building use to be this or he’d point out that’s where he saved Steve from being bullied yet again. The cool breeze kissed her skin causing her to shiver lightly, Bucky shrugged off his leather jacket placing it on her shoulders. She mumbled thank you, turning her head slightly to hide the arising blush on her cheeks. 

They walked in comfortable silence she would look up every so often admiring the way the moon kissed his skin, he looked like literal art, especially with those beautiful cerulean eyes. (Y/N) stopped in her tracks looking up at her apartment building, “Well- this is me.” Bucky looked across the street and up at the building they were currently standing in front of, “Wanna know something funny?” she rose her brow slightly ushering him silently to tell her. 

“I live in that building.” 

It was ironic honestly, and somewhat like fate, “Let me walk you up.” who knew that the guy she was going to be going on a date with lived across her street the entire time, she also wondered if Nyiah knew that he lived across the street from her. Once they stood in front of her door she fished for her keys, Bucky offered to hold the flowers for her to make it easier for her to find. 

Once she unlocked the door she opened it slightly turning to look up at Bucky he handed her the bouquet back, “Thank-” they both said simultaneously (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile, “You go first-” they said again causing Bucky to chuckle. 

“Please ladies first.” 

(Y/N) smiled she really didn’t want the night to end, “Thank you for an amazing night and for the beautiful flowers. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow for breakfast preferably, I know this 40′s theme cafe if you’d like to go?”

“I was actually-”

“It’s no problem if you can’t go!” 

“No! Not no as in I can’t go- I can go it was just, I was actually planning on asking you out too but you seemed to beat me to it.” 

(Y/N) mentally face palmed herself, her damn pessimistic mind getting the best of her yet again. She could feel herself growing hot, god dammit she needs to work on being more optimistic. 

“Oh sorry- I’m just thank you again for tonight really. It turned out better than I could ever imagine.” without thinking she leaned up pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky stood there with wide eyes, (Y/N) wore the same expression “Uh- I’m sorry-” Bucky leaned down pressing a kiss to her cheeks as well. God they looked she was sure they were acting like two middler schoolers who got into their first relationship. 

“I’ll come by around 8?” 

She nodded, she was sure she looked like a tomato by now. 

Bucky turned on his heels making his way towards the elevator she noticed he had forgotten his jacket, “Oh James! Your jacket!” he turned around smiling, “It’s okay! You can return it tomorrow, or keep it actually looks better on you than me.” the sound of the elevator door opening filled the hallway, she watched as Bucky walked in bidding her a small wave before the metal doors closed. 

Entering her apartment, she locked the door behind her smiling from ear to ear. Bucky leaned his head agains the walls of the metal box, a huge grin painted his lips. Their friends were right, they would most definitely be going on a second date together.

She had finally met someone, who when he see’s her wants to see her again.

And he had finally met someone, who doesn’t run for the hills once they learn about his past.

[leossmoonn]

Temptation

masterlist

pairing - silas x forbes,fem!reader

type - fluffy smut, angst

note / request - “can i request a silas fic where the reader is Caroline's lil sis and Silas likes to annoy her, and he likes her a lot. Then Care and Damon are always into protective sibling modes where silas is around y/n. So one day they catch y/n making out w him, and then theres a lot of banter again” this was really fun to write! im not gonna rewrite background info lol so make sure to read the request. also the timeline of events is a little fuzzy so i apologise if i make a mistake. enjoy :)

summary - damon and caroline find you making out with the enemy, who just happens to be silas 

warnings / includes - language, sibling fighting, steamy make out, sexual tension heheh, you’re in your senior year of high school, suggestive

————

*gif isn't mine*

“Hello, doll face,” Silas greeted behind you.

You jumped at his voice, but quickly settled down. “Hey, Silas,” you said dully.

“Why the long face, princess?” Silas asked. 

“Because you’re here,” you said. “Oh, that’s so mean. You’ve hurt my feelings,” Silas pouted. 

“Well, I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyways,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

“Ugh, you are such a goody two shoes. It’s cute, but annoying. Why not break the rules? I know you want to,” Silas said, leaning over the top of the couch, his face going right next to your’s.

You inhaled deeply, your heart pounding against your chest. You were attracted to him, no doubt about that, but if you even considered shaking his hand, Caroline and Damon would kill you. And you definitely didn’t want that.

“I can read your mind, Y/n. I know you want to kiss me, so go ahead,” he whispered. 

You didn’t turn your head, but your eyes wandered to the left. You got a good view of his lips, which made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It was so tempting to close the gap between you two, but you knew better than that. You turned your head the other way, standing up from the couch. You packed up your school work, deciding to leave the Salvatore house and go to your own. 

You were at the Salvatore house because Damon had offered to help you with your history homework. You took the offer and you two had been studying for a few hours. He had left you for 30 minutes to go and get you two lunch. In those 30 minutes, Silas had wandered into the house, looking for you. 

You pulled out your phone, texting Damon to go to your house instead of back to his. 

“Where are ya going?” Silas asked. 

“Home,” you mumbled, keeping your head down and walking to the front door. 

Silas stood in front of the door, making you look up at him with an annoyed frown. 

“Please let me go,” you said. 

“No, I’d rather see you beg,” Silas smirked. You rolled your eyes. “Please. Damon is waiting for me at my house with food.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t I just go with you, then? I’d love to see Damon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. “Why not? I can just pretend to be his brother! I’ve fooled lots of people already,” Silas smiled. 

“I think Damon will notice. Especially if I’m there,” you said.  “I’ll just sneak in then,” Silas suggested. 

“No, Silas! I just want to go home alone. Leave me alone,” you said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. You went to push him out of the way, but his hands grabbed ahold of your wrists. His strong grip made goosebumps rush up your forearms.

Silas couldn’t help but smirk. You rarely ever had outbursts. He thought it was incredibly sexy and cute when you put your foot down. Especially when it pertained to him. 

“You are so adorable when you’re mad. You're so small, too. I can’t help but not take you seriously,” Silas chuckled. 

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You masked your embarrassment by groaning and running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Just let me go! Please. I’m hungry and tired and really need to study for my test.”

“What is your test over, anyways? History? Cause if so, I could help you out. I bet I know more than Damon,” Silas said. 

“No thanks, bro, she’s all taken care of,” Damon said from behind Silas. 

“You tattled that I was here! So naughty of you,” Silas glared at you playfully. 

“Step out of the way, Silas. Otherwise I will snap your neck,” Damon sneered. 

Silas sighed. “Fine! I’m only obeying because I want to kiss you before I die.”

“Fat chance of that. C’mon, Y/n. I got you a burger and those onion rings you like,” Damon said.

“Thanks, Damon,” you smiled gratefully at him. 

“See you later, doll face!” Silas called out as you walked to your car. 

“I’m sorry about him. I should make you the owner of the house,” Damon said. 

You shrugged, “It’s alright. He would never actually hurt me.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Damon said. 

“Yes, we do. Sure, he might threaten to kill me sometimes, but his liking for me trumps any chance of him killing me. I don’t fear him, he’s just extremely annoying,” you said, getting in your car.

“Agreed,” Damon said. 

You two drove to your house, eating lunch and studying for a few more hours. Caroline and Elena then came home, talking to you and Damon about a party at the Grill. 

“Can I come?” You asked. 

“Um, yeah, sure,” Caroline nodded. 

You smiled excitedly. You barley went to any of these parties. You usually were at home studying or hiding away in your house because Caroline and Damon were always worried for you, but Caroline figured that since she and Damon and everyone else would be there, they would be able to protect you. 

So you took a quick shower and got ready for the night. You put on ripped jeans and a black, spaghetti-strapped top with a jean jacket. You put on heeled boots and put on some silver jewellery, as well as lined your eyes with eyeliner and painted your lips red with lipstick.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Elena exclaimed as you walked out of your room. 

“Thanks, Elena,” you smiled at her. 

“No, go change,” Caroline said. “Why?” You frowned. 

“Because Silas could be there and that outfit would tempt him even more,” Damon explained. 

You rolled your eyes. “So when Klaus was here, Caroline could wear anything, but I guess since I’m younger and a human, I can’t? That’s so unfair.”

“She’s right, guys. I hate Silas as much as you two, but let her dress how she wants. We’ll be there to protect her. Plus, if Silas thinks she’s hot, then good for her. She is,” Elena agreed with you. 

You smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiled. 

“Ugh, fine! But no drinking, okay?” Caroline said. 

“Ay, ay captain,” you said. You four went out to Elena’s SUV, driving to the Grill. 

Loud music blasted into your ears as soon as you stepped inside. You smiled as you saw everything dancing and having the time of their life. 

“Shots?” Caroline suggested. 

“Hell yeah!” Elena squealed. 

“Iced tea for you, Y/n?” Caroline asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded. 

“Alright, you guys go to the pool table. I’ll be back,” Caroline said. 

“Where is Stefan?” You asked, looking around the bar and walking to the pool table that was conveniently empty. 

“Right here!” 

You turned around, smiling once you saw Stefan in a grey shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. You went to hug him, but Damon stopped you. 

“Ah, ah, ah. How do we know it isn’t Silas?” Damon asked. 

Stefan rolled his eyes. He pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, taking it and drinking it quickly. 

“Alright, alright, we know it’s you. Cool it on the blood, brother. Don’t want to go into a bloodlust,” Damon said, taking the empty bag and throwing it in the trash. 

“Well, I don’t really know how else to prove I’m not Silas,” Stefan sighed. “Can I get that hug now?”

You smiled and nodded, wrapping your arms around him. 

Between everyone else, Damon and Stefan were your best friends. They were like the brothers you’ve never had, protecting you and teasing you whenever they felt like it was necessary. You hadn’t seen Stefan in a while since he was found in the safe, but you were glad to see he was okay. 

“Glad to see you’re okay, Stef,” you said, pulling back. 

“And I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen victim to my doppelgänger,” Stefan smiled. 

Caroline came back with shots, pleasantly surprised to see Stefan. 

“Stefan! You’re here! Oh, my God the whole gang is here!” She squealed, putting down the shots and engulfing Stefan is a big hug. 

“I’m excited to be here, too. This is the first time I’ve really gone out for fun. I hope nothing goes wrong,” Stefan joked. 

“Well, if any of you spot Silas, make sure to not let him get close to Y/n. We don’t know what he could do to her,” Caroline said.

You rolled your eyes at her concern, but didn’t say anything. You knew it would end up with you two arguing and that was the last thing anything wanted. Forbes were very controlling and heated when they got angry.

You took your tea and sipped on it as Damon downed the first shot. 

“Wait, are we playing in teams?” You asked. 

“Yeah, which one do you wanna be one? Damon and I’s?” Stefan asked. 

“Definitely yours,” you said. “Oh, what! You know I win all the time,” Damon said. 

“Yeah, but when you lose you get so mad. It’s hilarious,” you giggled.

“True, it is cute,” Elena smirked. 

Damon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You two are so annoying.”

You smiled and played with your friends for a little while. It came to a time where everyone was too tipsy to where they could barely walk, so you were in charge of getting the drinks. Damon and Caroline, despite being pretty much drunk, stayed close behind you. 

“Hey, Matt,” you smiled at the boy working behind the bar. “Hey, Y/n! Let me guess, more shots and another iced tea?” He asked. 

“You guessed right,” you chuckled. 

“So, how is school?” He asked. 

“Pretty good. History is kicking my ass, per usual. It’s weird because I’m surrounded by history buffs,” you said. 

“Well, I know you have Damon helping you, but Stefan is a lot better at tutoring, in my opinion. I know he’s been having a rough time, though,” Matt said. 

“He has, which is why I should be your tutor,” Silas smirked next to you. 

You jumped slightly, surprised to see him there. You looked at him, seeing him wearing a dark navy shirt and jeans. Your eyes stared at his biceps and his strong, broad shoulders. Once you noticed him smirking at you, you looked back to the drinks Matt was filling. 

“Now I get the silent treatment? C’mon, not fair,” Silas whined.

“You shouldn’t be here, man,” Matt said. 

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about, it huh?” Silas taunted, looking at Matt with narrow, menacing eyes. 

Matt rolled his eyes, putting the tequila shots and your drink on a tray and handing them to you. 

“Thanks, Matt,” you smiled.

You took the tray, ready to turn around and walk away from Silas. He put his arm up, planning to grab your arm to stop you, but Caroline and Damon used their vamp speed to push him back. 

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Caroline sneered. Veins were circulating under her eyes and she bared her fangs. 

Silas smirked, not at all fazed. “Oh, please, I could kill both of you so fast, you couldn’t have chance to say bye to Y/n. Now, let me go, Damon.”

Damon’s grip on Silas’s arms tightened. “Not a chance. We’re going outside and I’m gonna make sure you are far away from here.”

Damon then took Silas to the exit, Silas looking back at you and giving you a wink. Caroline groaned in disgust and took the tray away from you. 

“You okay?” She asked. 

“I’m fine, Care! He wasn’t going to hurt me,” you glared at her. 

“You don’t know that! Why are you defending him? Doesn't he annoy you?” Caroline asked. 

“Yeah, he does,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end, alluding to something else.

Caroline stared at you intensely, gasping once she put the pieces together. “You… You like him? Ugh, why! He’s a monster.”

“I don’t like him! God, why is that always your first assumption?” You asked.

“Because you obviously are having physical reactions to him. We all see the way you look down in shyness when he flirts with you, and we can hear your heart racing. We just hoped you wouldn’t give in,” Caroline sighed. 

“I’m not! I don’t like him in any way, okay? Just because I defend someone doesn’t mean I automatically like them!”

“That’s what you always say! You need to get rid of those feelings, Y/n. He’s not a good person.”

You closed your eyes in frustration, sighing roughly. “I’m going to the bathroom to cool down. When I come out, you better not say anything else about me liking Silas.”

You spun on your heels, storming off to the bathroom. You washed your hands, putting them to your forehead to cool yourself down. 

“Feelings for Silas, please,” you scoffed to yourself. 

“She’s right. I know it, you know it. Everyone does.”

You looked in the mirror, jumping once you saw Silas behind you. You turned around quickly. 

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked.

“I knocked Damon out,” he shrugged. 

“What?! Is he okay?” You asked. “Yes, he’s fine. I know that you would hate me if I killed one of your friends,” he said.

You sighed, “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.” You went to the door, but Silas once again blocked the entrance. 

“You gotta be quicker, Y/n. Someday you might find yourself in real trouble,” Silas smiled down at you. 

“You are real trouble,” you retorted.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. If I was then you’d be screaming for your life. But you’re just standing there, looking so incredibly kissable,” Silas said, shamelessly looking at your lips. 

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you looked down to hide your face. “No, I just don’t want to make a scene,” you mumbled. 

Silas put his hand on your chin, making your eyes meet his. “While that is true, you also having feelings for me.”

You stepped away from him, his hand falling to his side. “I don’t. You’re evil and cheated on your girlfriend. No girl wants to be with a guy like that.”

“Elena practically cheated on Stefan emotionally, you’re still friends with her,” Silas stated. 

You furrowed your brows, not sure what to say back. He was correct, but you knew that wasn’t the point. You needed to get out of there otherwise Caroline and Damon would freak out. 

Silas walked towards you slowly, like you were his prey that he was stalking. You turned around, not wanting to look at him. Silas grinned, seeing as his plan would work out even better now that you were facing the mirrors. 

He put his hand on your bare arm, dragging his fingertips up your skin. 

“I’m so glad you took off the leather jacket. Your outfit looks so much better without it,” he murmured. 

You immediately froze. Your eyes were glued to the two of you in the mirror. You watched as his hand went up to your shoulders, pressing down lightly on your muscles. 

“Shouldn’t you be running, Y/n?” Silas asked, moving. your hair out of the way so he could get a better view of your neck. 

You knew you should, but his touch felt so good. It weirdly calmed your nerves down, but also made you flustered as hell. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to stay in this bathroom and let him take you. Silas smiled at your thoughts, lowering his lips down to your shoulder. 

“I can totally take you right here if you want,” he whispered, his lips making contact with your skin. 

You inhaled sharply, finding yourself stumbling back into his chest. His other arm went around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Your skin is so soft, doll face,” he said while kissing up your neck. 

You watched him in the mirror, your stomach doing flips. Your legs felt weak and heat gathered in between your thighs. You had honestly wanted to kiss him this whole time. You decided a few more minutes in the bathroom couldn’t hurt. 

So you turned around, crashing your lips onto his. Silas smiled as you kissed him, his hands trailing down to your legs. He lifted you up with ease, taking you to the sink and placing you on the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running themselves through his hair. 

“Silas,” you breathed out as you felt his hands on your thighs, going higher and higher. 

“You like that, princess?” He hummed, his fingers going higher until they reached your clothed entrance. He pulled away, grinning and looking you in the eyes. 

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, pulling his face close to yours roughly.

Your lips collided again, your heart and brain exploding. Kissing him felt like heaven.

Silas mirrored your neediness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You pressed your chest up to him more, your hands going down from his head to the bottom of his shirt. You lifted it up, Silas pulling away so you could pull it off of him. You sat back and admired his abs and muscles, excitement growing in between your thighs. 

You dove down to his neck, kissing and sucking lightly. Your hands explored his chest, tracing along his prominate abs. Silas breathed heavily into your ear, groaning as you found his sweet spot. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he panted. 

You smirked against his skin. Before you could put your hands on his belt, the bathroom door burst open. You saw Caroline and Damon standing, eyes huge and mouths agape. 

“What the hell!” Caroline shrieked. 

Your eyes widened and you pushed Silas away from you, getting off the counter. 

“Really, Y/n? You pick him to make out with in the bathroom?” Damon groaned. 

“It is just happened,” you shrugged sheepishly. 

“Yeah, she’s a really good kisser,” Silas smirked. “I never would have expected it since she’s shy and all, but man, she is wil-”

“You shut the hell up. And you,” Caroline pointed to you. “Are going home. now.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Care,” you said. 

Caroline looked at you two incredulously. “You’re making her say this! You pressured her, didn’t you!” She pointed to Silas. 

“He’s not! I was the one who kissed him first,” you admitted. “Yeah, but I helped a little,” Silas smirked. 

Caroline made her vampire face and lunged at Silas, to which Damon pulled her back. 

“Alright, blondie, why don’t you take Y/n home and I’ll deal with Silas, okay?” Damon said. 

Caroline huffed and nodded, grabbing you by the arm roughly. 

“We’ll continue another time, doll face!” Silas exclaimed. 

“No, you will not,” Damon glared.

————

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@123cxcv​

[laurie-stark]

Unwanted-Peter Parker

Summary: Y/n Stark gets more than she bargains for when she joins her Pops, Captian America, for the civil war of the century.

Pairings: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader, Steve Rogers x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting

A/N: Just so you don't get too confused, Y/n is Tony Stark's biological child, however, she was raised by the Avengers and refers to Natasha and Steve as Mama and Pops. Also I wrote this a year ago LOL. Enjoy x

Part Two

New York, 2016

This was bad. Very, very bad. I had seen the secretary come in the compound over the screen of the security monitors. He marched into my home, unannounced and unwelcome, holding himself with purpose. I followed him over the screens, tracking his movements. I watched as he was led through the building, up the elevator and into...the conference room? Oh this was bad. Very, very bad.

I raced as fast as I could. By the time I got the to conference room, the whole group was already sitting in front of the secretary. I saw Wanda first. Her back was to me, but I could see her rigid frame and I knew something was happening. My  father saw me approaching through the glass walls. He shot me a look that said "Don't do it. Don't come in here." I didn't obey.

The secretary stopped speaking abruptly when I walked through the doors. He gave me a quizzical look, did a once over and immediately looked at my father. Surely I don't look that much like Tony.

"Sorry I'm late, no one informed me about this team meeting," I gasped, short of breath from all the running. Of course, this was pushing it. As much as I wanted to be a part of the group, fighting was not my style, so I often got left out of important Avengers activities. I got to live with them, but that was it. Tony rose from his seat. He mumbled an apology to the secretary and gently ushered I out of the room. I would have fought back, but seeing the look on my father's face was enough to shut me up. And I never shut up. The secretary resumed his story. Something about golf and a heart attack.

My dad turned to face me. "Look kid, I get that you want to know what's going on, and you will, but today isn't the day."

"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's okay to be curious," he replied, walking back into the meeting. "Stay upstairs, okay hun?" I nodded and started the trek back up to my room. I shut the door and flopped onto my bed. Out of my long list of pet peeves, this was number one. Sure, I didn't want to fight, but come on family, I should at least get to be in on what's going on! Maybe I could help. I have powers for God sake. I am more than capable of helping the Avengers. But they always saw me as the little girl who needs protection.

"April, pull up security footage of the conference room please," I asked. April, the AI I built, that was modeled after Friday, projected the video surveillance from the ceiling. "Volume up." The group was in the same position as from when I left. The secretary was passing around the room. There was a thick white book being passed around the table.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve said quietly. "I feel we've done that."

The secretary looked down at him. "Tell me Cap, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" What? You were so confused. Why did the secretary care where my uncles were? No one answered the secretary's question, so he kept talking. I racked your brain to find the answers on my own. "...this is the middle ground." The secretary pointed at the book, now lying untouched on the table.

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked.

"The you retire," the secretary responded. With that, he left the room and I scurried back downstairs.

Everyone was in the living room. I sat in the stairwell, again being uninvited to this group discussion. I listened to them fight. I figured out what was going on. The United Nations were being ungrateful little bitches and hated that they didn't have control over my family. So they gave an ultimatum: give in or give up. From the sounds of it, Uncle Rhodes, Vision and two of my four parents were in agreement with the accords. Steve and Sam were against it. Wanda hadn't said a word. Tension was growing high, I could feel it. I heard my father conclude that he won and a thud of the accords being tossed on the coffee table. Someone got up and left. Before I had the chance to act, the door to the stairwell was torn open. Steve pushed through and nearly stepped on me.

"Eavesdropping?" He smiled.

"You kicked me out, what else am I supposed to do?" I retorted. I noticed the tears welling in Steve's eyes. "Pops, what's wrong?"

Steve's glance fluttered to the ground. "Peggy. She, um..." was all he said. All he had to say. I  was smart enough to read between the lines. I stepped forward and hugged Steve. He smiled, grateful that he had me. I knew how much Peggy meant to him. When I was little, he'd always tell me the story about how they met, how they never got that dance. And every time I would make him dance with me. He even took me to visit her once. I was ten and it was Christmas time. Steve told me that he wanted his favorite girl to meet his favorite niece. Now that was all but a memory. I held him tight before telling him to go. It was okay, I could handle the others. He left without a second glance.

Within days the team was scattered. Steve and Sam had gone to Peggy's funeral. Natasha was off to the signing of the Accords in Vienna. And then all hell broke loose when the bombs went off at the signing ceremony. As always, I  were left home. I had no idea what was going on. At first this break in the team was about the Accords, but somehow Steve's old pal Bucky got involved. I didn't know what to think. The next thing I knew, everyone left for Berlin to rescue Steve and Sam from jail, leaving myself, Wanda and Vision at home.

When night fell, I was in my room, sulking as one would say. I was spending my evening flipping through Tumblr. There was a new superhero everyone was talking about. He called himself Spider-Man. New York based, focused on small neighborhood crimes. By YouTube footage alone, it was obvious he was a rookie. Soon enough, though, I accidentally conducted a full fledged search on this guy. He seemed shady. Sure, he's helping old ladies cross the street and all, but he just has a vibe. I couldn't put my finger on it. April broke me out of my research when she told me that there was a security breach in the compound. I pulled up the security camera footage and saw Clint Barton in my living room with Wanda levitating a knife at his nose.

I rushed downstairs. When I got to the living room Vision was holding Clint by the neck. I watched in silence as Wanda used her powers on Vision. She made it look easy. Slowly, Vision sunk to his knees. Wanda pushed further and the floor gave way. Vision was pushed through all seventy-four thousand levels of the compound. Wanda and Clint were about to turn to run out when you revealed yourself.

"Now was that really necessary?" I smirked. "We just had the floors waxed."

"Y/n," Clint warned.

"I'm not sitting on my ass," I said. Clint smirked and nodded. He knew he couldn't stop me anyways.

One car ride, plane flight and van trip later, I was in Germany. As it turns out, Steve wanted Clint and Wanda on his side, along with some ant dude named Scott. Scott was cool. Him and I sat together on the plane ride and watched Die Hard. He was asleep in the van when we pulled over in the airport parking lot. Clint told me to stay in the van. For once, I listened. I heard voices belonging to Steve and Sam. Clint slid open the van doors abruptly, shaking Scott awake. I chuckled to myself as he fangirled over my Pops. A voice over the intercom said something in a language I didn't know. A voice I didn't recognize said that the airport was being evacuated.

"Stark." Sam muttered.

Scott looked puzzled. Clearly he hadn't been filled in either. "Stark?" he asked.

I step out of the van. "Yes?" Steve and Sam look at me with wide eyes. Clint gave Steve a sheepish shrug. Behind their little blue car stood Bucky Barnes. I knew who he was. I learned about him in school. I knew he was some evil super soldier that attacked Natasha and Steve. He looked scary. He looked exactly like the type of guy to hurt my Mama and Pops. I held his glance until Steve spoke up.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Steve whisper-shouted. His voice always got quiet when he 'yelled' at me.

"I hitchhiked." I replied, knowing that at this point Steve didn't have the time to argue with me. He shook his head in defeat and took a deep breath.

"Suit up."

The airport was huge. Our group got suited up and started for the runway. I didn't know how Steve knew where to find my dad, but I followed him anyways. Before I could get any closer, Bucky held me back.

"It's, uh, not gonna be safe. You should stay here and keep low," he said. I frowned. I did not come all this way to not fight. But even still, I nodded. Bucky scared me. He and Sam took off in another direction to find the getaway jet. I laughed. This whole thing was ridiculous. My attention turned to the sound of my father and Rhodey flying down from the sky.

"Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in," Tony started. "That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve replied nonchalantly.

"Your judgement is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday-"

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find 'em first Tony. I can't."

"Steve," Natasha approached him slowly. "You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

I took this as my cue. "No, but I will," I said, emerging from my hiding spot. I looked at the faces of your family. My gaze fell on Tony and my smile dropped. He looked angry.

"You brought my daughter into this?" Tony yelled, turning to Steve.

"Technically, I brought myself," I said. "You really think you were gonna leave me out of all the fun?"

Tony pinched his brow. "Y/n, this is serious."

"No it's not," I objected. "No, this got personal the second you thought you were gonna loose Pops to Bucky." No one moved after I said that.

"Alright, I've run out of patience," my father finally spoke. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Underoos!"

Before I had a chance to process, a red and black blur whipped past my head. It landed on top of a nearby van. It was Spider-Man. As in the Spider-Man. He had taken Cap's shield from him. I said nothing. My father could have recruited me, but instead he chose this little neighborhood nobody. That hurt a little. The Spider-thing and my father bantered for a minute. So he's never even been in a real fight before, I thought.

"You've been busy," Steve smirked.

Tony turned back to Steve. "And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint and Y/n, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep-" he paused, sighing. "I'm trying to keep to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you signed." Steve kept his cool. My father did not.

"Alright, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us! Or squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction of being polite. Come on."

Everyone stood still, waiting. Steve put his web-cuffed hands in the air. Clint shot them free from a mile away. I saw Scott -or a tiny version of him. Spider-Man noticed too, right before Scott grew and kicked him in the face. My dad flew off to retrieve Wanda and Rhodey was ready to take on Cap.

"Hey Mr. Stark, what should I do?" Spider-Man asked. He sounded young.

"What we discussed, keep your distance, web 'em up!" My father barked, as he flew towards Clint and Wanda.

"Okay, copy that," Spider-Man replied. He shot a web at me first. It caught my arm and I got whipped to the ground. I glared at him.

"Really?" I hissed.

"Just following Mr. Stark's orders," He said before swinging off after Bucky. I was left on the ground once everyone dispersed. I tried pulling my hand out of the sticky material that was shot at me, but it was stronger than glue. I was forced to watch the action unfold and wait until Natasha ran past me.

"Mama, a little help here?" I called out to her.

She stopped for a second. "Sorry honey, I really don't want you getting hurt." She ran off and I groaned. No one ever wants me to get hurt. I suppose I should be grateful, but in a moment like this, gratitude is hard to find. I started toying with the web. I wondered if I could break down the molecules. Surely there had to be some sort of H2O compound in it somewhere.

My power surged through me, the current flowing to the hand webbed to the ground. I managed to manipulate the water out, just as I predicted I would. The substance melted off my hands. Gross, I thought. I wiped the remaining web on my pants and got up. The water from the webbing fell to the ground with a splash.

I stood up and examined my surroundings. Natasha was on the ground fighting Scott, who shrunk down and flipped her over her own head. The Black Panther was on the other side of the roof, battling Steve. I didn't move. As much as I wanted to be included, I couldn't bring myself to fight. Not now at least.

The two teams assembled, divided by a line on the pavement. How cinematic. I was on Cap's side. I never meant to fight against my father. If anything, I thought it was funny. I looked out at the team in front of me. They were all lined up, Rhodey, the cat, Tony, Nat, the Spider-brat. Vision hovered above them. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I were scared. I wasn't made to fight.

"What do we do Cap?" Sam asked.

"We fight." Steve moved first. We followed in suit. My dad's team mimicked my team's actions and walked closer. We  broke into a jog and then a full out run. This was really about to happen. I hoped that my family would go easy on me. I knew what I was doing. I reassured myself of that. I have done a bunch of training, especially with Wanda. I could move the freaking elements with my mind and manipulate gravity! As if the Spider-Man could beat that. I am Y/n fricking Stark. I can do this.

I put a smile on your face, contrasting everyone else's bitter looks. "I call the spider!" I yelled, just as everyone began the battle. Spider-Man heard me and slowed down just a bit. I cocked an eyebrow. He resumed his pace and ran straight for me. I ran headfirst towards him. He threw out his arm to web me, but I was faster. With a swish of my hands, I changed his gravitational pull and made his feet flip out from under him. He landed on his back with a hard thud. As gently as I could, I morphed the pavement under him to trap his hands. "Careful there, Spider-boy. Don't wanna get stepped on." I walked away. I made it about ten steps before I heard the sound of concrete cracking. I turned around and saw that Spider-Man was breaking free of his restraints. I was shocked. He has super strength. Great. I should have moved out of his way because the second he got one hand free, I was webbed against a truck.

"For the record," he said, getting up in my face. "It's Spider-Man." He swung off into the airport through a glass window. I watched the glass rained onto the ground. Taking a deep breath, I quickly removed myself from the webs. I needed a plan. A strategy. I thought about at the opposing team. Everyone was scattered around the airport. I thought about who would be easiest to fight. But then I realized, the strategy wasn't about how they'd fight, but who. There was no way in hell that my parents or Uncle Rhodey would even think about fighting me. The Black Panther didn't know me, so he was a threat. The worst Vision could do was pick me up and fly away, so he was in thr safe zone. That left the spider. I smiled to myself. Rematch time.

By the time I found Spider-Man, he had already webbed Sam and Bucky to the floor. He was perched on top of a light post, saying something about impressing my father. Sam's mini falcon whizzed past me and grabbed Spider-Man by the web. He got pulled out a window, banging his side into the pane on the way out. I ran over to Sam and Bucky. Quickly, I destroyed the webbing and helped them up. They both gave me a quick "Thanks kid," before running back out. I followed them, staying loose on their trail.

Once I got outside my eyes scanned the area for the Spider. I saw Wanda piling cars on my father and Natasha fighting Clint. Then I spotted him, fighting Cap. He was underneath a jet bridge . Cap threw his shield at the support beams and the whole thing fell on top of Spider-Man. He caught it of course, but Cap ran away. I formed my plan.

"Hey!" I called out. I walked around the collapsing jet bridge. I stood in front of the struggling boy. Or man, I didn't know. "Remember me?"

"Heh, how could I forget such a pretty face," he grunted, starting to fold under the weight of the jet bridge. "You wanna give me a hand?" I glared at his face comment, but lifted the jet bridge anyway. He ran out and I let it fall. Both of us stopped for a minute, gasping for breath beside the rubble. He was close enough to hit. So I did. Without warning I threw a punch of air at him. It hit him right in the chest and he got blown back into the side of a van. "What the hell man?" He got up and shot a web at me. I dodged and threw another gust of wind. It shot him out of the air. He webbed at a pole and swung past my face. I redirected his gravitational pull, but not before he got a kick to my face. We both got thrown in different directions. I landed hard on the ground, pain shooting up my spine. I got up first, now angry. Forgetting about my powers, I lunged at him and threw a punch. I missed and he shot webs at my feet, holding me down. Immediately, I dissolved them and Spider-Man's eyes widened. Well, his mask's eye holes did anyway.

"How did you do that?" He yelled. "What kind of witchcraft-"

"Its not witchcraft," I spat. "It's called manipulation of the elements, look it up. I figured there had to be some water compound in this and I was right. All I had to do was remove it."

"That's so cool! And how did you do the foot thing earlier? Was that just the wind you do or do you have telekinesis too? Are you like the Scarlet Witch?" He rambled on. I took this to my advantage and caught him off guard. I used the van he'd hit earlier to become his gravitational pull and yanked. He went slamming into it and groaned. When he tried to get back up, I was already five steps ahead of him. Morphing the earth metals in the van, I contorted it into a shell that crushed Spider-Man until he was covered and stuck.

I heard Scott say that he was gonna tear himself in half over the earpiece. I got distracted from holding Spider-Man down and turned to see a giant Scott. Spider-Man broke free. He tore the shell off himself and threw it at me. I was wacked across the side and fell the the ground again.

"Holy shit!" he says, looking at Scott. His back was to me and I gave him one last wind push. He fell on his face and I laughed. "Oh come on, don't you have some dolls to play with or something?" I just scoffed and walked past him, stepping past his hand that was on the ground. He let out a yelp and you kept walking. Dolls, I thought. I'm thirteen I don't play with dolls. I watched as the rest of the battle went down. I wasn't quite sure what to do. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Natasha was standing just behind me. "Come with me." We started jogging off. It was natural for me to listen to her. I realized about five seconds in that technically she was my enemy right about now, but I shrugged it off. I ran through the fight, past the big Scott and towards a warehouse. I could see the outline of a jet get bigger as I approached it. Natasha stopped behind the entrance. She was waiting.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We wait to fight," She replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. I came to realize this probably means I would be fighting her. Maybe she wanted to use me as a hostage or something. No, that's silly. Right?

Steve and Bucky got closer to the building I was in. They nearly made it until Vision laser beamed the shit out of a nearby communications tower. Wanda caught it before it fell, giving the two men time to race towards the jet. I stepped out to help Wanda. The both of us were able to hold the rubble long enough for Steve and Bucky to get through. I panted, proud of myself for getting this far.

A searing pain sliced through my brain. Both myself and Wanda fell to the ground, screaming. I could barely look up to see that Rhodey was sending some sort of wave through the air. The tower fell and Natasha was quick to haul me out of the way before I got crushed. I might be better than Spider-Man, but I definitely don't have his super strength.

Steve and Bucky still managed to get through the falling paces of metal and concrete. Natasha left my side and marched swiftly towards the two men. I couldn't hear them, but I could sense the tension from a mile away. Natasha lifted her arm, taser aimed and ready. Steve held his shield up in defense as Natasha shoots....the Black Panther? I guess she's on our side now? The jet started to take off and you watch an Natasha continues to battle the Panther. I fell to my side, wiped out.

My father flew into the warehouse just as the jet leaves. You thought maybe he was going to fight Natasha for betraying him. I was wrong. He was coming for me. He landed beside me and dropped to his knees. His helmet closed and I could see the worry plastered on his cut up face. He knelt beside me and gently held me up.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded, not really able to make words. He looked over at Natasha, who was looking at us. She had an apologetic look, but I know she doesn't regret letting Cap go. My father let me go and charged off after the jet plane. I lied down, enjoying the feeling of cold concrete against your skin. I closed my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I paced around the living room, driving Nat crazy. I knew that the second my father got home I would be in deep shit. So when Friday alerted me that Tony was home my heart rate went up 29373%. The battle, this fight, it ended worse then I could have imagined. Natasha told me that my father could have died. Rhodey was paralyzed from the waist down. I had no idea if I'd ever see my Pops again. This was bad. Very, very bad.

I slowly walked down the main hall towards the front doors. I was scared. My hands and the back of my neck were sweating. I knew exactly what was coming. Every time I had asked my dad if I could be an honorary Avenger, I got the same lecture. That it was too dangerous, I didn't have the proper training and it's too much for his little girl to handle. Even when I asked to just be a part of the business side of the team, Tony laughed and said no. I've broken a lot of my father's rules, but this was the line. And I had gone so far over.

As I approached the front door, I could hear my father speaking. I heard another voice too. My heart dropped. It was Spider-Man. Why was Spider-Man here? I ducked behind a wall and listened in to the conversation.

"...outstanding job kid. Your fighting technique was on par. And, listen, I know we're not allowed to have kids on this team, but if we need you again, we'll call." I heard my father say.

"Thanks Mr. Stark. This was so cool," Spider-Man replied. I wondered if he had his suit on or not. I wanted to know who this guy was. I revealed myself from behind the wall. The two looked at me. I looked at my father first and fought the urge to burst into tears. He looked awful. His face was all cut up and the black eye he got was still a little swollen. I glanced at the figure beside him and frowned. Spider-Man was a kid. He looked like he was my age. He had a mop of curly brown hair and doe eyes. He was almost equally as beat up as my dad and I gracefully took credit for that.

"Y/n, this is Peter. He's, uh, one of my interns. Kid, this is Y/n," Tony said. My annoyance turned to anger. Now my father was lying to me?

"How old are you?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I knew that I sounded rude, but this kid had kicked me in the face twice. I didn't think he deserved my manners.

"I'm fourteen," Peter gulped. A year older than me. And I kicked his ass, I thought. "You gave me quite a fight back in Berlin."

"Yeah and I beat your ass doing it."

"Speaking of which," Tony spoke up, "I have to talk to Y/n about that. Happy will take you home Peter." Peter nodded and said goodbye to my father. He said goodbye to me, to which I didn't reply. Peter frowned at that as he walked out the door.

My dad turned to me when the door shut. "What," he began, "were you thinking?"

"Well I-"

"No. This is where you listen. Do you know how dangerous that mission was. Do you know how many people got hurt? You saw what happened to Rhodey, that could have been you!"

"But it wasn't" I retorted.

Tony's frown deepened. "That is not the point. You put yourself in serious danger, and for what? So you could feel a little more included? You could have died. This was my one rule, my one ask of you, and your broke it."

"Oh, come on now, I'm a Stark, it's in our blood to not listen to our fathers." My father gave me the coldest look and I shut down. I took a deep breath. "Look, I didn't know that it was gonna be this bad. You know me, daddy, I'm not a fighter, I'm not some hero. You think I would have gone if I knew it would turn out like this? I thought this was just gonna be another one your you and Pops' stupid fights. And yes, I could have gotten hurt, but I think I handled myself pretty well. You saw what I did you that little protege of yours. I beat him to the curb."

"Y/n you were reckless. Peter was prepared for this, he was ready."

"And I still beat him."

"Y/n you're not listening to me. This is why I chose Peter over you. I would have taken you if I knew you wouldn't do something stupid. But you did anyway." And with that he walked away, leaving me, teary-eyed in the front hall.

Tony came by my room later that night to apologize. He said that he was sorry for being harsh, that he just cared about me and I scared him. I knew he meant it and I forgave him, because that's what we do. Besides, it wasn't Tony I was angry with. This is why I chose Peter over you. Tony's words echoed through my head. I knew that he loved me more, I'm his daughter, he had to. But I were jealous. Jealous that stupid Peter Parker got the praise for the work I've wanted to hear for ages. And mad at that stupid spider for being stupid.

This is when I decided that I hate Peter Parker.

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

WELCOME BACK, AGENT ; PART 4 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.5k SUMMARY: You're back at your desk job at the TVA, suffering the consequences of your mistakes that led to your crash on Sakaar. However, Mobius has a better job for you than doing just paperwork. A/N: I feel like this one has more platonic mobius x reader than loki x reader lol but you know, this loki is meeting her for the first time again. please leave comments, criticism or love, whatever, I love to hear from you guys who are reading this. enjoy xo gif by @alligatorlokis from this gifset WARNINGS: Swearing. Paperwork. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

The sweet musky smell almost lulls you to sleep as you skim through the case file of a Loki variant, pictures and text of monochrome glaring under the unforgiving fluorescent office lighting. It’s a harsh reminder of your mishap; a simple overlook during a mission that sent you crashing onto the wasteland of Sakaar. According to the reports as you stood on the pedestal, pleading your innocence to the judge, you were there for an estimated 600 years. Maybe more.

The thought of spending six centuries stranded on a planet sends a wave of pain through your skull—it’s overwhelming information but unsurprising. You do feel like you’ve spent 600 years on that God-forsaken planet.

Now, your once fugitive days have been replaced with the return of being trapped behind a desk and having to recount every event that took place during your time there. Word for word. You despise the TVA’s love of paperwork—it’s a fucking nightmare.

The collar of your shirt feels itchy against the back of your neck, bringing your nails to graze it furiously.

You decide to ignore Miss Minutes' cheery voice despite your agitation, your name rolling off her southern accent. It hints at her chagrin towards your disregarding nature.

"Are you even listenin' to me?"

Her voice lacks all sense of her once constant sunny disposition. You spare the projection a glance, watching her rubber-hose-like arms curve to her where you assume her hips would be. She looks at you with an expectant raised brow. You don’t say anything, keeping eye contact as you snatch an empty event report template, spinning in your swivel chair and away from the glowing tangerine clock.

With pursed lips, you swipe the scatter of mess away, revealing an orange typewriter that sits idly within the expense of your stacks of case files and your collection of vintage Earth cassettes. You hear Miss Minutes' sigh as she strides to the other end of your desk, perching on top of a dusty stack of pending paperwork.

“C’mon, it’s just a test,” the animated clock says. You spare her another look as you feed the report template into the roller forcefully. Bing! The return bar dings unceremoniously as it nearly startles Miss Minutes off the stack.

“That is exactly why I’m refusing to listen to you,” you mutter with annoyance, fingers already flying across the keyboard, punching letters onto the event summary section. The loud clickety-clack of the keys makes it impossible to hear over it. “I don’t get why I need to take a test when I clearly know everything I need to know.”

“Well, you were gone for a very long time and we just wanna test your memory on policies and procedures here at the TVA—”

“Then, why didn’t they come and get me earlier? From the moment I stepped foot on Sakaar, I did everything I could to create a Nexus event or even just a spike and you only came when? When I met Loki.”

Your eyes are now on her startled figure, clicks and clacks coming to an abrupt end. You’re upset over your arrest, the whole hoo-ha at the courtroom, and everything before that. Your behavior is nearly childish but understandable to those who express empathy. You feel like you were being used, prioritizing the capture of the Loki variant that has been causing a ruckus to the timeline. But, it is your job to protect the TVA and the sacred timeline. Although you feel that the TVA should be protecting its employees as well.

“Look, I am not taking that test and that’s my final word. Everyone knows I am capable of handling myself. Plus, I do have tons of paperwork to refresh my memory on policies and procedures if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The cartoon clock nods but with hesitation. However, you do make a fair point. Thus, with a swish and a blip, Miss Minutes disappears into thin air, and you’re left to your own devices once more.

Finally some goddamn peace.

As if the universe doesn’t loathe you enough, someone calls your name, approaching from behind you. A groan escapes from your lips, scowling at the glaring keys of the typewriter.

“What?” you spat. In a swift motion, you swivel in your seat and turn to look over your shoulder.

It’s Mobius, approaching you with sudden caution. You let your shoulder sag with relief, happy to see a familiar friendly face.

“Glad to see you’re back and still feisty.” Mobius hesitantly taps your shoulder, flashing you a small consoling smile. Your expression, however, remains unchanged. “Well, you guys did find me after all.” He spots the glimmer of melancholy in your eyes; they avert back to face the typewriter, hands resting on the keys. Mobius shoves his hand into the pockets of his brown slacks, shifting to lean against the edge of your desk. He knows to tread lightly around you after what happened. You’ve changed with wrinkles of age and crinkles of exhaustion. Sakaar must have not been kind to you.

Yet, you’re here, at your desk; alive and well.

“Hey, what’s got you all wound up?”

It’s a stupid question, really but it’s a question to show he still cares. You have every right to be upset. However, you have every right to be thankful. You would have been pruned. Desk cleared and cassettes discarded—it would be as if you never existed. Renslayer would have never given you any mercy after the act you pulled. Disobeying orders and recklessly throwing yourself into danger with the risk of bringing the whole TVA down. You’re impulsive on missions, but it’s your unrelenting determination that drives you to be one of the greatest analysts Mobius has ever seen.

You’re also a friend. A great one. And he isn’t planning on losing one.

“Please prune me, Mobius.”

Your statement comes off as intentionally sarcastic rather than truly meaningful.

“What? I always thought you adored paperwork.” Mobius hears you groan, burying your face in your hands, elbows propped up on the desk. “My back is already hurting, and I have a migraine just thinking about typing out reports of my time on Sakaar. I think it’s quite clear I adore paperwork.” Your muffled voice tinges sarcasm heavily.

Laughter erupts in his chest. He's glad that your sense of humor never changed. Then, the moment quickly passes and he senses a sudden change in the air. You turn up to look at him.

“What was my Nexus event?”

It’s abrupt, almost arbitrary but leads him to even more confusion. Mobius finds himself frowning. “You don’t know?”

You blink. “That’s the one thing they never told me.”

He shifts in his seat on the edge of your desk, blinking up to the ceiling in thought. “Well, from what I heard...it was because Loki willingly helped you. And it wasn’t for his own advantage.”

It’s your turn to frown. “Wouldn’t that be Loki's fault?”

“Apparently not. It was all you.”

You laugh in response; it comes out like a puff of air. “Well, then. That’s a first. I guess I can finally add manipulation to my list of skills. Plus, pick-pocketing weird cosmic fruits.”

Mobius laughs and taps your shoulder again.

“C’mon, take a walk with me. I’ve got a new case that I need your help with.” You shoot him a quizzical look, eyes catching sight of a thick case file in hand—must be important. “I thought I was supposed to be on desk duty.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to sit behind the desk the whole time,” he shoots back a clever answer with a raised eyebrow, beckoning you to accept his offer. Your laugh comes off as more of a snort. It’s the first one in a while. You stand on your feet, stretching your limbs as you shrug on your coat that was hung over the back of your chair.

“Plus, you’re under my supervision,” he says before turning on his heel, heading for the exit. You watch him raise a hand, his back to you, gesturing for you to follow as he pushes through the wooden door. You hum with amusement, trailing behind him.

-

The winding hallways feel hollow, mundane walls lacking any color of brightness the TVA tries to bring to the space when in all fairness, orange isn’t much of a fun color now that everywhere you look, there’s a tinge of tangerine somewhere. The posters that adorn the walls are your least favorite parts of the headquarters’ decorative choice. You pass one that says 'Always Watching' in big bold letters, ominously glaring at you. The words are far from comforting, almost inhumane—a jarring reminder of where you are and where you stand in the hierarchy of this bureaucratic organization.

Mobius clears his throat from beside you, pulling you out from your thoughts. In a weirdly discreet manner, he hands you the case file with an outstretched hand. You take it, eyeing him and his odd behavior, there’s an unexpected shift in the air.

Then, you glance down, reading the scrawled words on the file that reads: Variant L1130, Loki Laufeyson.

Your strides come to an abrupt end, whipping your head up to see Mobius’ sheepish smile. Your eyes are wide, and you’re shaking your head in utmost objection.

“No, no, no. No. Absolutely no—”

“C’mon, it’s just—”

“No, Mobius. Nuh-uh. I swear, if I have to deal with another Loki, I will prune myself. I literally will.”

You're shoving the file to him, as he attempts to suck it up to you like the optimistic idiot he is although he very well knows once you’ve made up your mind, you cannot be swayed. You’re stubborn, rebellious—it’s what makes you dangerous. Yet, the TVA are pessimists. It’s Mobius who truly recognizes your accompanying positive characteristics that make dealing with your spontaneous character worthwhile.

Then, coincidently emerging from the door of the locker room is Loki himself, dressed in a dress shirt, tie, and slacks—clothes and color schemes accustomed to the TVA’s dress code. Mobius can practically see the wires in your brain short-circuiting as soon as you lay eyes on the God. Your eye twitches and from that, he knows you’re about to go mayhem. It’s the mayhem that’s going to break out on him like a hurricane devouring everything and anything in its way.

“You hired him?! You hired a Loki?!”

Your voice is loud, startling Mobius and Loki as passersby stare at the commotion you’re causing. You find yourself hunching in response, shoulders sagging as if it’s supposed to help with averting the attention away from you. Still, your expression doesn’t falter, and you’re staring at Mobius like he’s nuts.

Your voice comes off as a whisper, tone still harsher than before. “Mobius, are you insane?—”

“Just, let me explain,” he cuts you off with a raised palm to you. You purse your lips, sparing a glance to Loki who seems amused by the looks of the conversation that’s turning to more of an argument because you’re directly questioning your colleague’s sanity in public. Nevertheless, you decide to hear him out.

You watch Mobius sigh at the sight of your raised brow. “We have a variant. A Loki variant that’s been killing our Minutemen and I believe it’s the same one that threw you to Sakaar. So, to hunt down a Loki, what better way than to source the help of another?”

Silence. You’re giving him that deafening silent treatment once more. You’re thinking, he can see the mechanics in your brain running like a steam engine. He observes the way your eyes flicker between him, the file, and Loki who attempts to hide his confusion of you and the whole situation.

You’re not his superior, not even close, but he’s hopeful for your approval of his plan.

You cross your arms, shifting in your stance. “Which Loki is this?” You gesture to Loki with a tilt of your head. Mobius heaves a sigh, a hand to his hip and the other waving in the air.

“He’s, uh, he’s from 2012—”

And you’re back to causing mayhem.

“2012?! Mobius! That’s the worst one yet!”

“Now, hang on just a minute—” Loki interrupts, voice tinged with bewilderment and resentment but with two sharp looks directed his way, he instantly shuts his mouth.

You and Mobius are now back to your whispered debate.

“Look, as much as I hate to admit it, the TVA’s survival all depends on catching this variant and that means our survival. He has potential for change, so much of it...You just have to trust me on this.”

Mobius makes an excellent point but you can't help but feel the queasiness rising from your stomach. It feels like bile. You begin to feel the weight of the case file in your grasp becoming heavier and heavier. It’s the thought of risky business, and you’re almost upset as to why Mobius thinks it’s such a brilliant idea to pull you into this case after the stunt you pulled.

“Care to explain why I'm involved in this? You do know I’m being scrutinized for every move I make, right?”

Following your question, he glances at Loki who seems to be growing impatient, eyes wandering around the hallway. He leans forward and lowers his voice though his pitch raises, like when he's excited about a breakthrough.

“Because I know you’re capable of getting Loki to trust you. It happened once, there’s a high chance it’ll happen again and that’s good enough for me.” He watches you blink once. Then, twice. He continues, “And you’re being scrutinized by me. So, does it really matter?”

You’re silent again but in deep thought and not out of spite. Your troubled eyes find Loki’s. He’s already staring at you and for a moment, you see an unknown glimmer in his eye, expression nearly vulnerable but in an instant, he seals it away from you and averts his gaze, busying himself with straightening his pecan brown tie. It’s a small sign that he must have heard what Mobius said to you quietly. Nothing more.

Your gaze returns to your colleague and you pull yourself together, heaving a deep sigh. “Fine, but I still think you’re insane.”

Mobius beams down at you in an almost proud manner. “Welcome back, agent.” And with a turn of a heel, he waves for Loki to follow as the three of you head down the hallway. Loki quickly catches up beside you, much to your dismay. “So, what’s your story?” he leans into you with a curious smirk. You keep your face forward, shoulder back, and chin up as you reply with a monotonous tone. “None of your business, daddy long legs.”

In your peripheral vision, you note how the God retracts in response to your reply, brows now furrowed as he glances down to his legs in an almost sheepish and innocent way.

You struggle to fight down a growing smirk.

Mobius looks over his shoulder for a moment and catches sight of you and Loki’s expression after your exchange.

It looks like the two of you would get along just fine.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

[edasnest]

Might you have any Raeda headcanons you'd be willing to share?

Oh shit I didn’t see that you sent this to me until now oh man.

But you better believe I’ve got some Raeda headcanons >:D

[Spoilers for Eda’s Requiem and Knock Knock Knockin on Hooty’s Door! Also a little bit of a character study regarding those eps lol]

Raine is constantly in awe of Eda. Eda’s desire to learn every kind of magic and buck tradition and societal norms sometimes leaves them breathless. When they were young, Raine always admired Eda for the clever pranks she’d pull using different kinds of magic despite being in the potions track. They also admired Eda’s boldness when it came to standing up for herself and her sister.

Eda found Raine to be interesting considering they were in the bard track despite their stage fright, but once Eda watched them perform and saw how they’d lose themself in the music was, no pun intended, magical. They had a fierce grip on Eda’s heart and she didn’t know why; she was fascinated by Raine and made it her goal to be best friends with this oddly shy bard (which she achieved pretty quickly).

After Eda’s curse caused her to unintentionally disable her dad, she was terrified of what it would mean if she was caught off guard like that again. So she started putting up walls. No stressful situations, no hard conversations, no sudden bright lights or loud sounds that she wasn’t the cause of. If she could be in control of her surroundings, she could control the Owl Beast. The elixir she’d discovered that could keep the curse’s side effects at bay helped maintain her sanity and her chill demeanor, but Raine was able to tell she was always slightly on edge. Raine knew about the curse; after Eda had transformed on the Grudgby field the first time everyone had been talking about it, but they didn’t know the extent of it. Everyone just said she’d turned into a monster and then fled; but what kind of monster?? But every time Raine tried to get more information about it, Eda would brush it off and change the subject. It broke their heart watching Eda brush off something that was clearly bothering her, and eventually it all came to a head. She was lying more and more often to Raine and they just couldn’t take it anymore. What happened to their best friend??? Why would she lie to them????? It was maddening and all the frustration and aching in their heart became too much. They needed to focus on something other than Eda. They weren’t nearly as bold as Eda, even after all these years, so they joined the Bard Coven in order to start teaching and building a career for themself. They’d happily welcome Eda back if she’d just tell them what was going on. But it never happened. Burying themself into their work and then, eventually, into the BAtTs helped keep the heartache at bay, but only sometimes.

Eda and Raine caught glimpses of each other as the years passed. They’d spot one another in the market or Raine would see a flash of unmistakable ginger hair dashing around a corner; sometimes they’d hear Eda yelling at some Coven guards and quietly hope she’d make her escape. Eda would occasionally see posters advertising a performance starring Raine; she’d either buy a ticket or sneak in just to listen to them play again. She could never stay for very long though because listening to them play made her heart hurt so much she’d be at risk of turning into the Owl Beast. Raine grabbed one of Eda’s wanted posters and keeps it hidden under some other paperwork in their desk, pulling it out sometimes and going over every detail of the artist’s rendition of her. One day, a new wanted poster came out - this one with a weird skull dog now part of the image and the bounty having increased significantly. Raine would always smirk whenever they saw the new version, although they were alarmed the first time they saw her drawn with all-grey hair. When had that happened? They weren’t that old yet, right??

The day Eda saved the BAtTs and figured out Raine’s secret was maybe the best day Raine had had in years. Their best friend was talking to them again, helping them with their plot. Raine didn’t bother pushing Eda about the last 20 years; their last conversation proved enough that Eda didn’t like it when people pried. But Eda had become not just older, but so much more kind and open. To a degree that sort of shocked Raine. When they asked Eda if she had nothing to lose and Eda took their hand, it was like they’d gone back in time. As if they were both 20 again and daydreaming about a world they’d create for themselves where covens weren’t there to shackle witches down and stage fright didn’t exist; where Eda’s curse never happened and they could stay there on that hill forever.

Eda of course was warring with her own emotions during all of this; she was under the impression that everyone in her life was leaving her again. And not because she was pushing them away this time, but of their own volition. She got her big sister back only for her to go back home to their parents after just a few weeks. She overheard King talk about leaving to find his dad and her apprentice - the first person to ever break down all of Eda’s defenses and show her how to love again - was constantly working on ways to go back to her own home. Eda would be left with Hooty and Owlbert and absolutely nobody else and that hurt so much more than she cared to admit. So when Raine showed up in the town square with their BAtT mask on, using their magic to turn some coven guards into bumbling fools, Eda was a little shell-shocked. The first person to leave her of their own volition was right there in front of her and needed help. So she helped them. And when she became invested in their plots to free wild witches, she felt like she was a teenager again, plotting out pranks with Raine in her secret shortcuts room at Hexside, blushing at every interaction they had because even after all this time, Raine was still Raine. Her Rainstorm. It was like she was starting over, like the last 20 years had faded away, except they hadn’t. Because Luz and King were competing in a race that she needed to be there for. Her past and her present were all different types of painful but finding Raine like this again gave her so much hope! Until she realized she wouldn’t see the end of that race, not if it meant stopping Belos. And she was ready for that, ready for the pain to just stop already, but Raine wouldn’t let her.

Losing Raine again was so much worse the second time. But what they said stayed with her and Eda needed to get back to King and Luz. So when she got back and discovered they’d lost, of course her first thought was to help them. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d just lost. And when King announced that he wasn’t leaving at all, he was legally changing his name? She was “stuck” with him forever? That was too much and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone wasn’t leaving her. In fact he was legally binding himself to her. No one was leaving, at least not any time soon. Eda definitely still cried more that night after King and Luz had gone to bed.

In the future, Eda and Raine agree to start from scratch: Eda explains the curse to them in detail, all the things she’s learned about it over the years and specifically with Luz and King and Hooty’s help. She explains that Lilith was the one that gave it to her to begin with and why (Raine is appalled like???? Raine specifically worked with Lilith in that last year before they had been made head of the Bard Coven?? And Lilith showed maybe irritation at best at the mention of Eda, so like?? What the fuck???). Eda also explains how she’s come to accept the curse as something that’s part of her and the history the Owl Beast has that she got a glimpse of which is super intriguing to Raine. Also Harpy Eda was a thing which was maybe the most surprising part of it all.

Raine in the meantime tells Eda about their time working their way up the ranks of the Bard Coven, how they met each of the BAtTs and recruited them, the façade they had to maintain to stay on track to become the head of the Bard Coven (something that greatly impressed Eda given Raine’s history with being an awkward actor).

Eda introduces Raine to Luz and King to which both of them start shooting rapidfire questions at them and overwhelm them pretty quickly. Eda has to shoo the two away before Raine just bursts out laughing, saying something about how they’re definitely Eda’s kids (all of them blush while Raine is laughing). Luz is just as fascinated with Raine’s Bard magic as Eda was when they first met and the similarities between the two are striking. Raine tells Eda as much later on and Eda begins gushing about what a great apprentice Luz is and everything she’s done during her time on the Boiling Isles.

They fall easily back into dating once they reconnect properly and everything’s calmed down a little - Raine will still be humming a piece they’re working on and suddenly grab Eda and begin dancing to the tune, Eda laughing the whole time and making their heart soar. Eda will still play with Raine’s earring when they’re cuddled up together just chatting. Raine will start asking Eda again for her opinion on musical pieces they’re working on and Eda will make suggestions along with some jokes or snide commentary. They both still love watching the clouds overhead on their hill, sometimes playing music, sometimes just holding hands.

Raine loves watching Eda interact with Luz and King. They love watching how easily Eda loves them and how much she’s changed since they first broke up. Once they’re alone together, in a moment total admiration for how far they’ve come, Raine tells Eda they love her. Eda immediately kisses them and starts crying, repeating Raine’s words back to them and mumbling about how she’ll never let Raine leave ever again.

A canon Non-binary love interest to a main character that uses They/Them pronouns??? In my kids cartoon???? It’s more likely than you think.

Anyways I fucking love Raine and I love how much Eda and Raine love each other and I can’t wait to see what ends up happening with Them™️