#also the way house tries to hold on to her for dear life and crawls over to her fuckkkkk

[fullmetal-angelgrace]

holy fuck, the end of the first part of the season 4 finale was SO GOOD

the whole bus sequence with house slowly remembering it was amber GAVE ME CHILLS

"what's my necklace made of?"

FUCK

[dang-itshauntedinhere]

I Don't Love You, But I Always Will - Chapter 3

Summary:            

I watched The Exorcist with a friend and spent the entire time staring at Father Karras, so of course we crafted an elaborate story surrounding his and reader's life together. Falling in love with a Jesuit priest and watching his faith fall apart in front of you is not problematic at all actually, and your life in this story will proceed in abject simplicity. (Lies, slander) Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (You are here) - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Find also on my Ao3

Divider by @racingairplanes

Word Count: 11k

When your life takes an unexpected turn, your world comes crashing down around you - so you find your way home.

TW: Emotional abuse, Miscarriage

Explaining it had been simple, and you’d asked Claire for a reason: you knew she could keep a secret. When she stopped by the house that afternoon to drop it off, she’d been smiling ear to ear - you tried your best to copy her excitement. She handed you the bag, the items concealed thoughtfully under a bag of brown sugar. 

“Thank you so much Claire, I really owe you one,” you said groggily, taking the bag from her outstretched hand. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” You hoped she would accept, you’d been brewing coffee all morning. The smell helped your nausea, but the pots on the stove boiling would seem excessive if you didn’t get rid of some of it. 

“No, no - I’d really love to, but I’ve got to get home, I’ve got ice cream in the car.” She said with a look of disappointment. “How are you feeling though, dear? Do you need anything else?” You shook your head with a smile.

“I’ll be alright,” you said. “I’ll call you.” She nodded, beaming with the joy of holding your secret. “I really don’t know anything yet - not a word, Claire.” She made a motion like she was zipping her mouth shut and turned to walk away, nearly bouncing with every step. 

You started toward the house, clutching the bag against your abdomen, anxiety and nausea rippling through you in cold waves. You listened as her tires crackled against the driveway.

“Oh Y/n?” She shouted from her window, and you looked at her, panicked at her shouting. Please don’t say anything obvious, you prayed, smiling across the lawn at her. “Ginger helps honey - ginger tea!” You nodded, waving as she rolled away. 

Finally in the safety of your home, you leaned against the door, relieved. You’d been sleeping most of the day - throwing up when you had the energy to be up. It had started a couple of days ago - you thought nothing of it at first, assuming it to be flu and moving on with your day. When it seemed to linger, however, you started to get nervous. Something was different. 

You pushed yourself from the door, dizzy for a moment before you could make your way to the kitchen. You set the bag on the counter and reached up to a cabinet. Ginger, huh? You opened the cabinet to search, pushing your way through boxes of tea. When you couldn’t find anything, you settled for peppermint. Mint is supposed to settle your stomach, right? 

You set the kettle on the stove, lifting the nearly empty pots of boiling coffee from the stove, holding your face over the steam for a moment before dumping them into the sink. With a moment of hesitation, you reached into the bag and retrieved two rectangular boxes, turning one over in your hand. With a sigh, you sank to the floor. You read the instructions for the pregnancy test, listening to the kettle rumble quietly behind you. Seems simple enough.

You stayed down there for a while, savoring the cool floor against your bare legs and closing your eyes. I’m sure most women are scared when it happens, you thought. The kettle started to whistle behind you. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound and hoped that it would drown everything out.

—

After wandering the house nervously for the first hour of the test, the nausea creeped back in - enough to drive you back to bed. You crawled under the covers, propping yourself against the headboard. You reached for the book on your side table, opening it to a worn page. Damien had mailed it to you a few weeks ago.

You’d already read through it - in fact it had been a gift to Damien, one where you left notes in the margins in blue ink. You’d been a little surprised when it arrived, but upon opening it, you found the margins were no longer just yours. Your questions and prompts were accompanied now by notes in black, and sometimes pencil, responding. You loved it. It was like a long-distance conversation that you could start at any time. 

The book was a relatively thin paperback copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God, a story that had astounded and captivated you. You weren’t sure how much Damien would enjoy it when you gave it to him - maybe that’s why he found parting with it so easy, you thought with a smile and an eye roll. 

Reading it again however, you found that the notes in the margins increased from a few scattered underlines and responses in the beginning chapters to sentences squeezed between lines, paragraphs wrapping around corners, cluttering any open space. All things considered, the book was nearly illegible in its last pages, but you found you were most excited to reach them. 

Continuing where you had left off, you reached the scene where Logan demands Janie work on the farm along with her work in the house. You’d enjoyed the painful comparison of her role to that of his mule: 

At least a mule can’t resent her place in the world. What an ass.

Haha

Interesting how such a cruel man has such little regard for gender roles. Or more regard?

More. He seems to enjoy the benefits of manhood enough. Perhaps all women are simply doomed

I wonder why a 15-year-old has such limited knowledge of keeping a home? :0

You mean women aren't genetically destined for the kitchen? Someone should have said something

Breaks my heart

Funny how it doesn't break his

An arrow pointed here with the message: Obviously not funny

You breathed a laugh. 

As the book continued, some of the messages were original, crowding around chapter numbers for room. 

I believe she is lucky he is not initially good to her. It might be harder to leave - I consider now that to love is to be held hostage - Too preachy?

I wish I could say men of the church were above all of this, but unfortunately it demands a separation of faith from institution -

The church does not speak on its past in the owning of people - one has to wonder 

Kidney failure: now that is an act of God I can appreciate

The shrill ring of the egg timer echoed in the master bathroom, and you swung your legs over the side of the bed, rushing to stop the noise. You snatched it from the vanity, intentionally keeping your eyes from the tests that were ready on the other side. You set the timer down shakily, and picked one up. 

A dark ring appeared around the bottom of the small tube. You swallowed thickly. You reached for the next one. Another positive. The room seemed to lurch as you sunk to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest and holding yourself together as your world fell apart.

You’d told Claire that you weren’t sure, but that if it ended up being positive, you wanted to surprise Chris with the news, so you figured that bought you some time. Besides, you could wait to call her - maybe even tell her they were negative - these were a pretty new invention, after all. 

But you couldn’t fight the panic that set in with reason for long. Your thoughts ran out of control at the thought of having a baby. Of course you’d considered the possibility, it always felt like something that was on the horizon - but that had always been something for later. I guess it’s later now. Your head felt heavy and your throat constricted. What am I going to do? 

You took deep breaths and tried to stay calm. I’m married - this isn’t some crime of passion, it’s what married women are supposed to do. This is what I’m supposed to do. The panic cooled as you pulled together thoughts of your friends with children, thoughts of your students, all the times you’d watched the children during mass - children were wonderful. Of course, children were difficult, dirty, and life-consuming, but they were wonderful. I can work with wonderful, you thought.

A sweet numbness, not quite joy, but not panic either, settled over you. Raising from the floor, you busied yourself with disposing of the evidence, grateful that this bathroom was “yours,” and that Chris used the one down the hall. You would tell Jo at dinner next week, she would know what to do next. Until then, you would convince yourself of the idea. 

A pang of guilt resonated in your mind - Why not tell Chris? He’s my husband, he should be the first to know. You knew already that you couldn’t tell him. Something held you back, and prodding at the feeling sent a shock of fear through you. Not yet. I’ll tell him eventually, you reasoned, pushing the feeling away. Just… not yet.

You wandered back to bed, enjoying a quiet breeze through the open window and sighing in the heat of the afternoon. You sat there for a moment, letting your thoughts go blank. You opened the book again.

He hurts her if she stays, someone new hurts her if she leaves. What would you tell her? 

I submit to the idea that everything happens for a reason - but I think “God’s plan” is often misunderstood. I think God obliges us to the ones we love. This is not love.

—

You were grateful the Martins had agreed to have dinner at your house tonight, it gave you a chance to choose a menu you could stomach. That meant chicken and dumplings. Your recipe was good enough and the heat had subdued with the evening- no one had noticed. It was just as likely no one had questioned your choice at all, despite its simplicity for a family meal. Were you being paranoid? Maybe.

Keeping the secret was surprisingly easy, but nerve-wracking. You wished it wasn’t summer break - going back to work might have helped, but thinking of your students now… also made the secret harder to keep. It had only been about a week since the positive tests. It just didn't feel real yet. It may have been the denial fading, then, that made your heart race as you thought about this recipe. Your mother would make this for you when you were sick. The wave of warmth and nostalgia washed over you as you made quiet conversation. Maybe being a mother wouldn’t be so bad.

Your mind drifted through possible names, through halloween costumes, through swim lessons and birthday parties and singing, through childrens’ books and screaming laughs and splashing in puddles. You thought about all the pictures you’d take, the height marks against the wall, the bright eyes. 

This feeling always left you awash with joy - I guess this is what people are talking about when they say someone’s *glowing.* Lost in thought, you tried to hold on to the feeling, chasing memories you had yet to make.

“Dear?” You felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at Jo, who looked at you with concerned eyes. You shook your head slightly as the feeling flitted away. 

“Sorry, lost in thought,” you said with a smile. Your heart sank slightly as you looked around, suddenly aware. “I’m sorry, did anyone need anything? Oh the jell-o!” You rose slowly at first, then all at once struck by the memory of the orange jell-o setting in the fridge - hopefully not frozen.

You hurried to the fridge, pulling out the mold and slowly turning it onto a plate. The orange surface was maybe a little too stiff, but glassy and cool nonetheless. You sighed with relief. 

“It’s alright,” you called to the dining room, carrying the platter shakily to the table. Chris watched from the table, with a puzzled look on his face. 

“Sorry about that,” you said with a laugh.

“Seems like you’ve been lost in thought a lot lately,” He put a hand on your arm. “What’s going on with you?” You stood there for a moment, face hot in the spotlight. A chill prickled over your skin and you swallowed thickly. You hated being put on the spot, and this was not the time. 

“It’s just that flu lingering.” You smiled and patted his hand. “I always seem to get sick in the summer - good thing work was keeping you out of the house, you might’ve caught it.” You deflected the question, starting to gather empty plates. 

You caught Chris’ expression in the corner of your eye. He seems convinced. Jo joined you in clearing the plates as your husband delved into the gelatin. Retreating to the kitchen with the plates, you wondered if you imagined the sigh you shared, the facade falling. Something about holding a smile like that… It felt like speaking to a particularly anxious student - like trying to get ahead of something. You looked at Jo in the moment you shared in the kitchen, her face blank, eyes tired. What must it be like, staying ahead of him? You returned to the dining room, resolved to keep your joy buried a little deeper.

“-is a pretty broad topic, so there’s a lot to consider. Feels like each time I’m close to completing it, something happens that proves my point just a little bit more, and then I just have to add it.” Chris spoke with serious excitement about his book. You were pretty sure you could pass a philosophy exam with all he’d told you at this point - and that look he would get in his eye, that furrowed brow, that deep patience for questions and discussion - you always thought he was at his best when he was talking about his work. 

“I think it’ll make some waves with the current political climate, I’ve just got to finish it in this lifetime.” He smiled. “Actually, the women’s movement is my current inspiration.”

“Oh?” You asked, genuinely intrigued. Chris had never been one to spend much time outside of his own head, maybe this was a sign of change? He straightened, his eyes bright with the thrill of an audience. 

“Make your speech,” You prompted, scooting forward and shooting him a curious smile. 

“Well, women’s issues and inequalities have been the subject of philosophical debate since men learned to think,” He smiled a little at that. “And what we’re seeing as the women’s movement is a product of everything that has been thought of, decided, and enacted upon women for years. But I would argue that what we perceive as an independent movement of collective thought is rather the work of fate.”

“I think, then, if we work backwards from this conclusion, we find that all of the things these women are protesting, and saying ‘should never have happened,’ were always going to happen. And, that whatever outcome is reached from the movement, if change occurs at all, will have been destined to happen as well,” He continued, gesturing following his words in clear movements. You looked at him with a degree of confusion, nodding for him to go on.

“So, I don’t think we can blame them for questioning it all, but I also think that if change occurs, will it be anything more than the re-packaging of every other social movement that has ever occurred? And to that extent, will it prove to actually change anything? Women are biologically destined for certain events in their lives - and collectively, until now, have never objected to that.” He said it as if it was a fact, but you suddenly found him very opinionated, and a little cold-blooded to reduce the movement to a personal marketing decision, and a futile one at that. Your skin crawled. 

“If we see change, it will have been the product of everything women have never objected to before - think childcare, marriage, preparation of food - ” He looked at his father expectantly. 

“Do we see women, on a mass scale, demanding to be put on the front lines?” he replied, amused.

“Socially, I'd argue that it was always going to happen, but biologically, it was never meant to be. Simple as that. We’ll have to see where it goes, but it’s just another layer of a repeating pattern, and choosing a side is pointless. The pattern was decided on a long time ago - all we can ever do is catch up to it.” He seemed satisfied with that, smiling as he returned to his dessert. Your face flushed with rage, and you watched as your parents-in-law nodded along, understanding. Even Jo seemed convinced. The conversation continued, muffled by a ringing in your ears. Your stomach turned and the room swam around you, like the air above a car on a hot summer day. 

“Excuse me,” you blurted quietly, pushing yourself away from the table and forcing yourself to walk, rather than run to the bathroom. You shut the door with careful silence, breathing ragged breaths through clenched teeth as you crumpled onto the floor. You backed away from the door, your back finding the cool side of the bathtub, mind reeling with a crashing realization. Cold tears dripped silently from your chin.

The feeling at the back of your mind revealed itself in all its snarling glory, the same one that had you hesitating with the thought of having this baby. If I have a daughter, she will grow up to be just like me. Your breaths were tight and fast. He’ll teach her to be a slave to responsibility, to be perfect and quiet, to marry a man who takes everything from her. You pressed a cold hand to your mouth, quieting your broken breaths. If I have a son, he’ll be just like him. He will take him far, far away from me and everything I can teach him. Whoever you are, you are doomed.

All at once, you could see what it had all done to you. Your mind was silent as you rose, slowly turning to the mirror, looking at a person you didn’t recognize. Clothes you didn’t own, hair longer and straighter than yours, dull eyes full of tears and surrounded in dark rings. I am doomed.

—

Big TW for miscarriage here, regulate your reading and proceed with caution.

—

You faced into the fan perched next to your window, relishing in the cool breeze on your brow. The school didn’t have air conditioning, and your room was on the second floor, so the heat was overbearing. The tinny clatter of the highest setting filled the room, white noise you welcomed, drowning out your thoughts. You sighed. It had been two weeks since your realization in the bathroom. Home hadn’t felt right since - you were grateful for the upcoming school year, you could bury yourself in work in the classroom, refusing to think about anything other than ordering finger paints and writing lesson plans.

There were a few other teachers here relatively early, and you had the occasional quick conversation with them as they passed your open door. You wonder if anyone could tell.

You were sorting through slides of animals and places, holding them up to the sun through the blinds and labeling them, when you felt it. Your back slowly tensed, a deep ache spreading through your abdomen. The pain wasn’t so bad, but it made you stop for a moment, and breathe slowly through your nose. The pain subsided. 

You pressed a hand to your back and straightened. This chair is finally catching up to me, you thought. You decided to move to the lounge - where the couches are. You smiled at the thought - and where the ac unit is. You collected the slides, a few piles of work, and your keys, feeling the ache seep in again. You gritted your teeth and left for the lounge, walking slowly. 

Entering the lounge, you sighed in the cool air. Two other women had the same idea, Mrs. Farrow and Claire sat at the round table in the middle of the room, chatting over their work, papers strewn between them. 

“Mind if I join you?” You asked with a smile, unloading your pile on a side table next to a sinking orange couch. You collapsed carefully into the deep cushions, the springs creaking under your weight. “It’s got to be almost 100 degrees up there.” They laughed with you, and you marveled at how Mrs. Farrow’s salt and pepper hair somehow managed to keep its height in the heat, thinking of your own frizzy bun. 

“Dehlia, you’ve got to tell me how you keep your hair looking that good,” you said. She chuckled.

“Honey, I’ve been up on the second floor a lot longer than you have,” she said with a smile. “What took you so long? We’ve been down here for hours.” 

“I have no idea,” you said, leaning your head back onto the arm of the chair, swinging your legs across the couch. “Ah-” You gasped at this new wave, the pain gripping around to your entire abdomen, stealing your breath away. You shut your eyes hard, mouth open in a silent wail. It felt like it held on like that for minutes before it finally let go. You breathed a shaky gasp, static filling your mind as you tried to catch your breath. Panic was starting to set in as the color drained from the room. With a jolt, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder.

“Honey, are you okay?” Claire’s voice ebbed in, ringing. You wanted to nod, to look over and tell her you were fine, that it was just your back hurting, but you were frozen, waiting for the pain to return. Your thoughts were spinning out of control - you barely heard her next words. “Y/n look at me, what’s going on?”

Mrs. Farrow’s face joined Claire’s now, and you pushed out a response.

“M’ okay, just need the bathroom-” You swung your legs over gingerly. I just need to be alone, you thought, trying to put thoughts to words and failing embarrassingly, only stammering. Claire crouched in front of you, hands on your shoulders, keeping you down. Mrs. Farrow pressed a cool hand to your forehead.

“I think you need to lay down,” she said. “You have no color at all!” You shook your head, bracing yourself before standing shakily, the two women moving to support you. They helped drag you to the small attached bathroom while you tried to say something. 

You sunk to the floor, Claire holding your hand as Mrs. Farrow looked down at you, a hand over her mouth. 

“Call Christian, Dehlia, she needs to go to a hospital,” Claire said. Mrs. Farrow nodded, turning to leave the small room, but you reached out, catching the edge of her skirt and holding on as tightly as you could, awake enough now to a single thought, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NONONO-

“No!” you croaked, looking up at her, pleading with every fiber of your being. “No, no, no, he can’t know-” you stopped with a strangled yelp, the pain flooding back around you. All you could do was curl up on the floor, holding your breath and sweating against the dirty green tile. 

You heard her leave the room in a rush, and panic buzzed through you, static filling your ears - I can’t - she can’t- 

You blacked out.

—

You weren’t sure how long those two women stayed with you - hours? All night? You breathed slowly and sipped metallic tap water from a mug, shivering, but conscious. You felt empty with exhaustion. 

Mrs. Farrow leaned against the door frame - the lounge was dark behind her, the yellow glow of a light overhead projecting a halo over her. You almost smiled at the image. You’d gotten to know these women well in the last few hours. She knew what you were going through - the cool dark of her eyes were profoundly sad behind the brave face she wore. She assured you it wasn’t your fault, that sometimes these things happen, but she didn’t tell you to smile. She didn’t tell you to feel better. She didn’t tell you not to cry. 

Claire had been by your side the whole time - your life line. She held onto you and coached you through the worst cramps. She held your hair away from your face when you vomited, listened to your stammering, and distracted you by telling you all about the play she had been to see a few weeks ago - Applause with Lauren Bacall. 

You had all aged a millennia tonight - their eyes were deep and bloodshot, hair frizzy, clothes rumpled and jackets ruined. You almost laughed at the thought of how you probably looked. How can I ever repay them?

You were feeling relatively well for everything that had happened, but the shaky, cold feeling still worried you. You knew you had to go to the hospital - but the idea of leaving the small green bathroom, of leaving Claire and Mrs. Farrow, of telling a doctor everything that had happened, of them seeing- You couldn’t do it. 

“Is-” Claire hesitated to ask you, looking askance before meeting your hollow stare, resolute. “Dear, is there someone we can call?” You looked away and swallowed. You knew you should call Chris. You also knew you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Maybe…

“You need to go to a doctor, honey.” Mrs. Farrow’s tired voice joined Claire’s pleading look. You nodded slowly.

“Yes,” You said, voice quiet. You had someone you could call.

—

The sun was rising by the time you left the hospital. You were lucky - it was a complete miscarriage, and the doctor let you go with some light pain medicine. Part of you was nervous about some kind of complication, and the pain still radiated through you, but you were grateful to get out of the hospital so quickly. 

Jo helped you into the car carefully, her tidy beige coat draped over your slumped shoulders. She’d been at the school in mere moments - eyes glassy. She only asked a few questions - Claire and Mrs. Farrow helped you answer as you stood slowly. You thought you’d cried every tear in your body - but falling into her tight embrace had you sobbing silently again. She said she was glad you called her. Told you you were so brave. 

You didn’t need to tell her to lie to the doctor when you shuffled into the hospital at around 2am - she drove a little ways out of the city to the next closest emergency room and signed you in as her daughter, explaining that her son-in-law was out of town, and had been informed. You stared ahead blankly through swollen eyes. 

Now, as she drove you home through the rising sun, she asked you if you wanted to go home. 

The question struck you dumb - and remembering your husband lit a violent strike through you. Yes, you begged internally. I want to go home. Away from here. Back to the city. Back to my small apartment, back to my parents, back to smoke and shade and noise and painting and safety. I want to go home. Please. 

“Yes,” you answered. The thought of being in that big, hot house all alone scared you though, and in your streak of relying on her, you asked one more favor. “Jo, I know I’ve asked you for a lot tonight- but…” She looked over at you, expectant. “Could you- would you stay with me? Just for a little while?”

She looked ahead at the road and smiled.

“Of course.” She sniffed. You sighed. 

“Thank you.” You said. 

—

Jo hadn't lied on one account: Chris really was out of town, as he so often was in the summer. Conferences, research, and binge-writing sessions kept him out of the house often. Sometimes he worked from his office, the shrill clunking of the typewriter resonating through the house into the early hours. You were grateful this was not one of those times. 

When you crawled into bed that morning, you wanted to sleep forever. Just… close your eyes and slip away. All you knew was that you didn’t want to do what you had to do next. Your thoughts blurred as you sank into a deep sleep, only barely registering that Jo had crept through to close the blinds. 

When you awoke, sweat clung to you in an oppressive sheen, your sheets sticky. You laid there for a while, thoughts swimming in the heat. You could hear Jo on the phone downstairs, the tall ceilings and ajar door carrying a few words to you. She was talking to Dr. Martin. Telling him you were sick - the flu had come back worse, and you needed to be alone. She was taking care of it. She’d be home later to fix his dinner. 

You pushed yourself away from the cling of the sheets and swung your legs over the side of the bed slowly. The pain had faded now to nothing more than a dull throb, and your hands had stopped their shaking. You looked at the clock on the wall - 6:23pm. 

Jo had placed your medicine next to your bed with a glass of water, the outside dewy in the humid air. You gulped a couple of pills down and finished the glass, gasping. Combing your hands through your hair, you found it tangled and dirty. You stayed like that for a few moments, head in your hands, stealing a moment to enjoy the lack of pain before it washed over you again every few moments.

When Jo walked in with a tray, you looked up, blinking through swollen eyes. 

“You’re awake,” she said with some shock, setting the tray down at the end of the bed and pressing the back of her hand to your temple. “You look a lot better.” You breathed a small smile. 

“Do you think you convinced him? Was he too upset?” you asked suddenly, previously unspoken words now spoken. Something about the last several hours had your mind feeling clear, and frankly, a little blunt. She hesitated for only a moment - you could almost hear the wall come down between you as she sat down on the bed next to you. 

“No… he believed me easily enough,” she answered, quietly. You sat there in silence for a minute. “He- he’s a good man-”

“Jo,” you squeezed her hand. She looked down. 

“It’s my life dear,” she said with a sad smile, sniffing. “He’s my husband. I love him.” You nodded as she turned for the tray by her side, handing you a warm mug of savory-smelling soup. You breathed the salty steam for a moment, your nose running and head loosening a bit with the heat. 

“Oh thank you,” you said, smiling at her over the edge as you took a sip. She watched you, expression lightening. “I think this is the best soup I’ve ever had in my life.”

You stayed like that for a while, making easy conversation and drinking beef and barley soup from a mug, ignoring everything that hurt.

—

You didn’t leave the house for a few days. Jo visited you a few times a day, bringing you meals and passing a few hours by reading, or mindlessly watching television. You couldn’t hold up a conversation very well. Claire and Mrs. Farrow visited once too. They brought you cookies, but you didn’t feel like eating.

You enjoyed the company while it lasted, but it was only a matter of time before they were gone again, a sad look and a gentle touch lingering as they left. The rest of the time you spent in bed, all the shades drawn and a fan pointed in from the window. 

Sometimes you would wander the house, stopping to clean a surface mindlessly until your hands were raw and red. Sometimes you would just… lay on the floor, trying to quiet your mind. Nothing seemed to work. 

Biologically, it was never meant to be. Simple as that. Simple as that, simple as that, simple as that, his words rang in your mind. You felt… hollow. Empty. You didn’t even feel like crying anymore. You didn’t know what to do. It was easier to just sleep.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, you found yourself on the floor of your room, sweating through your clothes. You weren’t sure what time it was - what day is it? Pushing yourself up slowly, you blinked in a stripe of pale sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. 

Rising slowly to your feet, you crept to your unmade bed in the dark and sat on the edge. Biologically it was never meant to be. Simple as that. You looked down at the table. Down at the clock that read 6:31pm. Down at the book you started- before it all. Turning on the bedside lamp with a wince, you opened the worn book to the marked page. 

He hurts her if she stays, someone new hurts her if she leaves. What would you tell her? 

I submit to the idea that everything happens for a reason - but I think “God’s plan” is often misunderstood. I think God obliges us to the ones we love. This is not love.

You looked up from the page - this is not love. And just like that, you decided. It was time to leave. You’d go home. You let your head fall back with a sigh, a few cool tears falling silently. Resolute, you rolled your shoulders around stiffly, cracking your back and taking a quick breath. With your mission clear in mind, you rose to your feet - a bright, flaring will fueling your every move. I have so much work to do, you thought.

With that, you carried yourself to the shower, turning the hot water on before walking back to the bedroom to make the bed. With each step, you told yourself you were a terrible wife. A terrible daughter. A terrible friend. Deceiving, distrustful, guarded, cowardly - a grieving, overreacting mess of a woman. 

As you scrubbed your skin in the scalding water, the thoughts faded to the low, desperate blaze of your fury. You unburied every memory of his condescending speeches, his raised voice, his candy-sweet, biting comments, his lingering, empty touches, his excuses - your fear, your complacency, your blindness - I’ve wasted so much time. 

The cool tile felt like ice through the rolling steam as you stepped out. The relief of your decision had settled easily over you - but each moment you stayed in the house was worse than the last, like realizing you were drowning at the bottom of the ocean, clawing through miles of black, praying that it wasn’t too late. 

Every movement was frantic. The house contorted neatly to its pristine coldness, your two-week notice lay neatly folded in a stark white envelope on the desk, and deep, golden light fell over the house by the late evening. Like you were never there. 

You hadn’t known how to start a letter to Chris - what could you say? You stared at the paper for a long time, lost for words. Everything with him had always been so easy for you before - you always knew what to do, what to say. You’d gladly siphoned away your life and your personhood to him, it just felt like what you were supposed to do. Now - tearing away - you didn’t know where to start.

Cold fear swept in around you then - what will he do when he finds out?

You scribbled out a few weak sentences - I’m going home for a while… Not sure when I’ll be back… I’ll call…I’ll write… You figured that you would at some point, and until then, he would survive. He’s a smart man - he’ll be alright. You couldn’t bear to think about him for another moment - his furrowed brow as he’d read your note, his confusion, his heartbreak. So you folded the note into a peak, and set it squarely on the desk. I refuse to spend another moment on his heart. He never could spare a moment for mine. 

With that, fiery urgency filled you once more, the dark sky like a ticking clock, reminding you he would be back in the morning. You packed in silence, working single-mindedly by the dim light of the lamp. You took only what you needed- only what was beloved. 

Your favorite clothes, most of which were old and dusty at the back of your closet, pushed there years ago. Some money you'd tucked away in a cigar box, your jewelry, some hygiene essentials. The silence of the house echoed, and you worked faster. Important papers, another pair of shoes, drawings and notes from your students. You made sure to bring the book, nestling it among Damien’s letters. Pictures of your family. Scribbled phone numbers and addresses on the back of an empty envelope. A few recipe cards of your mother's. Your two bags were almost full. It was like a bad dream - this is all I have. 

“Y/n?” A small voice called from the dark of the hallway, freezing you in place. Your blood was icy cold as you stared like a deer in headlights, watching with bated breath as Jo stepped into the room, wide-eyed. You didn’t hear her come in. 

She’s here to stop me. She’ll tell Chris, she’ll tell everybody- 

“Please,” was all you managed to say. A tear fell from her eye, a deep frown clear on her face. “I’m sorry-” you choked. I can’t leave her with them, you realized. She’d be all alone. This was the worst doubt you’d felt in hours - you’d stay if it meant she’d be safe. You’d stay if it meant she’d have someone. You’d stay if she asked you to. 

But she didn’t. She let out a shaky sigh and began to help you pack. The relief, the gratitude, the guilt washed over you as you followed suit, tears flooding your vision. 

“You don’t have much time,” she said as she zipped your suitcase closed. You looked up. “The latest bus leaves in an hour. From there you can catch the midnight train out of state.” 

“What-” You sniffed, astounded. “How did you know?”

“I look at the bus schedule every day.” She smiled. “I think about leaving here - every day. Every day.” She shook her head with a broken laugh, smearing a tear away with the back of her hand. You noticed the red bruise forming underneath, barely noticeable under her thick makeup. You were at her side in a moment, gathering her in your arms and sinking to the floor. She shook with quiet, laughing sobs, clinging to you for dear life. 

“Come with me,” You asked, looking bleary-eyed over her. “Please, Jo. You can get out. You can stay with me. You can be free. Please.”  You knew what she would say. She stayed like that for a moment, face buried in your shoulder, not saying a word. Then she drew away from you, smiling with her hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes. You thought it was the saddest thing you’d ever seen. She sighed heavily.

“I’m too old, and too old-fashioned, dear.” She said, slipping back into her familiar resignation. “He can’t go without me- and I can’t go without him.” She sniffed.

“I won’t leave you-” you started to protest.

“You have to. Or you’ll never do it,” she said, gripping you and looking into your eyes with determination. “It’s time.” She smiled again - this one was real. Her face was bright in the deep shadows of the room as she stood. You nodded. 

—

Jo drove you to the bus station in the dark, and you spent the time in terrified silence, watching the red taillights float along outside the window. It had been years since you were alone - what will I do? Where will I go? 

You thought of all of your friends here, the other teachers, the other wives. You thought of Mrs. Farrow and Claire - you thought of Jo. You’d never been alone here, they’d made sure of that. So you thought of your friends who were still in the city, the people who had gotten you through the long nights at school, who had helped you move into your first apartment, who had been there at your wedding. 

You thought of Damien and his mother. No, I can’t - they’ve already done so much for me. You thought about the letters stacked in your suitcase. You knew they would help you, he wouldn’t think twice about it. But you knew his mother was - well, to put it lightly, not doing well. You refused to be a burden to them. I can find something. But… the thought of seeing Damien again was comforting. He was your best friend, and though you felt abysmally guilty for it, you were a little excited. 

You thought of your parents. Of course I could go home - god, I’d love to go home, you thought. Christmas two years ago had been wonderful - everything felt right in that moment, however short it had been. Your parents are retired now, though, and your father spends most of his time taking care of your mother, who had started going blind a few years ago. Regardless, they were in good spirits when you saw them, though you remembered their silence as you told them about Chris and his work - as you told them about the party. They’d been insinuating that they wanted you to come live at home in their letters since. 

But they were on a slim fixed income now. And worse, I hate to even imagine - Chris knew where they lived. If he did come looking for you, he’d look there first. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. You needed somewhere to hide for a few months - somewhere you could restart, where you could heal. 

You thought of Sharon. You hadn’t written to her for a few months now, but from what you remembered, she was living in Georgetown, working as a personal secretary and tutor for a rich Hollywood family living there. She had a boyfriend - but he was in California. She didn’t know anything about what had happened in the last few weeks - and she hated living alone. So, you elected to call Sharon on the first phone you found in the morning. I still don’t like the idea of relying on her until I can find a job, but… I can’t do this alone. 

Having a plan, however uncertain, helped you steady yourself as you stepped out of the car next to the station, hot exhaust collecting in the street as the bus idled in the cool night air. You rushed to load your luggage - the bus would only stay another few minutes.

Reality sunk in fast as you approached the open door, Jo pressing a worn ticket into your hand. Her ticket. You hugged her one more time. Your heart beat fast as your chest grew tight.

“I’ll write-” you said over the engine. “If you ever need me, if you decide to go - I’ll come get you, just say the word- promise you’ll tell me?” She was quiet.

“Promise me!” You looked at her eyes. She looked away for a moment and nodded. 

“Okay.” She took your hands in hers. “Take care of yourself. Please.” She smiled at you. 

“I will.” You stepped back. “I love you. God I don’t know how I can ever thank you-”

“Don’t look back.” She said, holding your gaze, resolute. “I’ll look for your letter - even if you don’t write your name on it, I’ll find it.” You nodded as the brakes hissed - you had to go now. With one last look, you kissed her cheek and rushed to board the bus, avoiding the bloodshot eyes peering over their seats at you, waiting for you to sit down. You found a seat far in the back, and the bus lurched as it began to speed away. You watched her headlights get smaller and smaller as you moved, until they were nothing but pinpricks in the dark. And then you were gone. 

— 

The day was overcast, and a thick fog blanketed the track as Damien ran. With each step, new pavement revealed itself through the mist. Good for losing track of time, he thought. Days like this, he’d run until he couldn’t anymore, and as his steps grew shaky and his breaths stung in the cold air, he decided this lap would be his last. 

Rounding the last corner, he ran a little faster as the steely shine of the bleachers appeared through the fog, along with the distinct form of a person sitting at the far end, watching him. As he got closer, he could make out the soft brown of her long coat and the color of the scarf wrapped casually over her hair. He slowed to a stop with a huff as she stepped down from the bleachers, two paper take away coffee cups in hand. 

It had been about a month since he’d started seeing her in Georgetown again. At first he thought he’d been seeing things - her face among a crowd, a flash of her distinct hair color on the floor of Carol’s station at the salon when he visited, her laugh floating over a sea of voices while he waited in line. Of course he’d always brushed it off - it seemed to be in his nature to see her everywhere, it wasn't the first time.

But when she had appeared in the church, struggling alongside Sister Tallis to lift a long-faded painting from the wall of the south hall, he had frozen in his tracks. Her hair was cut much shorter than he remembered, regaining some of its original shape after having been straightened when he saw her last, a bandana holding it away from her face. 

She wore a tattered, olive green smock with the sleeves rolled up to the bend of her elbows and a pair of boxy jeans rolled up at the cuffs. She’s painting again. As she spoke, her voice was clear and light, and her movements were steady, if a bit hesitant. She seemed like she’d returned to the land of the living, in a manner of speaking. And when she’d looked down the hall to where he stood, she smiled, and despite all her energy and color, he’d noticed a shadow in her eyes - a deep sadness that lurked quietly under her joy. 

After that, you’d started taking walks, getting coffee, eating, and reading together often. You saw each other almost every day - if she didn’t find him, he’d find her. She told him a little about the last few months, but not much. Only that she’d left Chris, and stayed with Sharon for a few weeks before the church hired her to do some restoration work. Along with a few other projects and a slot lecturing art history at the university, she’d made enough for a small apartment nearby. He didn’t push for anymore details - he knew there were things she wasn’t telling him, but he also knew that they hurt enough to have her looking away, knuckles white and voice growing quiet. He didn’t mind. He was just glad to have his friend back. 

He did find however, that he hit a lot harder in practice when he imagined the bag with Christian Martin’s face.

“Almost didn’t see you in the fog. Good run?” She asked, handing him one of the cups. He looked down at it. 

“Is this water?” He asked, a little disappointed. She laughed.

“I read somewhere that coffee dehydrates you!” she said. He took a long drink, emptying the cup quickly. 

“I know that,” he said as you started to walk. I needed that - but she doesn’t need to know. He feigned a deep frown. 

“Pfff-” She set the full cup into the empty one he held, the familiar bitter smell of black coffee drifting up from the dark drink. “You know I don’t like coffee.” She smiled. 

“Hm.” his frown broke into a small smile as he took a short drink. She took his arm, as usual. “If this was a scheme to get me to buy you a tea, it’s working.” She smiled mischievously, not meeting his eyes. He drank the coffee slowly as you walked, listening as she talked about her work on the towering painting that hung in the sanctuary, and her anxiety in working on such a tall ladder. 

“I can hold it for you if you like,” Damien offered. She sighed. 

“Not for hours at a time you can’t,” she said with a laugh, looking up at him. “I’d appreciate it if you made sure I have white flowers at my funeral, though.” He knew it was a joke, but he pulled her a little closer nonetheless. 

He hadn’t told her this, but those two years since seeing her at Christmas had been… terrifying. He kept thinking of how miserable she looked, of how ragged her voice was, how tattered and calloused her hands had been. He didn’t know if Chris had ever hit her, but he knew enough to gather that he was something of a narcissist, and that he was, at the least, emotionally abusive.

The thought of letting her go back to him, once he’d held her in his arms at the station - he almost couldn’t let go. But she loved him. And she could take care of herself. So he resigned himself to writing her letters whenever he could, and praying. When he stopped hearing from her out of the blue two months ago, he'd assumed the worst. 

He’d sit awake in his room, imagining that Chris had forbidden her from writing to him, that Chris had taken her somewhere farther away where he’d never see you again, that Chris had finally hurt her- he didn’t know what to do. 

So he waited, and prayed that she was safe. Somewhere along the line, he started to pray that she would leave him. That she would come home. He knew that God didn’t work that way - but asked all the same. And here she was.

—

Damien loved to watch her paint. Restore, he could hear her say, telling him for the 100th time - she was painting all the same. She stuck out her tongue when she was really focused, and wore thick glasses that he assumed gave her a closer look at the finer details. Every movement was so slow and controlled, it barely looked like she was moving at all. But gradually, she could bring a painting back from the dead - push new life and color into once dusty faces, and bring out details that were once unnoticeable. It was like magic.

“Father Karras.” A voice called behind him. He turned to find Father Hale walking towards him, hands behind his back.

“Father Hale,” Damien greeted him in a civil tone. Some part of him found it strange that she would have an audience of anyone other than him - besides, Father Hale carried with him everywhere an obtrusive piousness that seemed to drown any interesting conversation. He was pretty sure the man had no inkling of his dislike, however, and preferred to keep it that way. “Good to see St. Michael is getting a makeover, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He stopped beside him, watching her work for a moment, before looking over at Damien. “May I… have a word with you, Father?” 

Damien looked over at him, puzzled, but nodded. Father Hale turned to walk down the hall as Damien followed. They walked until they reached the far end of the hall, turning into an office. Father Hale shut the door behind them.

“What can I do for you?” Damien asked, trying to hide his annoyance. Father Hale’s voice was condescending in tone as he spoke. 

“I’m worried about you Karras, that’s all,” his face showed genuine concern. Damien held back a scoff.

“Go on,” Damien said.

“It’s been good to see you in better spirits since Mrs. Martin joined us,” He said. Damien shot him a dark look. Don’t call her that, he thought. He suddenly didn’t care about whatever Hale said next, but he stayed silent despite himself.

“But I’ve noticed you together outside this church-” he said, looking out the window to the street. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Karras.” He looked at him, all at once serious. Damien was furious - what is he insinuating?

“She’s a friend - what are you trying to say?” Damien raised his voice. Hale stepped toward him, undeterred.

“You’re young,” he said, stern. “She’s married, and you have taken an oath to serve our lord in poverty, obedience, and chastity. What else is the church meant to assume, with her parading you about like a-” Damien closed the distance between them in a moment, towering over Hale and gripping his collar in his fist.

“What? Like what, Hale?” He wanted him to say it. To call her whatever he was going to call her so he could make sure he knew he couldn’t get away with saying it. All he could hear was his pulse roaring in his ears, grateful now for the closed door. Hale paled - stammering. He held his gaze like that for a moment, daring him to say something. The man seemed to steel himself then, pushing Damien away in a huff, a bead of sweat formed on his broad forehead. 

As the roaring in his ears died down, he watched as Hale straightened his collar with a huff. 

“I won’t listen to this for another moment. How dare you doubt my vows?” Damien shook as he spoke, breathing even. He knew, deep down, he couldn’t do anything. Hale always had the Bishop’s ear - and she’d despise him if he ever hurt anyone in her name. He took a deep breath. “Good day, Father Hale.” 

Hale held his eyes, furious, but too intimidated to stop him as he slammed the door behind him. 

Damien had never made an enemy like that before in the church - he wasn’t sure if it would mean anything - but Hale's words had found their target. He thought of his vows for a moment, and of her-

He stopped. He could see the ladder standing empty in the sanctuary, and as he walked closer, her palate and the thick glasses lay on the floor - paint splattered as if she’d dropped it. He walked faster.

“Y/n?” He called, fear rising in his chest.

She’d stepped in the paint - a trail of yellow-tan paint leading a patchy trail to the side hall. Snatching his coat from where it lay over a pew, he rushed to follow it to the courtyard door. 

—

You were focused on a shadow. The shadow under St. Michael’s chin to be exact - it had long since lost its darkness, and you needed to bring it out - softly. Times like these, you wondered how Raphael managed such soft shadows with such clear contrast. All the same, the challenge was wonderful. You missed restoration with all your heart, and getting to return to it now, and on a Raphael, too. Well, at least a damn good copy. You knew it wasn’t the real thing - it had been in the Louvre since 1667, after all. I’m going to make it a better copy, you thought, smiling to yourself as you dabbed on the smallest speck of the deep yellow-black-

“Y/N.” You froze completely, breath hitching and blood running ice cold. You knew that voice. You prayed you’d imagined it. No, this isn’t happening-

“Y/N!” Chris yelled again. You dropped the palate, the loud clattering echoing over Chris’ deep bellowing. You shook, gripping the ladder with all your strength as you pulled the glasses from your face, setting them on the table of the ladder with a clatter. You turned your head slowly to look down at him. 

He stood about 20 feet away from the base of the ladder, eyes blazing and mouth open in shock. 

The few other people in the sanctuary looked on in confusion, some staring, some averting their eyes with obvious effort. You didn’t want to go down there. 

“Please-” He choked. His strangled voice struck you as his gaze softened. You watched his face, now noticing the thick stubble and dark shadows under his eyes - his hair unkempt. He looked… miserable. “I just want to talk- can we just talk? Please?” You hesitated for another moment, white noise filling your ears in the dead silence of the room. You nodded, and descended the ladder slowly, hands trembling. 

Panic distracted you as your feet found the floor, and you missed the last step, the ladder jumping with a clatter. Your glasses fell with an echoing ‘clack,' Chris’ hands biting into your shoulder and arm, steadying you. Too tight, you thought, fear spiking through you. You looked down the hall, searching for Damien. Please, please, please, you begged for him to appear. You didn’t see him. 

Chris released you after a moment, hands hovering near you, afraid you might bolt. 

“Follow me,” you said, walking slowly to the side hallway - I won't do this here, you thought. But you made sure to smear your foot in the paint before you turned, trailing a pattern of light-colored paint as you walked. Please find me, please. 

You didn’t think he’d hurt you - but you didn’t know what he would do like this, his eyes bloodshot and tear-stained. Your thoughts spun, screaming that this was a bad idea, that you should stay where the people are- but your feet carried you to the courtyard door all the same.

You held the door for him and closed it behind you, stepping out onto the stone landing. Steps fell away from the landing about eight feet away from the double doors, and Chris stood in the sun a few feet away from the edge. Though the sun had seemingly emerged, the day was still bitingly cold, and you shivered in the realization that you had left your coat inside. Can I even get back in this way? You wanted to check, but Chris’ gaze had you locked in place. You held your arms at the elbows, steadying yourself in the cold.

“How are you?” he asked. It surprised you. 

“I’m alright,” you said. That soft tone in his voice - you weren’t prepared for it. It broke your resolve. Maybe he’s here to listen, you thought hopefully. “How have you been?” He snorted.

“I’ve been better,” he said, looking down. “How could- do you know how worried I’ve been?” His voice rose.

“I’m sorry-” You started. You looked up. “I just couldn’t stay - I had to leave.” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me what was going on with you?” He said, voice strained. “Nobody would tell me anything, it feels like everyone’s hiding something from me.” You were quiet for a moment.

“I didn’t feel like I could talk to you. You were always gone- away at a conference or working, I didn’t want to interfere-” Your voice shook. “I tried to be everything you wanted from me. I thought being a good wife would make us happy… but it was never enough.” He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m not a bad husband,” He insisted. “I work so, so hard to build you a nice home, a nice life - the book was for us-”

“The book was for you, Chris," you said. “Everything was for you. I know you tried - I tried too, but it just wasn’t enough-” 

“You’re not telling me everything,” he said, anger rising in his voice. “Why are you still lying to me? Have I ever known you?” He was yelling now, and he took a step towards you. You shrank back. What? He-he can't know- Your silence seemed to make him more upset. “What aren’t you telling me-” You winced as he hissed in your face, backing up.

The door opened behind you, and you turned to see Damien step through quickly, standing behind you. Relief flooded over you.

“Damien,” you whispered as you gripped the cuff of his coat, clinging to him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You nodded, letting him go as you looked back to Chris, who stood motionless, eyes dark with realization.

“Was it because of him?” he demanded, eyes darting. His voice shook with rage. “You left me for a priest?” 

“No.” You tried to explain. “Chris, it wasn’t-” 

“No, I see now. You’re here for him - after everything we’ve been through, after everything I did for you, our life- you’re here fucking a Priest?” He smiled as he spoke, incredulous. You wished he would stop. You tried to say something - tried to defend yourself - 

“Stop.”

“How long have you been seeing him? Is he-” he laughed now, looking away before smiling up at Damien. “You know she’s pregnant, right?” All the air left your body, your stomach sinking.

“-no.” you could barely get the word out, recoiling away. 

“I kept waiting for you to tell me after I found the tests- I was so excited for us, y/n.” His voice broke. “And now I know why you never said anything-” His words were drowning in static, the floor pitching beneath you. Damien was yelling now too- it’s too much-

“I had a miscarriage.” You blurted out, forcing yourself to look up at Chris. The courtyard was silent, the static roared. Tears fell from your eyes, but you didn’t feel them. You felt a firm hand on your shoulder as Damien braced you. You took a shaky breath. The static quieted.

“I had a miscarriage,” You said it again. “And I-I couldn't tell you, because I didn’t - I couldn’t imagine raising a child with you.” You paused between sentences, taking a deep breath. Chris’ face fell, his eyes empty as he listened.

“And I should’ve said something. Years ago. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, because I knew it would break your heart like it was breaking mine-” Your voice cracked. You continued. “So I came home.” 

His face was set in stone, a tear falling from his face. “You’re not leaving me.” He seemed to be losing his grip on anger, and it fell away in pieces as it was replaced by despair.

“No, you’re right,” you ventured, concentrating on keeping your voice steady as you met his eyes. “You’re leaving me.” He looked at you, incredulous.

“I won’t-” he started, quiet now. “I’ve been a terrible husband-” 

“I’ve been a terrible wife.” you held his gaze. Make your speech.

“Despite it all - despite everything I think what you hate is that you do love me,” he said, his voice wavering, but with a weak note of hope. “I think you stayed all this time because you love me, and it was real. I think this - this was meant to happen. We’re supposed to be broken and terrible together, and despite it all, I love you, and I’m not leaving you until you get down on your knees and beg me.” He looked into your eyes then, seething. 

You looked at him, and kneeled - cold pavement stinging your knuckles as you steadied yourself. 

“Please leave me.” You said, as clearly as you could. He looked truly lost now, mouth slightly open in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he said plainly. He waited for a moment more, as if waiting for you to take it back. You didn’t. “Fuck,” he said with an empty laugh. Then he inhaled deeply and with a sigh, turned and left. Descending the stairs, walking down the sidewalk beside the building, and turning at the front of the building, he disappeared.

When you were sure he was gone, you fell back onto your legs and breathed a shaky laugh that descended into a broken sob. The tears wouldn’t stop - you couldn't see or get a breath in - but crying was all you could do.

Something heavy and warm fell over you like a blanket as Damien’s coat wrapped around your shoulders. You couldn't see him, but you felt his strong arms encircle your waist and hold your head gentle against him as you collapsed into his shoulder, surrendering to the shaking sobs.

He held you and rocked you gently as you wept, whispering quiet ‘I’m sorry's' and ‘I’ve got you’s’ into your hair. You stayed like that for a long time. 

[nightowlfandom]

Kanato Sakamaki- I’m Sadistic For You

FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTS DIABOLIK LOVERS CONTENT AAAAHHH THANK YOU BESTIE! I GOT YOUR OTHER ONE AND I’M DOING IT TOO!  

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

So ANON ASKS

For Kanato from DL ( I haven’t seen much done for him and it makes me sad because he’s a favorite ). (: I could Lowkey do some more if you’re not super bogged down I had another idea BUT I ALREADY SUBMITED ANOTHER BEFORE THIS SO IM NOT GONNA OVERWHELM YOU LOL but- anyway Fee free to be as nsfw with my prompts (if you do them) as you want. I dont have any triggers so- writing them super accurate and sadistic won’t bother me :3

Bruh....Jesus is my helmet...but NOT TODAY let’s fucking go! Okay readers, you heard, they aint got no triggers. So if you do...move it along.

52- “You can’t call me cute!”

80- “Shut up! I’m not blushing!”

31-“You need to be taught a lesson…”

81- “You look so...inviting all tied up.”

84- “What’s the word I’m looking for?....Pet!”

Also in this you and Yui are BFFs because she isn’t some cold hearted bitch (homegirl trips over oxygen, plus I love her lol)

I was legit about to have him spit in your mouth....I’m so shameful...maybe next time.

Leggo!

I’m turning into a Yandere account and I am totally okay with that.

...

“You know living here isn’t that bad.” you mused to Yui. “When no one is talking.”

Your friend laughed as she cut up some carrots. Yui turned to look at you as she prepare to peel some potatoes. “So living here is terrible every day other than right now?” she replied.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. She wasn’t wrong. 

You and Yui were making dinner for the house. After a ambush that landed everyone injured except you and her (thankfully). You had offered to make soup and stew for everyone. They were all in their respective rooms healing while you had prepared everything.

“They really fought hard today, I thought Kanato was about to rip that vampires jaw off. He’s really protective of you, Y/N.” she winked. “I think he likes you more than he lets on.” 

Kanato and you had a very strange relationship. He hated you, but he didn’t HATE you. No one could lay a finger on you, no one could even look at you, even if he said he didn’t care. Reiji tried to and Kanato almost murdered him.

“He then told me that Teddy said I was ugly.” you reminded her flatly. “Yeah he so cares.” you snorted.

“Maybe he has trouble telling you his feelings”

“I wish everyone was as optimistic as you.” you shook your head. “Looks like the soup is finished.” 

“I’m just saying Y/N, just think about it.”

...

You only had one bowl of soup left to deliver, to Kanato’s room. You grumbled as you stood outside the door. 

“Kanato? It’s me.” you knocked on the door. “I’m coming in okay?” 

Before you could wait for an answer you opened the door and walked in with the cart. 

Kanato was laying on his bed when you entered, groaning in what you assumed was boredom.

“Teddy, tell Y/N that I don’t want whatever she made.” Kanato turned away from you. The scars he had suffered on his back said it all. All for you...

Your recalled the terror in your voice as you had screamed for help as the rogue vampire wrapped his claws around your leg. Kanato’s name was the first to escape your lips as you had tried to crawl away to Yui. You remembered reaching out to Kanato with your strongest hand, begging him to save you.

The look in his eyes was feral as he screamed your name too, grabbing you hand and pulling you to him. You were sobbing into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life for a good ten seconds before Yui replaced him, hugging you tightly in her small arms too. Before you knew it, the rogue’s head had been thrown through a window...

...

“Y/N, Look at me! You’re safe now...you’re safe with me...”

...

“Teddy, could you please tell Kanato that while his pouting is very adorable, it won’t get him out of this?”

“Don’t call me cute! You can’t do that.” Kanato glared at you through hooded eyes. “If I wasn’t so weak I’d-”

“Well let me take care of you.” you cut him off, taking the bowl to him. “For me?”

Kanato paused, his glare softening. 

“You must be in love with me if you’re so insistent on me getting better.” he grumbled, sitting up. “Y/N is in love with me Teddy!”

“Kanato.” you felt your face heat up violently. “Don’t say things like that.” you groaned.

“It’s blushing teddy, how cute!”

Kanato’s use of the word ‘it’ wasn’t new to you. In fact when he wasn’t calling you names, chasing you around with forks pretending to stab you, or worse, it was denoting you to objects.

“H-hey! I am not blushing!” you pouted. “My face just looks that way.” you lied. “S-shut up.” you grumbled.

“And what if I don’t feel like it?” he challenged, knowing you wouldn’t say a word back. You were kind of like Yui. You wouldn’t dare challenge any of the Sakamaki brothers. It was a death sentence in every sense of the word.

“Kanato, I just want you to feel better.” you looked down at your feet. 

“There’s one thing you can do.” Kanato used his strength to stand to his feet. Despite his looks, he was tall, and under that cute exterior was a mean and feral beast. He staggered over to you, a sick smile on his face. That couldn’t be good, not by a long shot. 

“And what exactly would that be?” you asked. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t wanna know what he was planning. You were positive that it wasn’t gonna end well either. 

“Get on your knees.”

“My knees?” you repeated. “Why do you want me to-”

“Now Y/N.” he spoke over you. You felt his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t like repeating myself.” his nails dug into your skin, causing your knees to wobble under the pain. “On. Your. Knees!”

Your feet gave out, practically sending you crashing down to the floor. You looked like a dog, on your hands and knees. You appeared weak and pathetic.

You found it in yourself to look up at Kanato. Teddy was perched on the bed, ‘watching’ you two. You felt his fingertips creep under your chin. 

“Aww...” he smiled. “You’re like a little...What’s the word I’m looking for...PET!. It’s cute.” He caressed the side of your face. “Too bad I kill all my pets...they can’t handle me...can you handle me, Pet?”

“Yes, Kanato.” you found yourself saying. You felt like you didn’t have a choice...

and you loved every second of it.

“Bullying you has made me regain my strength! Isn’t this wonderful?” he wrapped one of his hands around your neck. “You’re so fun to torment” he laughed.

“K-kanato.” you coughed.

“Is it hard to breath. Y/N?” he asked sinisterly, that crazed smile gracing his lips. His words were terrifying although his actions said otherwise. He loosened his grip on your throat, allowing air to flow more freely. It was those small things that made you think he didn’t hate you as much as he loved to preach.

“Y/N...when that vampire came...I thought I was gonna lose you for good this time” he said sadly, allowing his arm to return to his side. “I thought I had-...that you were gonna die.” 

“You saved me though.” you replied. Kanato knelt down to your level, still slightly above you. 

“Yeah...because if anyone is gonna break you, it’s gonna be me.”

“I care about you a lot, Kanato.” you finally said it. “I like you too much.” you exposed yourself. “I want you stay by your side.” you said pathetically. “Even if you hate me.”

Before you could say another word, Kanato claimed your lips in a kiss. He held the sides of your face in his hands. It was the first time he had ever kissed you. He hummed thoughtfully, pushing you down to the floor so you were laying on your back. He crawled over you, not breaking the kiss. 

“K-kanato.” you whimpered.

“You need to be taught a lesson. If your gonna be my girlfri- I mean pet, you’ll have to learn.” he kissed down your neck.

Suddenly, Kanato ripped the seam of your jeans all the way up your left leg, leaving it completely exposed to the air.

“Oh look, your clothes are messed up, guess we’ll have to take them off.” he smirked. In another swift motion, your pants were torn to shreds. The fabric fell in a circle around you both.

“Teddy look! Y/N is wearing such cute panties.” he cackled maniacally. “Her naughty place is leaking.”

You trembled, waiting for him to do whatever it was he was planning.

“I heard blood tastes better when it’s from your naughty place.” he ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth. “Y/N” he moaned, running his index finger along your clothed heat. “You smelled so much better here...I just want to- ungh.”

He suddenly drove his fangs into your right thigh. You gasped, arching your back. He violently grabbed your legs, holding them down. His tongue lashed against your freshly made wound. 

You could hear him whimpering, cursing under his breath. 

Kanato would deny it with his life, but everything about you was like a drug to you. Tasting your blood was even sweeter than every dessert he’s ever tasted. Feeling you whimper and plea for him did things to him that would make a sailor blush. 

Forget Yui, forget his brothers, forget it all.

“Fuh-” Kanato couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stop himself from ripping off your panties and driving his tongue into your most sensitive parts. Hearing you moan for him, cry for him. 

The rumors were right, vampires were godly lovers. It was like Kanato knew what you wanted and where. He lashed his tongue against your heat, grabbing your legs. 

“Wrap your legs around my head,” he demanded. “Not like it’s gonna kill me.” he laughed manically. “

Knock knock

“Y/N, are you in there?” Yui’s small voice caused you to panic a little. As you tried to get up, Kanato pushed you right back down, growling into your pussy,

“FUCK!” you whined, making it very obvious what you two were up to. “Kanato, I can’t-”

“Then don’t.” he grunted, not ceasing his movements. “Cum, cum for me.”

“K-KAANAAA!” you cried as you came. You thrashed and writhed under his touch, but he didn’t stop. His tongue never stopped moving. “fuh- fuck! Kanato, t-too much!”

“I said cum for me, I didn’t say I’d stop.” he thrust his fingers into you to add insult to injury. “You’re so fun to fuck with!” he spat.

“Kanato!” you sobbed. You couldn’t stop moving, you couldn’t stop thrashing. Th epleasure had gotten to you so much, you were drooling.

He finally withdrew his mouth from you, smiling evilly at the mess he left.

Kanato had grabbed one of his ties that had left on the floor and bound your wrists together.

“You look so inviting tied up for me...” he shuddered as he bit his lip. He licked his fingers clean of your blood and juices. “Good thing the night is young...because I’m not done with you.”

...

[harrywritingsbyme]

Just the thought of walking in on harry as hes stroking his thick cock and his eyes are shut closed and hes biting his lip one had behind his head. Fuck me up

Want Some Help?

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I was having brainfarts all day and all night long on what to write. Like I've been going back and forth on what concepts to write and I've been distracted with this election mess. Buttt...I was able to find something that I rlly liked and could actually write for you guys right now. So I hope y’all like it...crappy ending and all! Enjoy🙃 

Harry was alone and in his subspace. When he woke up, you were not by his side in bed. The house was completely silent with not even the slightest trace of you being there. The shower wasn’t running, there wasn’t any noise coming from the kitchen, and the simple feeling of your presence was absent for Harry. The only thing left of you for the time being was a little note on his bedside table telling him that you had to get an early start to your day, that you’d be back soon, and that you loved him. Other than that, Harry was all alone and left to his own devices. And that was the worst thing that could possibly happen when in his subspace. He needed you and only you to take care of him and make him feel good.

Now when he began to wake up, Harry was softly pushing his lower half down into the bed as he transitioned out of his sleep. He was becoming more and more aware of his hard cock and he was instinctively moving to relieve himself. This is when he began to slip into his subspace. As he continued to rut his hips into the bed, Harry was reaching out towards your side of the bed and feeling around for your warm body. But instead of feeling you, he was met with the cool sheets on covering the bed. And from that point on, Harry was fully awake and needy. Now despite the fact that Harry’s cock was throbbing and he was a squirming mess in the bed, he still tried his hardest to not touch himself. He knew that his hand would never compare to your soft hands or your velvety walls, so he did his best to hold off on touching his cock and he stuck to digging his hips into the mattress. His hips were uncoordinatedly and quickly pushing back and forth into the bed to give him some relief. As he does this, he is also a whimpering mess as he clutches onto the pillows and whimpers into them from the pleasure. Those whimpers and moans are very shaky and higher pitched at times as he tries to take care of himself without any help from his hands. 

But just like always, the pleasure was beginning to catch up to him. By using the bed to relieve himself, he was only intensifying his need and pushed him to use his hands. And that was what he inevitably did. After no more than 10 minutes, Harry was dying to feel some type of skin on skin contact with his cock, even if it was just his hand. He wasted no time shoving his boxers down his legs and flinging the comforter off of him so that he could have his cock exposed. And just as expected, his girthy shaft was standing proudly in his lap. The head of him was a bit swollen and his slit was even beginning to bead with his precum. Harry was also very sensitive. He was so sensitive that the exposure to the cooler air around him in the room caused his cock to twitch a bit in his lap. Before wrapping his hand around his throbbing shaft, Harry bring his hand up to spit into his palm a bit. He does this because he wants to feel something that can feel somewhat close to the way your mouth or cunt would feel. It’d never do you any justice, but for the time being, Harry needed to have a release or get himself close enough in hopes that you come home in enough time to take care of him the way he needs. He then finally goes in and wraps his hand nicely wrapped around his shaft, keeping it a bit loose for some movement but tight enough to simulate the same tightness, even in the slightest bit, of your hands and walls.

Even though Harry swore up and down that nothing could and would ever compare to you, he had to admit that his hand felt pretty good. As he tugged and tugged, Harry could feel himself melting into the bed and really feeling good. He was also very whiney. He’s so caught up in moving his hand back and forth and up and down his shaft that he couldn’t stop the loud and pleasured moans from tumbling out of his mouth. What also helped was what Harry was envisioning in his mind. His legs were spread and his eyes were closed as he brought his mind to the times where you were between his legs taking care of him in some shape or form. He remembered back to those times where you had your mouth on him and just made a mess of his cock. You just slobbered all over him and took him down your throat as you pushed him into a release. He also thinks back to all the times where you used your hand to pleasure him and make him spill all over your hand. He lived for how rough your were at times and how delicate you were at others. You managed to use two different techniques that were able to catapult him over the edge right into a blissful release. And of course, Harry couldn’t stop thinking back to the times where you masterfully rode his cock and bounced your body up and down on him, moving your pussy up and down on his shaft and sending him into the depths of your body the entire time. His mind ran through all of those explicit memories as he tugged at himself. But as he thinks back, he remembers one detail that he can’t get enough of. Whenever you took care of him, whether he was in subspace or not, you always played with his balls. You liked to cup and squeeze them in your hands and just roll them a round in your palm a bit.  And when you were physically between his legs, you’d go as far as to suck them into your mouth, mostly one at a time given that they were pretty sizable. In addition to that they were always heady and warm, and Harry was incredibly sensitive down there. Whenever you messed around with them, his moans always got louder and more plentiful as he received the bonus pleasure. And because of this, Harry doesn’t even think about it before he’s bringing his free hand down between his legs as well to cup his balls into his hand. When he does this, Harry’s moans become louder and more frenzied as he adds onto the pleasure that he’s giving himself. 

Harry continues to multitask and plays with his balls while tugging and teasing his cock. As he goes on with this, Harry becomes overwhelmed and wrapped up in taking care of himself. So wrapped up that he doesn’t even realize your presence in the house. After a little over 2 hours of running around and doing what you needed to get done, you were ready to get back to Harry and relax. You don’t even bother putting things away. You simply peel your jacket and mask off, wash your hands and make your way right upstairs to the bedroom to see Harry. You aren’t even down the hall and in the doorway of the bedroom to hear his moans. To you, they were more like whines. It sounded like Harry was fighting with the immense pleasure he was giving himself and the lack of your presence to give him the overwhelming pleasure that you never failed to deliver. Simply hearing his moans caused you to put some pep into your step and you were practically rushing down the hallway so that you could get in there and see what was going on. And once you did, there was an immediate shockwave that went right between your legs. He looked so desperate to cum and you could see how bad he needed help. Harry was bucking right up into his hands and trying his best to bring himself to the edge. After inconspicuously standing in the doorway for a little while, you finally step into the room and you make your way over to Harry’s side of the bed. Instead of going right in between his legs, you come up to where his head was resting against the pillows and you bring your hand down to his forehead so that you could push back the hairs that were clinging onto his sticky skin. When you do this, Harry instantly jumps. He has mixed feelings of excitement and need for you now that you were here and able to take care of him.

“Need you so bad mommy!” He whines continuing to move his hands between his legs.

“Aww baby, you feeling subby today? Do you want some help?” You coo, continuing to stroke his forehead and cheeks. 

“Mhm!” He whimpers loudly, begging for you to take control.

“Well mommy gonna take care of her baby.” You reassure, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and parted lips. You then make your way down the bed, quickly kicking your shoes off before crawling between his spread and bent legs. Once you’re between them, you can really see him bad he needs you. His hands were gripping onto his balls and cock for dear life and he was very swollen as well. You could tell that he needed to just let go of the mounting pleasure and feel good. “Now let go of that pretty cock so mommy can take care of it baby.” You remind, bringing a hand up to pull his hand away from his shaft. As soon as he relinquishes control (well the little bit he had since you were still in control a bit despite you actually being there) you wrap your smaller hand around his shaft, resulting in an immediate gasp from Harry. You give him a little squeeze before dragging you hand up and down his shaft, eventually bringing your other hand to his balls. His cock looked so pretty when it was all swollen for you. It was nice and big and extremely sensitive. No matter what you did, he was going to be in shambles.

Harry was on cloud nine right now. He was finally getting pleasured the way he needed. Your soft hands and mouth on him as you play with and dote on his cock. He felt like he could cum right then and there from how good you felt. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Right as he was settling into the pleasure of your hands, you put your mouth on him. Pursing your lips around his head and suckling on it. This causes him to begin shaking and moaning even louder than before. Harry can feel a very familiar warmth spreading throughout his entire body, signaling to him that he was approaching his release. 

“Please mommy! Need t’cum!” He cries bucking up into you. 

Instead of replying to him, you decide to just push him so close to the edge that he can’t stop himself from cumming. So you push your head down, taking more and more of him into your mouth and down your throat while squeezing and tugging at his warm balls. For Harry, this was a deadly combination. He couldn’t hold himself back no matter how hard he tried, and without warning he begins to spill his seed into your mouth/throat. 

“Mommy!” Harry yells out, feeling the waves of his release crash down onto him. He couldn’t describe how good it felt to be pleasured by you and to cum because of you. Rope after rope Harry empties himself into your mouth to which you gladly swallow. Even though he always cums a lot, you noticed that he came even more when in his subspace. And you absolutely loved it. 

Once he’s completely done, you pull your mouth cup from him and you lick any remaining cum oof of his cock before crawling up the bed to check in on him. 

“How you feeling baby?” You ask softly,  cupping his cheek to calm him sown a little bit more. 

“Really good.” He slurs, relaxing into your hand and calming down some more. “M’sorry.” He continues on softly. Harry was now, slowly but surely, coming out of his subspace.

“You have nothing to be sorry for baby!” You coo sadly, bringing your face down to press kisses all over his face. “Being subby is perfectly fine. You’re just a man who’s in his subspace who wants kisses and his cock played with. And that’s perfectly fine! I’ll give you kisses and play with your cock and anywhere else for that matter as much as you want sweet boy.” You reassure him, making sure to look him right in the eye ass you say it. 

“I love you.” He mumbles with a little pout. 

“I love you too baby.” You hum sweetly, giving him another kiss to the lips.

“Can we cuddle for a little bit?” He asks shyly.

“Of course, do you want a toy inside too?” You ask him, to which he feverishly nods yes. “M’gonna need you to turn on your side for me and I’ll be right back.” You instruct before getting out of bed and making your way to the closet. 

Masterlist 

[rodeoxqueen]

Can you do more head cannons of The DMC boys taking care of their baby girl???

Howdy,

I do not think I’ve written headcanons of Dante, Vergil, Nero, and V with a baby daughter? Well, no time like the present. 

Enjoy, 

Rodeo 

Dante 

“Baby. Baby girl. Baaaaaby!” Dante calls as his daughter, white-haired and arms covered in baby fat, gurgles with joy. 

Literally the love of his life. The babe looks just like him, with white hair and blue eyes. 

Lady and Trish adore the baby girl and do not trust him to dress their niece cutely. So they spend all his money buying the cutest little shoes and dresses. The baby fever is so bad for them. 

Dante is so protective of his little demon child. He duct tapes all the sharp corners in his shop. It’s Hello-Kitty and red duct tape. It’s such an eye-sore but he’s so proud of himself. 

He doesn’t use her crib. Every night, his daughter cries when he puts her in the crib. He ends up taking her to his bed, her little body resting on his chest, moving to the rising and falling of his form. 

They eat meals together, both covered in bits of food. Messy eaters, the two of them. Dante always seems to eat incredibly leaned back and his daughter copies him, leaning to the back of the baby seat with her little feet crossed.

 She loves sundaes and slaps the table when she can’t get any. Dante can’t resist giving her the strawberries to gnaw on. 

“Shithead! You’re going to give her cavities!” 

“Nero, she doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 

Sometimes they just nod at each other.

“Hey, boss lady.” 

“Dah.” 

“Very nice.” 

He gets a tactical baby carrier, much to everyone’s disgust. 

His little baby girl is often found latched onto his leg, cooing and refusing to leave from her father’s proximity. 

Vergil tries to hold her and she cries immediately. It’s because Vergil looks like a very serious Dante and that doesn’t sit right with her. 

The twins tried dressing the same and brushing their hair the same style to see what she would do. She keeps pointing to the other and saying “da-da” and grabbing at the other twin. Eventually, she starts fussing. 

Well actually, demon children can detect parental pheromones. She likely figures out who is who very soon and will not unlatch from her demon daddy. 

“She’s got quite a grip,” Vergil comments as blood soaks into Dante’s shirt where her hands clung to him.  

“Her claws came in early.” His brother grunts. His hands aren’t even on her, she is completely supporting herself with her little devil hands. 

Dante will walk out of the house with his hair done like his child’s. The last thing a demon sees is the merciless face of Hello Kitty on a barrette on Dante’s head. It’s quite frankly scarier than anything else. 

See Exhibit C-(credited to @aztarion)

Vergil 

“This is my daughter. If anything happens to her, I will kill Dante and everyone else in this room and then I will kill Dante again.” 

“Vergil what.” 

This man does not use babytalk. He talks to her in complete sentences with words Dante doesn’t even know, his child babbling in return. 

“Child, I grow quite jaded by this tirade. Either participate in nap time or stay put,  I shall not heed your intentions to stay up.” 

“Abababa!” 

“I will not tolerate your churlishness.” 

He does his best to dress her in blue. They match all the time. 

He isn’t great with doing hair that isn’t his. His daughter has all her hair swept back like her old man. She copies him, slapping her forehead and swiping her stray strands of hair back. He smirks at her likeness. 

Vergil had to be taught how to change a diaper by Nero. 

No baby carrier, he will hold her to his waist at all times and she chews on the handle of the Yamato. He just lets her. 

He doesn’t buy her toys, everyone else does.

“Child, you must stop collecting tributary from your relatives.” 

“Bababababa.” 

Vergil does not trust those two women with his child. However, he finds his daughter points to Trish and makes grabbing motions. Trish coos at her in her slender arms and laughs when she chews her hair, his daughter gripping Lady’s finger in her other hand. Vergil stops, and realizes-

This is the closest he will ever see his mother hold his child. He finds he does not mind it. 

Vergil’s daughter is protected by his doppelganger, who moves stuff out of her crawling path and ensures she doesn’t bump her little head. 

He also does not use the crib. But he tried. His baby daughter cried and reached for him, her little face scrunched up with sadness. 

“It is for your own good. You must be independent. The world is a hard place, sleeping alone is the least you can do.” 

The baby continues to cry and Vergil relents, eyes soft as he takes her back. He holds her the entire night. 

“Perhaps just this once, my little lamb.” 

All grown up, his daughter will find her baby photos in a neat scrapbook, all images were taken by Dante of Vergil holding her every night. 

Nero 

Youngest dad here, quite frankly the most competent. 

He grew up taking care of other kids, no matter how punk rock he is, his instincts to take care of kids shine through. 

She has a black pacifier that’s shaped like a skull. 

He is so clingy to this little girl, knowing how he grew up with no parents. 

His little girl is always with him. If not, she’s with Kyrie. She has to be convinced to go play with other children. 

“Hey, can an uncle hold his niece-” 

“Frick off, I’m her dad.” 

“Censoring yourself, are we?” 

He gives up swearing near her. That swear jar paid for a new school building next to the orphanage. 

Nero melts when his little girl scratches her nose the way he always does. Some things are just genetic. 

His little girl has his temper. She kicks and screams and slaps him when he doesn’t give her what she wants, although she is an angel in general. 

His kid is the first one to fully trigger, a very angry and blue one-year-old with horns and astral wings, literally bursting with demonic energy and snarling. Nero sheds a tear in pride after she slashes the side of his face. A bag of frozen peas in hand, he looks at her with joy. 

“She’s going to be so kick-butt. Just like me, huh?” 

His daughter is tolerant of her grandfather. In the arms of Vergil, she glares back at him. 

“She will be a very strong Sparda,” Vergil comments as she rips a button off his jacket. 

Nero is so soft with this baby girl. He’ll scream at Dante and his father seven ways till Sunday but coo in baby talk with her. 

He sings her to bed the classics. 

“But I’m a creep, I am a weirdo. I don’t belong here…..” Nero rocks his daughter side to side as she softly breathes. 

“N-Nero?” Kyrie asks from the doorway. He casts her a glance. 

“It’s Radiohead.” He says before returning to his loving mumbles. Kyrie sighs. 

V 

“Oh my darling. Look at you, little star.” He beams as he taps her little nose. Her hair is white just like his when Nightmare is unbound. 

He adores her, this little crawling bundle of joy. 

Cane in one hand, he holds his child in the other. 

“Wow V, human babies sure are squishy looking gremlins.” 

“Griffon-” 

“In a good way!” 

The two other familiars are also dedicated to his daughter. Shadow likes to clean her with her tongue, causing her hair to stick up in all directions. 

Griffon collects things that are shiny and gifts them to her little fat baby hands. 

Unfortunately, babies are very grabby little people. Griffon caused a power outage one time because the little starling pulled his tail feathers out in curiosity. 

Of course, V reads to his child his poetry. It’s the only way she can be put to sleep.

She fusses and V simply holds her up and asks her what the matter is. She babbles and squirms and V does his best to understand baby talk. 

He lets people hold her, although he is nearly inches away to retrieve her in case she is displeased.

Dante is the favorite uncle and she loves to play peek-a-boo with him.

V nearly keels over one day when she managed to absorb Shadow, soft baby skin decorated by black spider lilies. She returns Shadow in the form of a kitten although the big cat quickly turns back into a grown panther.

She tried it with Griffon. Yes, of course he pops out again a swearing baby chicken.

“My dear, what on earth?”

“Da-da!”

She pulls on V’s hair, threading her fingers through the midnight strands. She also puts her hand on his gently-sloping nose. He doesn’t mind it, although her fingers can be sticky. 

He keeps a little bell on his cane to waggle over her head when she is bored. She loves it and reaches her little hands to the sound. She likes to take his rings and clink them together. 

Sometimes, he gives up and just eats the same baby food she does. 

He’s a very patient father, although she can easily exhaust him with all the demands. 

“The queen reigns over all.” V muses as she throws a tantrum. 

He has a day-to-day journal of her development, full of pressed flowers and inked poetry of his Little Wanderer. 

[bokettochild]

i've kinda always thought that legend would a beekeeper. he just looks like he'd bee one, if that makes sense. don't know, can't explain it

Honey, you can't expect that this wouldn't join Ketto's Cottagecore Collection :)

There are many things that Ravio likes about Hyrule.

Mr. Hero’s bees are not one of them.

Oh, he loves the life that the bees spread, the flowers they tend, he loves dolloping gobs of honey over his bread while Mr. Hero watches with something that is shock, concern and awe all at once. He enjoys the gentle humming that always drifts in through the windows and sets the mood for a busy day, and he likes watching Mr. Hero putter about the hives with that soft little expression on his face, a tune on his lips that the bees seem to echo in their hums.

(He also likes the silly little dances Mr. Hero will break into while he works when he thinks no one is watching).

But what he doesn’t like are the bees themselves.

Mr. Hero, unfortunately, loves them.

“Does it have to be here?” Rupee green eyes peek out from out from under his hood as he stares across the table. It’s one of those rare moments between darting across Hyrule and Lorule where Mr. Hero will stop and stay at the house for a day or two. Not that his housemate really has a choice, Mr. Hero’s leg is busted horridly, and kingdom to save or no, he can hardly limp around the house, much less tromp all over the kingdom.

“She’s fine.” Mr. Hero’s voice is softer than normal, smooth as honey as a soft expression plays over his usually scowling face, watching the bee that crawls over his hand with a fond expression as the tiny thing attends to a droplet of honey from their mid-day meal. Three or four others buzz around the hero’s head, his ears twitching ever so slightly as he tracks their motions. But still, Mr. Hero is as calm as could be as he munches some bread, violet fixed on yellow and black stripes.

Ravio himself is half a buzz away from jumping up from the table and hiding in the bed-room. “They’re bees!”

“Hush!” Mr. Hero’s face twists into a scowl, scolding but harsh. “Don’t be so loud, you’ll scare them.”

“I’ll scare them?” Seriously? Does Mr. Hero have no care for his feelings? “Mr. Hero, I don’t mind if dear come to trim your front yard. I don’t mind if birds fly in through your windows to wake you up. I don’t mind if rabbits help you work in the garden or kangaroos appear in the living room, or even if there’s a bear restocking the woodpile. But bees?” He has to fight not to raise his voice as Mr. Hero stares at him. “Why?”

“They’re harmless. And they’re just helping out.”

“They sting!” Ravio whimpers, drawing his arms close to his chest as a particularly inquisitive insect buzzes over to investigate the green eye patches of his bunny robe.

“Only monsters.” Mr. Hero’s smile is sickly sweet and utterly terrifying, and Ravio finds himself shivering at the sight of the dark clouds that flash through his doppelganger's eyes.

“Yes, well. I’m not exactly Hylian.”

Mr. Hero only snorts at that, but from that point on, Mr. Hero stopped setting out a little dish of honey on the countertop while they ate.

It is annoying that he chose to put it on the porch though.

“What are the little bumbly things?” Tune asks, staring at him with his face twisted up in confusion. “And why is everyone else scared of them?”

Ravio’s head shoots up from his bag, eyes flitting around nervously as he searches for the “bumbly things” in question, only to have the kid point out a whole nest of them perched in a tree not far from their camp, a few soldiers standing about and pointing, their idiot selves likely considering the pros and cons of raiding it.

“Bees.” He clips back, voice strained as he tries to force a smile for the youngster. “They make honey and wax and things.”

Tune frowns, silver-teal eyes flickering in thought. “I’ve never heard of bees before. I don’t think we have them on the great Sea.”

“Don’t have what on the Great Sea, kid?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir questions, and Ravio jumps in surprise when he sees the man leaning over him to look at the sailor.

“Mr. Captain Hero Sir!”

“Ravio.” The leader’s face melts into a lovely smile, bright and honest in a way it isn’t most of the time anymore. “What are you two talking about?”

“Bees.” Wind points again to the nest in the tree, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s face melts into a tired frown that only becomes a scowl as he spies Mask already halfway up the backside of the tree where the soldiers can’t see him.

“Bees.” Comes the tired sigh.

“Mr. Hero keeps bees.” Ravio muses. It’s been forever since he’d seen his dear friend, and it makes him worry. Is Mr. Hero eating enough? Who’s making sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the floor? Who’s keeping the house clean so he can tend the orchard? Is someone there to make sure that there’s food in the house? That trips are made to the market?

Oh heavens! Worry gnaws away in his chest. What if the soldiers have caught Mr. Hero again? What if he’s been hurt and there’s no one there to help him clean and dress the wounds?

The animals that flit over the house like something out of a fairy tale can only do so much, and blood will only scare them away, just as sure as Ravio’s startled squeaks and whimpers would.

“Hey.” A warm hand settles on his shoulder and he finds himself looking up into rich royal eyes as Mr. Captain Hero Sir stares down at him with concern. “You okay?”

“I’m worried.” He murmurs in return, fingers fiddling with the edges of his scarf. “But there’s nothing that can be done about it, not yet.” He tries for a smile, but he knows based off of his friend’s reaction that either it can’t be seen beneath his hood or that it’s not convincing. “Go get Mask, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, before he gets himself stung.”

There’s a sharp cry or three and the angry buzzing of bees and the three of them wince collectively. “Or not.” The tired captain sighs, patting his shoulder gently before darting over to the campfire and grabbing one of the discarded torches.

“What-”

“Smoke calms bees down.” Ravio answers before Tune can finish asking the question. “Mr. Hero uses it when they get really fussy.”

Tune stares at him oddly, but doesn't ask.

That evening, Ravio finds himself with an armload of Mask while the kid sulks and pouts, grumbling and swearing under his breath as the merchant and captain work together to free him from his bee inflicted torture.

“Thank the goddesses you’re not allergic.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir scolds, waving his tweezers in Mask’s face while Ravio tries his hardest to focus on a stinger lodges between the kid’s fingers, fighting winces and whimpers of his own while Mask sits through the scolding and treatment with only the occasional hiss and glare.

“I’ve dealt with bees before.” Their youngest huffs petulantly.

“Wild bees?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir cocks a brow, disbelieving.

“Forest bees.” The kid rolls his eyes.

“Well then you should know by now not to mess with them.” The captain sounds, and acts, so much like a tired father that it makes Ravio smile softly.

How would Mr. Captain Hero Sir deal with Mr. Hero’s snark and sass, he wonders.

How would the captain handle yet another self-sacrificing teenager who really needs an adult, he muses that night, as two sticky pre-teens curl against the captain’s sides, the three wrapped in the man’s scarf while Mr. Captain Hero Sir strokes their blonde heads. Mask is drooling and Tune keeps twitching and snoring loudly, but the man who holds them couldn’t look more at peace.

Bright blue eyes meet his own over the campfire’s flames. “There’s room for one more.”

The snort pushes itself from him before he has a chance to stop it. “Where?”

The man smiles, shifting and pulling Mask into his lap, the kid nestles against his chest, tucking his thumb in his mouth slowly in a motion that has Ravio cooing softly while the captain laughs. “Such a grown up.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir teases softly, knowing full well the target can’t hear him, before patting the ground next to him. “Here.”

Ravio doesn’t say no. Mr. Captain Hero’s arms aren’t as warm and safe and home-like as Mr. Hero’s, but they’re nice, and it’s closer to home than he is on the opposite side of the fire. As he settles down, the captain smiles at him, face cheeky as he motions to the bowl still sitting at his knee. “Honey?”

After that night, he successfully impressed two heroes of courage with how much honey he could eat, and when the light had faded fully, Mr. Captain Hero Sir found himself with three snoring boys I his arms, each full to bursting with sweet golden honey, and each nursing more than a few stings.

When Impa made her rounds, whispering a teasing comment about going soft, the captain only shot her a grin and a playfully rude gesture, making the woman laugh.

“Bees!” Tune- no, Wind- chuckles, pointing out the hives behind the house as if he’s never seen the creatures before.

Captain hero Sir Jr. Winces, pulling away from the field as his father- brother? Snorts out knowing laughter behind them.

“Yeah.” Mr. Hero shrugs. “They help keep the orchard healthy and provide us with honey and wax. We practically need six colonies with how much honey Ravio eats.” The jab is playful but the easy smile on Mr. Hero’s face fades when he sees the uneasy way that all of the others are staring at the hives, Captain Hero Sir Jr. backing away and shaking his head slowly, soft murmurs of ‘no, no, no’ sounding as he and Wind exchange looks.

Mr. Hero crosses his arms. “You’re not all afraid of bees, are you?”

Guilty glances are exchanged between the heroes.

“To be fair,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. raises one hand, looking every inch the over-grown child that he is. “They sting.”

The simple statement has Mr. Hero blinking slowly in disbelief as the others all nod along, murmurs of agreement humming along with the bees as the vet stares in shock. “You’re all scared of bees?” A nervous shuffle spreads through the group, worsening as several of the fuzzy insects in question begin to make their way over. “Unbelievable.” Mr. Hero breathes, throwing his hands up.

“They- they sting.” Ravio reminds him, shivering as several of the creatures in question begin to land on Mr. Hero’s arms and hands, tiny les crawling along as the insects look for their favored snack in the hero’s grasp.

Mr. Hero raises a hand. “Look,” He almost sounds pleading. “Sky, pities sakes, it’s like a hummingbird!”

That seems to work on Mr. Chosen Hero, who peers forwards carefully, but none of the others are convinced.

It’s nervous glances that are thrown around the house by the heroes.

The bees followed Mr. Hero inside and even by his own admission he can’t force them back out without upsetting them, so instead he lets them hover around his ears and crawl over his fingers, an odd little expression on his face as they do so.

Ravio and the heroes give him a wide berth.

“Okay.” Mr. Traveler Hero frowns. “Is Legend being weird, or is that just me?”

“He’s always like this.” Ravio sighs, clutching his scarf in both hands and worrying the fringe he’d sewn onto this one. “You should see the lawnmowers.”

The heroes share a look. “Lawnmowers?”

“Deer.” He replies, an easy smile pulling at previously tensed features. “All sorts of forest animals really. It’s a nice help, but I can’t stand the bees.”

“Ah.”

A giggle breaks their focus, and shocked faces whip around to where Mr. Hero is curled up in his chair, cheeks pink as bees swarm over him, buzzing happily while the vet giggles and chortles softly, muffled complaints sounding from behind his hands. “Ladies, please! I’m-” Another laugh breaks the silence, violet eyes glittering in the fading light of the kitchen as Legend reaches up to gently remove a bee from where it’s crawling over the tip of his ear.

“The vet’s ticklish.” Mr. Rancher breathes, mischief lighting a dangerous fire in his eyes as he watches Legend plead with his insect friends to leave him alone.

“Oh yes!” The mischief is echoed in Mr. Chosen Hero’s crystal blue gaze as he winks. “Very.”

Soft titters and gentle laughs sound and the rest are drawn close as the vet playfully bats away the bees, begging and pleading between laughs as buzzes that could almost be laughter sound.

One of the tiny things settles on Mr. Smithy’s nose, humming lightly as the smithy stares at t in horror before buzzing off again harmlessly.

The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Hero makes extra certain to close the window while Ravio sets out fresh tea and biscuits, accompanied by warmed honey.

Mr. Hero isn’t safe however, and Mr. Chosen Hero makes a point of proving how ticklish the vet can be when he gently rubs his fingers over the tips of Mr. Hero’s ears. The honey wand drizzles sweet syrup everywhere as a startled and breathy laugh sounds, his friend batting off a grinning Mr. Cosen Hero and begging for him to stop.

“Sky! Sky please! Oh golly! Dad! Stop!”

When at last the caped hero releases Mr. Hero it’s with a beaming flush over his face while the vet groans against the hardwood table, honey absolutely everywhere.

“Quite buzzy there, honeybee.” Ravio chuckles, grin spreading wider at the half-hearted scowl sent his way.

[daydreamingatnight209]

Okay so this was a passion project that I really wanted to write, I probably won’t do another and I still don’t feel comfortable writing smut for other people so please do not request it!

Minors please do not read or engage with this post as it is for 18+ only!

Also a big thank you to @erin-bo-berin for helping and encouraging me to continue this project!

Feedback is always welcome! ✨💕

“Alpha-Male Bullshit”

Part 1

Azriel x Female Reader - Part 1

Fandom - ACOTAR

Warnings - Violence, sexual themes, 18+ only, minor spoilers for ACOSF, angst and fluff! 💞☁️

———————————————————————

Lucien Vanserra was a terrible flirt; not because he wasn’t good at it, but because he was constantly flirting with me.

In the beginning I went along with it; I was bored and felt lonely. Cassian had Nesta, everyone knew Rhys had Feyre and Nyx their sweet baby boy, Elain kept busy with her garden and I barely saw our spymaster.

I split my time between training and reading in my chambers.

So, what harm could a bit of flirty banter do between friends?

I didn’t think it would do anything, but Lucien is certainly consistent.

I had a rare free day and found myself in a quiet corner of the library ran by the High Priestess ,Clotho.

It was one of my favourite places to be. The noise in my head stopped, all the pressure and responsibility’s for the court just faded away. I am transported to a land far away.

I was halfway through a steamy romance that Nesta had given me a couple of days ago. We stayed up most nights talking about books and how Cassian had made it his mission to try each technique in the book for Nesta’s pleasure. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what he was doing, Nesta made that very clear but it was certainly good fun. It made me laugh but it also flushed my body with an incredible sadness. These books were about as close of a love life that I had.

I was lost in my head and the fictional visions that I created with the words on the page when I heard a familiar voice. It made me jump slightly and I heard his deep laugh.

“I knew Nesta loved smut, but I didn’t think your innocent little mind liked it...but then again, I’m sure that pretty little mouth isn’t all that innocent is it?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and turn to face him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my dear”

I smirk and snap my book back open.

“Are you hoping to live out some of those scenes in those books of Nesta’s like she now is?”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. A moment passed and I feel his breath on my neck.

“If so, you know where to find me.” He whispers in my ear, before pressing a nimble kiss on my neck and spinning on his heel to walk away.

I released a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and groaned in frustration.

Placing my bookmark back in between the pages, I rose from the chair and left the comforting walls of the library, waving goodbye to the passing priestesses.

I wander aimlessly around the property, taking in the cool atmosphere. The training ring was empty, or so I thought. As I approached it, I spotted a familiar stature. His shadows swirling around his figure as he went through his training exercises.

I sat on the rocks beside the ring as he comes to a stand-still.

“Are you okay Y/N?” He asks softly.

I smile and rub my eyes.

“Yes, I’m just hiding from Lucien. He’s definitely spending way too much time with Rhys and Cassian. He sounds exactly like them.

But , maybe flirting with him could be fun. No one else pays much attention around here to me anyway”

Wherever Azriel goes in his head, my remark seemed to snap him away from his flyaway thoughts.

His eyes blazed and he took a warrior stance. He chest puffed and looked ready to fly at a moments notice.

“Do you need me to have a word with him?”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his overprotective response.

“No Az, it’s okay. I don’t think he fancies losing his other eye. Thank you anyway”

He just nods and returns back to his exercises.

I take this as my cue to leave.

————————————

Nesta finds me in my room later that evening and informs me that Rhys has planned a family dinner and I am required to attend.

She then prances off to her own chambers.

I rummage through my closet and pick out a gown that had fallen down the back.

It was a deep blue, that sparkled in the correct light. It plunged, exposing more of my breasts than usual and the slit started just passed my thigh, with the material of the dress hugging my body tightly.

Mor had gifted it to me last winter solstice but I hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet. No time like the present, I suppose.

I didn’t have time to style my hair dramatically, so I let my long light brown curls fall loosely down my back.

I fiddled around to find a matching bag and heels before slowly descending down the glass staircase.

All eyes were on me as I entered the dining room. The room was eerily silent.

Panic slowly begins to envelope me.

“It’s not too much is it?” I squeak.

Lucien stands and almost knocks down his chair.

“Absolutely not! My god Y/N I thought the wine would be what loosened my tongue tonight, but it looks like that dress is what’s gonna do it instead.

Unbeknown to me, Azriel’s shadows swamped around, doing their best to keep my modesty protected from Lucien’s lewd comments.

“All bark, no bite Lucien. What a shame” I shoot back and take my place beside Elain.

Azriel was seated across from Elain and did his best to contain his rage against Lucien.

I noticed this sudden shift of tension in the room between the two males but decided that now was not the time to bring it up. Especially not in front of the family.

Elain however didn’t seem to have this incentive and piped up.

“Are you okay, Az?” She asks sweetly. She attempts to take his hand. Azriel lets her hold his hand for a millisecond, before quickly pulling away.

I knew he was insecure about his hands and how they have seen years of battle, yet that wasn’t what bothered me most.

What bothered me most, was hearing my nickname for Azriel fall out of Elain’s mouth so casually.

It wasn’t that I disliked Elain, in fact I was happy for her. She is happy and healthy, was quick to adapt to the ways of Fae and everyone in the court had watched her confidence grow tremendously.

Yes, I was happy for her. Yet every time I caught her talking with Azriel, a wave of jealousy would come over me.

Elain didn’t want Lucien and Azriel didn’t want me, not in that way at least.

Everyone was on their way to a happy ending... everyone but me.

I let out a small cough and continue with the evening. Lucien kept up with his filthy ways and I kept up my responses. Cassian laughed with Rhys and Feyre discussed baby clothes with Nesta.

It felt as time had stopped, as I drunk in moment.

Eventually everyone slid off one by one. Amren and Varian first and soon the rest followed.

Mor invited me to her room so that we could spend some time together. I respectfully declined, desperate to climb into my bed.

——————————

Azriel couldn’t sleep. He stood on the balcony and stared into the distance. It was a clear night, the stars shined brightly above him.

As trained as Azriel was, he was still no match for his High Lord’s stealth.

Not that he would admit it to anymore, but his heart missed a beat when he suddenly heard Rhysand’s voice boom behind him.

“Okay Az, what the hell is going on around here? Seriously I have Elain basically drooling over you, Lucien Vanserra flirting with y/n and she’s flirting BACK, and you’re strung tighter than an Illyrian bow”

Azriel wasn’t ready to admit the truth but if he didn’t soon then he had no idea how the hell he would cope, especially after seeing you at dinner earlier. It took all of his strength to remain seated and not knock Lucien from his seat. His cock had strained against his pants so much that it had become painful. He felt Ferrell and you didn’t have a clue.

So Azriel turned around, folded his wings, and stood straight.

“Y/N is my mate”

It took Rhysand a moment to adjust to what he had just heard.

He clapped his brother on the shoulder and cheered, but his celebration was short lived when he saw the sour look on Azriel’s face.

“Okay ... so why do look like you’ve just been slapped in the face with a fish?”

“Because she’s absolutely oblivious! You’ve seen it yourself, the way she is around Lucien. Just because his mate doesn’t want him doesn’t mean he is entitled to mine!” Azriel explodes and doesn’t give Rhys a chance to respond before he launches himself into the night sky.

He spends the night flying around the city before returning at early dawn.

He is surprised to find Y/N stood outside his bedroom door.

She spins around before he could call her name.

You flash a smile that could bring him to his knees.

“I felt your shadows behind me.” You giggle.

“Anyway, I am only here to tell you that Rhys and Feyre are heading down to the cabin for the night. I said we would look after baby Nyx. Is that okay?”

Azriel tried to focus on what you were saying and not your scent. He just nods in response and as you hop towards him. You fling your arms around him and hug.

Azriel just prayed to the saints that you couldn’t feel his member begging to be released beneath his trousers.

————————————————

Nyx was certainly a handful, he was growing quickly and wanted to explore the world. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to crawl which meant keeping him away from pretty much everything in the house. I was just glad he hadn’t learnt how to use his wings yet.

Eventually he powered down and settled in my lap, he was fed, clean and happy. Meanwhile I learnt that I definitely wasn’t ready for children yet.

“How is he?” Azriel yawned as Nyx’s eyes slowly dropped shut, his thumb in his mouth.

I cradled the small boy in my arms as Azriel sat beside me.

“I will go put him to bed in a moment, he just looks so peaceful” I whispered.

Az just laughed.

“You weren’t saying that before when he was destroying the place”

I roll my eyes and gently lift my body up from the sofa before walking to the nursery.

When I entered the living quarters again, I found Az with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Want one?” He asks.

I shrug. “Sure, why not”

We sat in a comfortable silence before I was brave enough to speak up.

“So, are you going to tell me why you have been so uptight lately? Is it work?”

Azriel’s comfortable posture, stiffens and he is back on high alert.

Seeing this, I couldn’t help but feel guilty.

I shouldn’t force him to talk, it’s not like he’d want to open up to me anyway.

I decide to change the subject.

“Is it true that the bigger a wingspan, the bigger the dick?”

I watch as Azriel splutters and does his best not to leak his drink over the cream coloured carpet.

“I erm... what?!”

I laugh at the reaction and start to inch closer to him.

I’m high on liquid courage, no way would I ever do this sober.

“Feyre told me that fae wings are super sensitive”

I wrap my legs over each side and place myself down on his lap. He grips me in place and grunts slightly but doesn’t say anything.

I delicately run two fingers down his right wing, they are soft, almost like velvet, yet they shine when the light is right.

“Nesta even said that some men cum from a single touch... if in the right place” I whisper in his ear, placing small light kisses down his neck as my fingers continue to dance over every individual feather. His hips buck upwards involuntarily, and I smirk.

“Well it was something like that anyways”

I remove myself from his lap to drink from my wine glass. Azriel sat grinding his teeth, showing incredible restraint.

I head over to the kitchen and place the empty dishes and glasses in the sink, staying in just the right places so Az still got a full view.

He suddenly springs up from his own seat and follows me into the kitchen. He corners me and I try to remain stoic.

He picks me up like I weigh nothing and rests his body in between my legs.

He uses one hand to brush my hair out of my face and the other to casually trace patterns on my thigh.

His voice was low, and his shadows danced behind him.

“Rumour has it, the bigger the wingspan the bigger dick, right? Well Rhys likes to claim he has the biggest but one drunken night we measured... I’m forbidden to tell anyone this but… I won” he winks and suddenly pulls away acting so very nonchalant.

“The wing thing, I personally don’t know because apparently I haven’t had the right bed mate for that”

There was no stopping me after that. I hook my feet around his knees and use all my strength to pull his body back to mine.

Our faces crash together as we kiss and our tongues battle for dominance. My hands roam his body as I slip them under his shirt. His hands copy my actions and I couldn’t help but groan into him as he gets familiar.

Eventually we pull away for air and our eyes lock for what felt like forever and a day. This unfamiliar feeling of euphoria rushed over my body, attacking my senses. It attacked every inch of me. It felt as if my soul would burst open for the world to see.

The sudden panic that came straight after snapped me back into reality. I broke away from the male in front of me as I gasped for air. Silent tears ran down my face.

I pushed Azriel away with force and ran from the room.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry I can’t-“

I ran to my room and collapsed down the back of the door.

What was happening?

———————————————————

PART 2 is on its way!!

[comfortwriting]

Prompt 13 - G.W

Prompt 13: Tears streamed down your face

George Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, cock warming and swearing.

About: The Reader and George are dating and George keeps pranking her, one of his pranks embarrasses her and gets her into trouble, making her cry. The reader decides to break up with George as a prank but he takes it so seriously he does anything to get her back - when she tells him it was just a prank George storms off and then they have cute, cuddly slow sex.

Masterlist, Prompt List, Request Rules

Sitting in the cold and gloomy dungeon, you tried your best to concentrate on everything Snape was teaching but every now and then you swore you could feel something crawl from inside your shoes and up your leg. 

Instead of making a scene or drawing attention to yourself, you ignored the crawling sensation, only for it to get worse. Squirming in your seat, you could hear quiet laughs from across the room. 

Your boyfriend, George Weasley sitting next to his brother Fred and his best friend Lee, had his eyes locked on you, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t you dare.” you mouthed, glaring at him. 

Being the girlfriend of one of the twins was all fun and games until you were the one in the line of fire. George would take it upon himself to prank you in the most cruellest ways, but he was pushing your boundaries today.

He knew how you felt about creepy crawly insects, you were terrified of them and they made you sick to your stomach - you and his younger brother Ron had that in common, especially when it came down to spiders. 

“Miss Y/L/N.” Snape drawled, the whole class now staring at you.

You withdrew your focus from George and focused on your professor, his intense stare making you shrink in your seat. 

“One more disruption from you and you will find yourself in my office tomorrow evening. Fifty points from Y/H.”

You bowed your head and stared at your empty cauldron and potions book, ignoring the stares and laughs from George.

The crawling sensation intensified and spread all over your neck and back, you reached back and pulled the centipede from your neck, realising what was crawling all over your body, you began to screaming and jump out of your seat - feeling the number of insects multiply the more you freaked out.

The nausea pooled in your stomach and you could feel bile piling up in your throat, your heart pounding, tears streamed down your face whilst you hyperventilated.

Snape’s furious expression burned into you, the whole class roaring with laughter and pointing at you, George instantly regretted what he had done, seeing you in such a distressed state wasn’t funny.

“I’ve had enough of you, Y/L/N.” Snape walked over to you and tapped his wand against your shoulder, permanently putting a stop to George’s little prank. 

The centipedes and spiders went limp and fell to the floor. 

The whole class fell silent, the only noises they could hear was you crying and Snape’s heavy breathing. 

“Get out!” Snape raised his voice, surprising everyone as he wasn’t the type to shout. 

 Grabbing your potions book and clinging onto it for dear life, you rushed out of the cold dungeon, pushing past students in the hall.

“Whoever practiced that little experiment will find themselves in detention.” Snape stared at George, deducting points from Gryffindor House.

Still shaken up from potions yesterday, you stared at your plate of breakfast not wanting to make eye contact with anyone out of embarrassment. 

George entered the Great Hall and ran over to you after you avoided him since Snape kicked you out, sitting next to you he tried to put his arm around you but you flinched. 

“I’m so sorry my love.” 

You shook your head “leave me alone, George. I’m bloody mortified and I’ve got detention now thanks to you!”

George frowned and tried to take hold of your hand, you pulled your hand away quickly and decided to give him a taste of his medicine.

“Can you stop trying to comfort me?” you snapped “I’m not your bloody girlfriend anymore, alright!” 

George’s heart skipped a beat, his hands started sweating and a lump formed in his throat, tears pricked at his eyes.

“w-what?” 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” you hissed “I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Standing up you grabbed your books and continued with your day, trying to ignore George the best that you could.

Throughout the day George kept trying to make things up to you, if you were struggling on a paper or didn’t have the right ingredients for your cauldron, you would suddenly have the answers you needed when you returned to you seat.

George tried to catch your gaze, trying to bewitch you with his loving and longing glances but you ignored them, shaking your head and laughing at him.

Scrubbing the large grimy cauldrons piled up in the dungeons without magic, George tried to speak to you every chance he could when Snape would get interrupted by other professors and students. 

“Please take me back” he pleaded, wiping another cauldron clean “I said I was sorry and I’m doing everything I can to make it up to you.”

You bit your lip, you did feel bad for toying with him, especially after he got caught bothering the house-elves for your favourite treats by Mr Filch. 

You blew a strand hair out of your face, breathless and tired from all the scrubbing and elbow grease. 

You sighed and stopped scrubbing, facing George. “It was a bloody joke.” 

George’s soft face dropped and turned hard “you what?”

“I didn’t actually break up with you, it was a prank.” You admitted.

George stopped wiping the cauldron and stared at you, he shook his head and stood up.

“I can’t believe you, you rotten git.”

Snape walked back to the desk and tried to stop George from leaving as he pushed past him.

“Leave now and you’ll be here again tomorrow evening, with an additional one hundred points deducted from Gryffindor.”

“Shove off” George replied, storming off.

You felt a heavy weight sit on your chest, feeling guilty for hurting his feelings.

Turning around you continued to clean up, working twice as hard to fill in for George’s absence, Snape’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

George laid in his bed, messing around with his wand.

Sneaking through the dorm rooms, you finally reached George’s room and sat on the end of his bed.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly, stroking his soft hair.

“It’s fine.” He answered sternly, turning around to face you. “This doesn’t make us even though.”

You cocked an eyebrow at your stubborn boyfriend. “Will this?”

Climbing on top of him, your lips softly grazed against him, kissing him softly. Your hands got tangled in his hair, the kiss getting heavier and sloppier.

George’s hands quickly landed on your waist, messing with the hem of your skirt. Your hands moved away from his hair and down to the buttons on his shirt, undoing his tie and little buttons.

The room became more cold as you removed more layers of your clothes, George peppered kisses all down your neck and sucked on your collarbone, causing you to moan.

The two of you now naked, pulled the covers over you. George’s long salvia coated digits rubbed between your folds, then circling over your clit before he started to finger you teasingly.

You took his hard cock into your hand and pumped gently, his pre-cum leaking out over the head.

George bit his lip and removed his fingers now coated in your juices, letting go of his cock, George pulled you on top of him and he lined up his hard cock to your entrance.

“Ready when you are” he breathed out, smirking up at you.

Biting your lip, you blushed and slowly sat down on his cock. The feeling of George filling you up caused two of you to moan out in pleasure, your sex face turning George on even more.

“You’re so bloody beautiful.” He moaned.

Riding George slowly, the room filled with your moans, one of your hands resting against his cheek - tracing circles into his skin with your thumb. You moved your thumb over his bottom lip, stroking it softly before George took it into his mouth, sucking softly.

George rocked your hips back and forth with his grip on you, moaning as you arched backwards and picking up your pace, his big cock rubbing against your G-Spot. 

“You feel so good” you moaned out.

George blushed and quickly pulled you down to kiss him, he slowly pushed you off him and pulled you to lie down next to him.

“turn around” he ordered. 

Turning around, your back facing him, George rubbed his cock teasingly against your folds before pushing himself inside you, his arms wrapped around you.

“feels so much closer like this.” he breathed out, kissing your neck, moaning softly.

George’s cock twitched inside of you with every thrust, causing your walls to tighten around him. His warm embrace made you feel safe and warm.  Continuing to fuck you, you pushed your lower half out even more, crying out with each slam. 

“I’m so close.” the heaviness forming within your lower stomach.

George grunted “me too love, cum all over my cock.”

Letting go and releasing all of the building pressure from inside of you, George also released inside of you, both of you a hot, worn out, sweaty mess. 

You tried to pull away from him but he stopped you, still inside of you.

“Don’t move” he breathed out “I’m enjoying the cuddle”

You giggled and kissed his arms that were locked around you. 

“Are we even now, Georgie?” you asked.

You could tell a grin had spread across his face “I reckon we are, yeah.”

[hyunnows]

love, [Y/N] | jjk

► PAIRING: Jungkook x reader

► CONTENT/WARNINGS: angst, mentions of fluffy memories, mc death, lots of Jungkook tears, best friends!au, mentions of unrequited love

► WORD COUNT: 2k+

► RATING: pg13

► SUMMARY: "It’s not fair that he was holding the last of you in his hands, unable to focus on anything other than the last words he’ll ever receive from you."

↳ A/N: I got this idea at 2:36 am and I don't know where it came from but oh well. This was meant to be a 300-word blurb and we ended up at 2k lol. I haven't written anything for Jungkook compared to Tae, and honestly, this maknae has been climbing my bias list so here's a semi-self-indulgent fic filled with angst and crying! I hope you enjoy it, please feel free to leave feedback and reblog! Also, STREAM BUTTER!

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Shaking with fear, Jungkook gripped your hand tightly, tears pouring out his red eyes as your patient monitor fluctuated slightly. With a quivering lip, he croaks, “C'mon [Y/N], wake up. For me? Please…”

He feels your small fingers squeeze his own gently, weakly, and hope beams across his face. But just as soon as the hope had come, it vanished, your paling fingers going stiff in his palm. The once steady beeping now a quickly accelerating sequence, the sound ringing in the brunet boy's ears as his eyes go wide and breath cuts short.

He feels the nurses pull at him, trying to drag him out the room and he thrashes against them, his nails digging into your hospital bed with all their might until his knuckles turn white and his vision blurs. Loud sobs rack through his body as he slumps in the nurses’ arms, pressing the balls of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears and the burning. His cries almost choke him, the occasional cough jerking his body harshly.

When he sees the familiar face of the doctor, he prays that the downcast gaze and frown don't mean what he thinks.

“[L/N] [Y/N],” Seokjin takes a breath, his own eyes beginning to water at the words he's about to utter, “time of death: 2 am… I'm sorry Jungkook. I did everything, I-I tried every voltage and pumped her with liquids a-and everything I could d-do—I couldn't save her. I'm so—so sorry.”

It's like his entire world has crumbled in a second. His arms and chest are suddenly heavy, his lips, throat, and face feel dry and dehydrated, and his eyes can't decide if they want to be open or closed because of the stinging sensation they feel when he tries either. Sitting on the floor in front of your room, he takes the hand Jin outstretched and wobbles inside, only to fall back down the moment he sees your dull figure.

He doesn't care that a small crowd can see him babbling incoherently as he tries to apologize to you through his sniffles and whimper, crawling to your hand and lacing his fingers through yours.

Eventually, Taehyung and Jimin pick him up and drag him out of the building you took your last breath in. Jungkook didn't try to resist, knowing he was in no shape to put up a fight or drive himself home. He needed to get out of there anyway, the smell of death only he could detect suffocating him slowly.

On his way upstairs, Taehyung holds him back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a short stack of envelopes—maybe two or three—rubber-banded together and hands them to the younger. “Her first day in the ER, she m-made me promise to give you these if she—if she… You know…”

Hearing they were yours, he takes them gently and swiftly, immediately holding them close as if they were his lifeline. He gives Taehyung a silent, stiff nod before turning and dragging himself to his room.

He doesn't open them right away, taking his time to admire your adorable calligraphy and observing every smudge or erased pencil mark you'd left on their light material.

He's not surprised to find every letter addressed to him, because it wouldn't be the first time you two had given each other messages the old-fashioned way, and he smiled softly at the “before you read” attached to the first envelope.

If you're not Jeon Jungkook, please don't read these. If you are, know that I'm still with you, in these letters, in your heart, our memories and that I will always be here, even though I'm sorry I can't physically be here with you right now. These are letters I've written to you, but never sent. They're from the bottom of my heart and they say everything I've ever wanted to tell you.

—[Y/N]

His heart beats harder as he opens the first letter, doing his best not to tear the envelope and keep it perfectly intact for him to save.

There are two Polaroids safety-pinned to the letter, both with his face and yours smiling brightly at each other. He gently unclips them, tucking them safely into the [Y/N]-specially decorated sleeve. He breathes in deeply and unfolds the letter, immediately tearing up at your handwriting on the wilting paper.

Dear Jungkook,

I know you don't think it's cool or modern to send letters, so I won't send this.

Anyway, I want to thank you for always being there for me, my big, strong, human-shoulder-tissue. I couldn't be luckier than I am to have you as my best friend.

And I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I love you more than anyone or anything in this world. You're the diamond to my sky, the sun to my earth, and the person I would choose to spend the rest of my life with.

In other words, I'm in love with you, Jeon. I wish you were in love with me, but I'm already the happiest girl in the world being by your side every day.

Your Best Freind,

[Y/N]

His heart pounds against his ribs, because you had been in love with him. You had wanted him to be the last face you'd ever see. You were right in front of him, your heart on your sleeve for who knows how long, and he hadn't known until you were dead. His face contorted into one of pain at the reality, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears, taking long, shaky breaths before opening the second letter.

This note is considerably newer than the first, its edges still white and crisp, but the deepness of the creases tells him it's at least a few months old.

Dear Jungkookie,

Lately, I've been sick—which you know because I've told you. I haven't told you about my feelings yet because I don't want to scare you or pressure you, but I'm probably going to die before I ever get to tell you these things.

Since I told you how I felt in the last letter, I'm going to try and describe why in this letter. Reason number one, your presence. You always manage to just enter a dark, tense room and make it so much brighter and more comfortable. I don't know if it’s your smile or your laugh or the way you don't care if you're embarrassed or not, but you just manage to make everyone feel comfortable in themselves.

Reason number two, your kindness. I had never seen someone run back inside, get an entire table's worth of food, and give it away before. You're always so willing to give, despite the cost. I hope you never change.

Reason number three, it's kind of odd but I fell in love with your voice. Not just the way it sounds pretty when you sing, but the way it has the power to comfort whoever you’re singing to. I’ve always been able to come to you for support and comfort.

Reason number four is you know how to turn a bad day into a good one. You can talk to anyone who’s down for five minutes and you’ll turn them into a giggling, grinning mess.

Reason number five, you’ve always made me feel loved. Even though our entire relationship has been platonic—at least on your side—you’ve always checked up on me, held me, and made sure I knew I was enough and I can’t thank you enough for that.

Number six is your passion. You always put your all into everything you do. Be it making breakfast for the boys or helping me with a project I put off until the last minute, you make sure it’s all or nothing.

Seven is that you taught me how to love unconditionally. I always believed in falling in love and finding the one, but I never knew how intense it felt to be able to give your all to someone and not expect a single thing in return—until I met you. From the way your nose scrunches when you smile, to how you tilt your head when you’re confused, I love it all. From the best thing about you to the worst, it’s all you, and I wouldn’t want you to ever change. Every scar and blemish, each pore and lash, I’ve fallen in love with all of them because they make you, you.

I know you don’t feel the same, and in complete honesty, I love you so much I don’t even care. As long as you’re happy and I’m able to spend as much of my time by your side I’m happy.

He chokes on a sob when he finishes the second letter, tears dampening the card stock as he shivers. His heart clenches harder as he folds it back up, giving both pictures a once over before pinning them back on the letter.

Opening up the last envelope, a cry racks through his body, and he’s ugly crying now. The necklace he’d given you perfectly washi-taped against the letter. He pulls it off, tucking it tightly into his palm, and holds his breath. This time, the letter is a small, short piece of paper folded in half once.

He almost can’t read your small, dainty handwriting through his bubbling tears, but manages.

Hi Jungkook. Did you see the necklace?

It’s the one you bought me for my fifteenth birthday, that I told you I had lost. For a while, I had, and I remember I was too scared to tell you, but you noticed before I could anyway. I was so relieved you weren’t mad at me because I didn’t know what I would do if you were. I still don’t.

Anyway, the point of this short, last letter is to tell you how I want you to remember me. I don’t want you guys to think of me as your sickly friend who died when you were in your twenties… but I want you to remember the good memories we made together. I want you to remember the day we met, when I accidentally broke your bike and when we were both grounded for four months for sneaking out of our houses for our first party. I want you to remember how we got sick together because you couldn’t let me walk home alone in the rain, but you couldn’t drive and we both forgot jackets and umbrellas. I want you to remember the day you forgave me for losing the most precious thing anyone has ever given me, because that’s the day I fell in love with you.

This paper’s running out of space so I’m going to wrap this up. I want you to remember everything good about our time together, and not what ended it. Don’t think about how I’m gone, because I’m still with you, after death. These letters, the photos, and this necklace are what I’m leaving behind for you to keep. Don’t cry when you think of me, don’t think of the fact that we’ve been making our last memories, just don’t forget me.

Jungkook clutches the necklace tighter, afraid to drop it. Not only had he lost you, but he’d also missed out on the opportunity to be with you because he’d been too scared to ask you out while you were alive. He’d been in love with you since you two were eleven, tried to confess to you when you were fifteen, and lost you at twenty-three.

It’s not fair, he decides, it’s not fair that your love never got a real chance and it never would. It’s not fair that all these years you thought your feelings were one-sided when he reciprocated them ten-fold. It’s not fair that he was holding the last of you in his hands, unable to focus on anything other than the last words he’ll ever receive from you.

He sucks in a deep breath, barely croaking out your sign-off, “Love, [Y/N].”

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[firefly-in-darkness]

Worst Idea Ever [Part Four]

Characters → Y/N & Bucky Barnes, Other Marvel Characters.

Series Summary → Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what’s the worst that could happen?

Part FourSummary → Y/N takes Bucky to a place from her past, meeting people that he never imagined Y/N to be friends with and someone else from her past tries to come back into her life.

Word Count → 3k.

Part Two Warnings → 18+, swearing, angst, jealousy, illusion to sexy things. Two idiots.

Beta → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Series Taglist  → Open, just drop me an ask!

A/N → And once again, I wrote the first draft and left it in my docs like I’d posted it... thank you @whitestarbucky​ for being late to the party and reminding me that I actually hadn’t posted it.

Series List // Marvel List // Masterlist

Previously in Part Three: He sunk back into the pillow, his hand dragging down his face. Bucky wasn’t sure what the billionaire genius was referring to, but he felt guilty for whatever Y/N had to witness of him and Jackie. He thought going home with someone else would help quash his feelings but now that he was sober, he knew that it was a stupid idea. He only felt guilt and remorse for what had happened the previous night.

Hooking up with a woman in front of Y/N was the worst idea ever.

The breeze from the rental car window was just enough to keep Y/N alert as she drove the last stretch of their five-hour journey, well maybe a bit longer if you counted going through the whole airport process. Y/N had felt tense the second she met Bucky at JFK and the thought of being confined to a small space that was thousands of feet in the air.

Y/N didn’t want to talk about how things had become uncomfortable after Peter and Gwen’s rehearsal dinner. She was embarrassed but she also had avoided the subject completely when she met him the next day for the wedding. Bucky’s familial duties took him away from her which, to her benefit, meant that she hardly saw him. 

The celebration was enjoyable but there was an annoying voice in the back of her head telling her to talk to Bucky about everything. But she couldn’t, he was her friend of over a decade. Plus, now that they were on their way to another wedding, it had already been three weeks since they last saw each other. 

Bucky had probably forgotten about the incident, and he was too drunk to see that he and Jackie hurt her. She should just brush it under the carpet, right?

The journey wasn’t as bad as Y/N thought; she was able to lose herself in her book or the music playlist that Nat had sent to her a few days ago. ‘Perfect for long journeys’, she’d said. All the while, Bucky lounged in the seat beside her, reading on his kindle or chatting about the usual nonsense that was his dating life.

It was as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed, and Y/N knew that she was just overthinking the possibility of them crossing the line of friendship. It was only a side effect of their fake dating arrangement and being in romantically charged places.

The motel parking lot gravel crunched under the tyres as Y/N pulled in. Relief flooded her and she sluggishly climbed out, stretching her arms high and shaking out her legs. The freedom from the cramped space behind the wheel didn’t alleviate heaviness in her muscles and all that she craved was a nap.

Bucky headed to the reception to pick up the key, and within minutes they were able to access the room, and Y/N instantly flopped face-first onto the bed. Kicking her shoes off and shuffling up the mattress, she pulled the side of the duvet and rolled over into a cocoon and let the nap take hold of her.

Bucky clambered through the door with Y/N’s luggage as well as his own, muttering to himself about her being a lazy pain in his ass. But when he saw her peacefully sleeping form on the bed, he couldn’t help but smile. The way she had cocooned herself in the covers, and how her soft snores puffed out her lips; it was adorable.

Then the guilt reared its head. He’d tried to approach the subject of the rehearsal dinner at the airport but from the tension in her body and the intense focus on reading her book, he knew that she wouldn’t talk. She was embarrassed, and he would have been too if he’d been caught with a sex toy at a rehearsal dinner.

Deep down, he knew something else was bothering Y/N. She was too focused on the road ahead instead of listening to his woeful attempts at dating. His thoughts kept reverting to the moment he kicked Jackie out after awaking to Y/N’s text messages; he felt like he’d upset Y/N, disappointed her but wasn’t that what this was all about? They were being one another’s company until they found someone they wanted to date. That’s what this was.

Since Peter’s wedding, fond moments Bucky had shared with Y/N had started to dance behind his eyes. Their shared memories from over the years playing on repeat at night. Making breakfast together while the rest of their friends groaned about their hangovers in the other room, the candid way she’d grab his prosthetic arm and he always felt a rush of warmth when he realised that once again, it didn’t bother her. 

That was before all the technological adaptations to connect to his nervous system. She touched his arm like it was real. And once those adaptations were made, Bucky felt her tender touch and the soft skin of her palm. He felt at ease, calm, at peace even, with her compared to the rest of the people in his life, the world. He was whole with her.

A horn blasted in the parking lot and caught Bucky’s attention before he refocused on Y/N’s sleeping form. Bucky wasn’t sure about his feelings anymore, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of their pact or whether Y/N felt something more. He could be just imagining it. She had never judged him, had always been by his side at college. 

They were partners in crime, as thick as thieves. And since then, they’d drifted into a more casual friendship but maybe there could be something there. Stop it. He berated and carried on unloading the car, focused intently on collecting their belongings.

Y/N felt better than before but she still felt drowsy, and the flickering television showing an old western film lulled her further into the bed. Absentmindedly, she pulled Bucky’s arm around her shoulder and nuzzled into his chest. The smell of his cologne added to the comfort she already found herself in, then she realised what she had done.

Now that she was there, she didn’t know what to do, she was frozen in place. She could remove her arms from his waist, or maybe pretend she was still asleep and roll away again. The embarrassment tingled at her cheeks and the feel of his toned stomach under her forearm made her core ache with want. She snapped out of it when she felt Bucky shuffle away from her.

“Erm, what are you doing?” Bucky frowned at her, seriousness in his features.

“It’s just a hug, I’m half asleep, chill out.” Y/N pretended to not let the hurt of rejection show and put it back onto Bucky, “Do you not like cuddles or something?”

Bucky unfurled his arm and shook his head at her, “I don’t wanna cuddle you.” 

Y/N sighed dramatically and flopped back onto bed dramatically, “Fine, don’t crawl over to me when it gets cold in here tonight.”

Bucky had lied, he did like cuddles. He wanted to cuddle Y/N with every fibre of his being. He didn’t want to get used to it, to the feel of Y/N’s warm body pressed against him, only to have it be taken away. He didn’t want to miss her touch once he had been graced with it. He wasn’t good enough for her, anything more than friendship wouldn’t work. It surely couldn't?

He turned off the television and decided to leave her to sleep in peace. He knew for certain that the next time she woke up, she’d be cranky because she hadn’t eaten. With the fear of Y/N throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old, he headed out into the town to find some food for the drama queen.

Bucky threw on his jacket and grabbed the keys, Y/N’s phone flashing drew his attention. A notification: an envelope with Dean bolded beside it. He knew that he wouldn’t read it, no matter how tempting the voices in the back of his head were telling him to see what had happened since Y/N and Dean’s rendezvous at Darcy’s wedding.

Bucky, annoyed at the taunting notification, he knew Y/N’s password, it was the same for everything and he’d constantly scolded her for that. But he’d never invade her privacy. And right now, he needed to get out of the room. It was stifling and it felt like the walls had closed in around him. Y/N’s soft snores had become irritating as the recurring feeling of jealousy took over and he stormed out of the room.

A group of large men covered in tattoos with long beards, unmistakably their Harleys resting in the parking bay out the front of the venue made Y/N feel like she was finally home. It wasn’t the usual aesthetic for a wedding reception and maybe Y/N should have warned Bucky. Where’s the fun in that? She thought as she reached the entrance, but Bucky was no longer beside her.

Y/N turned to find his confused face across the sidewalk, “Come on, we’re here.”

Bucky jogged over to her, he frowned as he read the sign on the wall, “Right, we are going to a bar called Hell House that used to be a Catholic boarding school for a wedding?”

“Yes, I told you, it’s for some dear friends from when I lived here.” She ushered him inside with a giggle. “I know my way around, just follow me.”

“You said you lived in a suburb,” Bucky muttered as he walked into the dimly lit bar.

The number of people dressed similarly to the men outside was growing tenfold and Y/N could feel the tension reeling off him. She knew he wouldn’t be scared, but probably surprised by the company she kept in her hometown. They were a different, very different group of friends to those she met at college.

“Hey Chocolate Puddin’!” Y/N screamed and threw her arms around the man wiping down a table.  The man reciprocated with the usual awkward hug; not holding her too tightly in case Y/N clocked him one for feeling her up on accident again. She pulled away and gestured to her date. “And this is Bucky.”

He shook Bucky’s hand and introduced himself, “Weasel. This one just mocks me for not knowing what emojis mean.”

Y/N tugged on Bucky’s jacket to bring his ear closer and whispered, “He thought the poop emoji was chocolate ice cream or somethin’.”

“What can I get you to drink?” Weasel asked as he wiped the glasses and placed them on the bar.

“Blowjob!!” Another man shouted and spun Y/N around, pulling her away from the bar and out of Bucky’s hearing range. “Well, look at you Care Bear. Looking like a fuckable plushie.”

Weasel muttered under his breath and fixed the bailey and whipped cream shot while jealousy brewed in Bucky’s chest as he watched Y/N being picked up by the handsome man. He couldn’t react, how could he in a room full of giants and he’d hardly admitted his feelings to himself yet. 

Instead, he clutched the bottle of beer that Weasel handed him. Y/N knew these people, if she didn’t want to be manhandled then she would have done something about it. And Bucky wasn’t sure why that annoyed him more; that she was more casual with affections or that she didn’t do this with him.

Bucky turned away for a second only to turn around to see a woman grabbing Y/N’s face and pushing their faces together in a smacking kiss. His mouth dropped agape, as the women giggled and hugged one another. He needed to talk to you about what kind of place you grew up in because this was not what he pictured.

“You get used to it.” Weasel commented and held up two crossed fingers, “those three are like that. Never known a throuple like it.”

Bucky frowned, “a what?”

“He’s messing with you Buck, he’s just jealous that he never got to tap any of us. Bucky, this is Wade and Vanessa.”

It then dawned on him that the man that ordered a blow job and the woman that snogged his fake date were the newlyweds. Vanessa was one of Y/N’s oldest friends from high school and had introduced her to Wade, but never explained how. Maybe the venue had something to do with it but now he was even more curious and a little less jealous.

The four of them drank round after round at a table that had been set aside for the special couple. The table didn’t look any different to the others apart from the fact that it was probably the cleanest and the only distinguishable feature was the folded piece of paper with the words ‘reservation for wade & ness’ scrawled on it.

“So how did you two meet?” Bucky asked the couple.

“Y/N and I went our separate ways after school.” Vanessa held out her hand on the table, Y/N immediately grabbing it. “One of us sold themselves to the world of men and the other became a stripper.”

Y/N cackled, and Bucky enjoyed the carefree nature that Y/N had around this pair. She was uninhibited and more herself than he’d seen in a long time. Growing up with someone is a different type of friendship with the ones you meet at college. Bucky’s mind drifted to Steve Rogers, his childhood friend and how they were practically brothers, always getting into trouble. 

“Wade came in after finishing a job, courtesy of me.” Y/N dramatically placed her hand on her chest then looked at Bucky, “Oh right, you don’t know what Wade does for a living. So erm, basically he can be hired to help people with difficult situations rather than calling the police.”

Bucky paused and dropped the bottle onto the table with a thunk and immediately found Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t sure where this story was going but he didn’t like the sound of it at all. Not one little bit.

“My ex was causing me some hassle and Wade gave him a little scare.” Y/N beamed through her drunkenness and turned back to the couple, “and because Wade came the next night to pay his merc fees, he met Ness.”

“Oh yeah, it was that douche, Francis. Francis. Stalker shit his pants when he saw me.” Wade barked out a laugh and turned to Vanessa, muttering words into her ear. The couple becoming completely lost in one another.

Bucky turned to Y/N, “Didn’t you date Francis in college?”

Y/N hiccupped and nodded, then vacated her seat before Bucky could respond. He watched her fiddle with the dials on the jukebox while he mulled over his thoughts; why hadn’t Y/N come to him or Sam about Francis? 

He’d have to ask her when she was sober because there was no way he was going to get the information from her now or the newlyweds. They were almost tearing each other’s clothes off as they made out. 

Y/N had finally picked a track and it boomed through the speakers. Her and a group of others dancing along to the beat. Bucky left the passionate display of intimacy and joined Y/N on the makeshift dance floor which was just some tables pushed to the side.

“Buckaroo!” She crooned and pulled him into a formal hold for such an upbeat song, “So who are we hooking you up with tonight?”

Bucky was completely surprised at her comment, he had hoped that she didn’t like what had happened on their last date and how it turned out with Jackie. Then again, Dean had text her earlier. He must have read this situation completely wrong, and he didn’t want her to know that. She couldn’t know how he felt, he wasn’t sure about it either. That’s what he kept telling himself.

He decided to play along and nod towards a young woman, “what about her?”

Y/N checked over his shoulder as they spun around the small space, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Hope Summers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea unless you want to get beaten up by her dad.”

He followed Y/N’s line of sight and spotted the man glaring at him as if he knew exactly what Bucky had thought or said about his daughter. He immediately shifted Y/N around, spinning her out and back in to avoid looking into the creepy old man’s death stare.

“I need a drink,” Y/N stopped dancing, gathering her breath.

Bucky led the way to the bar and Y/N happily held onto his hand until they were met with Weasel’s agitated face as he held the corded phone to his ear before placing the receiver to his chest.

“It’s for you.” He gestured to Y/N who rounded the bar with confusion etched across her face. Nobody who knew Hellhouse's number knew she was here or would be calling because they’re all here as far as she could tell. 

Weasel kept his hand over the mouthpiece as she approached, “It’s Tyler.”

Y/N glanced to Bucky who sipped on his beer and talked to Neena, another of her high school friends that had ended up in similar work as Wade, she was nicknamed Lucky for all the ways she miraculously got out of tricky situations.

Bucky ducked closer to Neena’s, whispering into her ear and a wave of anger erupted in Y/N. She was done with being second best, Bucky was only doing this to meet other women. She wasn’t what he wanted.

Finally, she put the phone to her ear and prepared herself to listen to whatever her ex-boyfriend wanted to say. With a deep breath, she answered the call as coolly as she could.

Bucky turned back to the bar and saw the frustration on Y/N’s face growing, it wasn’t a pleasant phone call. Plus, surely, they would have rung her mobile. He scooted around the bar and approached Y/N, her back now turned from him and her fingers wrapped and unwrapped from the coil of the phone’s cord.

“Tyler, please just listen to me.” She hissed. “I am not interested. I’ve moved on.”

Bucky froze at Y/N’s words, when did she move on? And who had she moved onto? Was it that guy that she met at Darcy's wedding? Dean. The name grated his nerves. He couldn’t blame her; she was allowed to move on. Worry filled his thoughts, could he have caused Y/N to run into the arms of someone else because he hooked up with Jackie.

Y/N slammed the handset into its holder on the wall, spinning to Bucky and the moment he saw her unshed tears, he pulled her into his arms. Pushing his feelings aside, he knew that he needed to be there for her regardless of if she had moved on to someone new.

Continue Here...

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[aworldinsideaperson]

A Well Kept Secret - George Weasley (Part One)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Food mentions, talking about food, one night stand (no smut) having a child, getting pregnant, being pregnant,

Summary: A one night stand with George produces a child and a secret.

Trope Series: Secret baby.

A/N: This one is going to be in two parts (possibly three we will have to see) but I just started writing this last night and couldn’t stop so here it is. 

@izzytheninja​ @youto-believein​

It was a chilly evening in the Fall of 1997 when it all started, two lifelong friends meet in a London pub for a drink or two to take the edge off of their worries and fears as war wages around them. A red haired man sat beside a girl He’d known for the last nine years, they were nearly three drinks deep as their fingers brushed. With a soft intake of breath they looked to each other, her eyes wide as she stared up at him; his eyes had trained on hers as his tongue slid over his lips then dropped to her parted lips. That’s when he knew it was over and his life would never be the same. Little did he know how one night of pure bliss with his schoolyard crush would change both their lives in the ways that it did.

It was only one night. It was only supposed to be one night no matter the feeling that had arisen as they kissed on her bed that night and whispered “I love you” in the dark. The world was far too dangerous to start anything more than that one night and so they kept it at that though it was hardly a surprise to anyone when their glances to each other were lingering or their goodbyes just a touch too long. It was eight weeks before Y/N realized something was off.

The missed period. That’s what did it for her. The most obvious of symptoms but now as she looked down at the stick waiting for an answer things fell into place. She was sick to her stomach so often her diet consisted mostly of crackers the last week, she was exhausted though she had chalked it up to the stress of the current situations the suddenness of it started to make sense. Her mind ran through a checklist of symptoms her mother had claimed during her second pregnancy and with each check mark left her mind became more certain and as the timer went off and her eyes focused on the results she wasn’t as shocked as she should have been.

She was having George Weasley’s baby.

With a hand pressed to her stomach her mind raced. The Weasley family were targets, and England wasn’t safe. So with a single letter owled to her parents Y/N was packing her bags and was off to the states.

She settled into a small town in Missouri. Hermann, population now 2,401 with one on the way. With her life’s savings she paid cash from a tiny shack of a house in the center of town and tried to live her muggle life. At only 19 she was receiving dirty and pitying looks alike as he stomach started to grow beneath her waitress uniform.

At 29 weeks pregnant she received the news, a letter from her parents proclaiming the fall of Voldemort and the end of the war, they begged her to come home. As she looked down at her swollen stomach she hesitated and wrote them a single word response. No.

She had planned to return to London, her home for her whole life, but fear continued to stop her. Voldemort was gone, the Weasley family had lived, George had lived, her family was safe, but the thought of showing up so many months later after no words to George frightened her beyond any unforgivable curse. And so she did it alone. She gave birth to their son alone. She held a first birthday alone, and then a second, and a third all alone. Each year as his birthday drew to a close Y/N wondered if she should write to George, if she should tell him of their son, tell him about his big brown eyes and thick red hair; to tell him of all the mischief their three year old caused. And every year she remembered that it was meant to only be one night. The night had been filled with passion and confessions of love but she not only had to worry about rejection for herself but for the small boy that crawled into her bed when the wind was too loud and begged for just one more bedtime story before she turned out the light. He thought his father was gone, that he had loved him and wanted him but that now he was gone. She couldn’t put her son in a position to be rejected. Not by his own father.

And so she stayed. She stayed away from England, away from her family, away from George. Until an owl arrived on her doorstep 2 weeks after Graysen’s third birthday, an envelope at its feet. With a sigh she took the envelope inside and tore into it, inside was an invitation to her sister’s wedding. It read...

Please join us for the wedding of Alexa & Dawson

The First of September, 2001 at six o’clock in the evening

Dawson’s Family Home

Painswick England

Reception to Follow

Also inside the envelope was a letter, a plea from Alexa to come home, to “Bring Graysen and come home. Just a few weeks. Be my maid of honor and let me meet my nephew.” And so, filled with guilt, Y/N booked the plane tickets and a week later the two of them flew to London.

**********

Leaving the safety of the home she had built made Y/N’s blood run cold, on edge every time she left her parents house, every flash of red hair was a Weasley in her mind and every time it wasn’t she’d breathe a sigh of relief. Until the day the air caught in her lungs as a tall red haired man spotted her across the street. Identical to the one that played in her mind all the time.

He raced across the street and threw his arms around her, barely taking notice of the small red haired boy holding tightly to her hand. “Y/N!” He exclaimed. “How long has it been?”

Y/N used her free hand to pat him on the back. “Almost four years, it’s good to see you Freddie.” She pulled away, her eyes darting to her son, standing at her feet looking up at the man with curiosity. It was then that Fred looked down too and in that moment he realized her long kept secret and she knew it.

“And who’s this?” His voice tentative as he looked between her and the boy.

“This is Graysen.” She smiled and crouched down beside him, the two of them now looking up at Fred. “Graysen, this is one of Mummy’s friends from school, can you say hello to Fred?”

With a glint in his eyes a grin spread across his face. “Hello Fred!”

Fred now too crouched down to a closer height. “Well hello to you too Graysen,” Fred held out his hand and Graysen grabbed it. “How old are you?”

Graysen smiled and jumped up and down. “I just turned three in July!”

Fred faked a shocked face. “Three in July? You’re awfully big for three.”

“Mommy said I got it from my Daddy.”

Fred mumbled under his breath. “I bet you did.”

Y/N gave him a smile and picked Graysen up. “Well we best get going, I have to pick up my dress for Alexa’s wedding, it’s in two weeks.”

Fred nodded. “Right, well I’ll let you get back to your errands, but only if you agree to come to dinner at the Burrow tonight. You spent so much time at our house during breaks Mum will be thrilled to see you.”

“Oh Fred I don’t know I wouldn’t want to impose.” She said, shaking her head vigorously.

“You wouldn’t be, you’re invited. Please come, bring Graysen and your partner.” He insisted, looking to the little boy.

Her voice became small, “Actually it’s just Gray and I.”

“All the more reason to come then.” He was certainly persistent on the matter.

Y/N smiled softly at him, “You’re not going to accept no are you?”

He shook his head, “Not this time.”

“I’ll be there, six as usual?”

“Mum does like to keep a tight meal schedule these days.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” With that the two parted ways and Y/N regretted coming home.

**********

Fred strolled into the shop, two paper bags in hand, each filled with food from their favorite muggle dinner in London. Walking up to his brother and setting the food on the counter Fred narrowed his eyes at his brother. “George?” He began, “You remember like 4 years ago, there was a night you didn’t come home?”

George turned from his brother as the corners of his lips turned up at the memory.“Yeah, why?”

“Where were you?”

George rolled his eyes and sighed. “I told you before, I’m not telling you, I was safe that’s what matters.”

Fred rolled his eyes too and mumbled under his breath. “I don’t know if you were as safe as you could have been.”

George turned to him in confusion “What do you mean?”

Fred shook his head. “Nothing, just make sure you’re ready to go by six, you know mum doesn’t like us being late.”

**********

At half past five Y/N sat in front of her parents' empty fireplace, Graysen playing on the floor in front of her as a million thoughts raced through her mind, how could she have said yes? How could she have agreed to dinner with the family of her son, a boy they didn’t know existed, that they didn’t know was theirs. She had considered leaving him with her parents but Fred has specifically invited the two of them and so as the clock struck quarter to six she wrapped Graysen up in her arms and the two of them apparated to the Burrow. Placing Graysen on the ground and holding tightly to his hand Y/N knocked on the front door three times.

When the door swung open Molly Weasley stood on the other side, face bright and smiling and she pulled Y/N in for a hug and ushered her into the home.

It was as bright and warm as it had always been, filled with noise and people.

“Who’s this?” Molly asked smiling down at Graysen looking around the magical house in wonder.

“This is Graysen, my son.”

Molly looked at her with wide eyes, “Your son?”

“Yes, he’s why I left the county.”

Molly gave her a smile and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing dear, it wasn’t safe.”

“I know, but I should have come back sooner.” Her voice was soft and filled with sadness.

“What’s done is done, now come, we’re all sitting down to dinner.”

Walking into the kitchen felt so normal, she’d taken so many meals here in her youth it felt so natural to take the seat she’d always held, right beside George, though his seat seemed to be empty.

The table filled, Aruther and Molly at the heads, Ginny and Harry, Hermione and Ron, Bill, Fleur, even Percy and his wife had joined the fray tonight but the twin’s seats still remained empty at six oh one when there was a loud crack and the two cackling gingers appeared.

“Sorry we’re late mum, one last customer and all that, you know how it is.” Fred smiled as their laughter died down and they looked to the table.

When their eyes locked the room went silent. Y/N and George just stared at each other, until Graysen pulled on her arm for her attention. That’s when George looked to the small boy beside her and his heart soared then sank. Silently he went to his seat, the one beside Y/N, just as it has always been back when they were younger. Though this time they stayed nearly silent as they filled their plates and ate, Y/N keeping a close eye on the boy next to her as he fed himself small spoonfuls of the concoction he’d made of his plate.

“So Y/N,” Fred spoke. “You introduce Georgie to your son?”

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “George? This is my son Graysen.”

George leaned around her to get a good look at the boy, the red hair and the big brown eyes, there was no doubt that he was a Weasley. “Hello Graysen, it’s nice to meet you. I’m George.”

With a full spoon still in his mouth Graysen attempted a smile and waved his little hand in George’s direction. The normal conversation resumed and George turned to her and asked. “How old is he?”

“He just turned three.” She stated, her eyes trained closely on her plate.

“He seems like a sweet boy.”

“He is, he’s adorable and an absolute terror at times. His tantrums have been known to shake walls.”

Arthur chuckled, jumping into the conversation. “You know, the twins were like that too when they were young, thought they were going to bring the whole house down once or twice.”

Y/N smiled and stayed silent, the rest of dinner focused entirely on the food in front of her and keeping Gray’s mess contained to his plate. Dinner was cleared and everyone ushered themselves into the living room, Graysen and Victoire sat in the middle of the floor playing, everyone else sat around them on couches and chairs. It was all polite conversation until Fred turned to her with a mischievous smile, the same one his twin got, the same one that Graysen got, the one that indicated a terrible, terrible, idea.

“So Y/N,” Fred began, “Who’s Graysen’s dad?”

Y/N tried to smile but the panic was clear on her face. “Wow, right to the hard hitters.”

“Shouldn’t be a hard question.” His tone flat, no hint of laughter in his voice. And so the interrogation began.

“You don’t know him.”

“Is he a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Come from a big family?”

“No just him and his one sibling.”

“A twin?”

“No.”

“Parents names?”

“Mark and Anna.”

“What happened to him?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Did he go to hogwarts with us?”

“Yes.”

“Gryffindor?”

“Yes.”

Fred paused his rapid fire and his eyebrows rose. “Really?”

That was when it dawned on her, she’d slipped. There were only four Gryffindor boys their year. Fred knew it wasn’t him, and there was only one other redhead. “Fuck.” Y/N stood up quickly, picking Graysen up in her arms as she walked swiftly toward the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

George stood up after her following the two of them to the door. “Y/N wait!” He shouted but without a second thought a crack filled the air and she was gone.

George stormed back into the room, his eyes full of rage. “I can’t believe you!” He yelled his anger directed at his twin as the rest shuffled from the room.

Fred huffed. “Why are you angry with me? I was just asking questions about his father.” A sly smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“Because you know it’s me and you pushed her anyway!” George grew more angry by the minute.

“I did that for you! Do you really think she was going to tell you when she’s kept it from you this long already? No!” Fred now stood, face to face with his twin.

George choked on his words, clenching and releasing his fists as he tried not to attack the man before him. After a moment, his breathing calmed and his voice steadied. “That’s not a decision you get to make for her or for me. Now I have to go fix this and I’ll be lucky if she lets me in.” And with that George turned and walked out the door.

[smutsonian]

ma'am may we have some dark king steve or chris smuts thank ya ma'am

your king

king!steve rogers x reader

warnings: dark!steve rogers, noncon, loss of virginity, violence, multiple deaths, this lowkey scared me, i feel sorry for your cold back :( ,i never do proofreading, my brain farted this fic out soz bout that 

word count: 2.2k 

an: wat da feuk this is not a fucking drabble also, i tried to use ‘medieval’ words and you could probably tell by reading the first paragraph but that didn’t work out so the ending went wack ratatata also, omg this my first medieval au so go easy on me

masterlist

The snow that used to be a picturesque scenery was now everything but not. The usual sight of white snow blanketing every house in the little town that your family reigned and your people prancing around the crystalline surface of the snow was reshaped into something sinister. The once affable little town turned into an appalling mess of a borough. The white snow was now covered in the crimson liquid that once belonged to the people you considered as friends. The crystalline ice that was once filled with joyous laughter from the younglings was now filled with choking sounds from the bodies that are desperately trying to latch onto dear life as their slit throats paint the clear surface with the color of maroon.

The man who orchestrated the massacre of your family and the people of your town called himself many titles. His face was filled with pride when he introduced himself in front of your family. He called himself King Steve, the King of all kings, Maker of Change, Conqueror of Lands, and the Holder of the Shield. It was a lot of titles and everyone from your town was confused until the proud look on the intruder’s face turned into a sickening grin. Everyone soon discovered what it meant when his men started the attack. Your town is known for being a peaceful area and having peaceful townsfolks, no one the heart or the mastery of wielding a sword so it was only a matter of time before everyone you knew went down. The man who’s called King Steve made your royal family watch as his men slaughtered your people. After your town was filled with nothing but blood and carcasses, King Steve told your father of his plans.

 He told your father that he will no longer be the king and your mother will no longer be the queen, however, you were to be his queen. When he then turned to you with a foul smile before making long strides over to you, your father forced himself up from his kneeling position to step in front of you with a protective stance. “You’re not going to touch her.” You never heard your father speak with so much hatred and venom in his voice. King Steve laughed dryly before he raised an eyebrow to your father. “What are you going to do, stop me?”

 Your father’s face was filled with determination when he nodded at the man. “Are you certain that you’ll fight me? You can give me your greatest warrior and I can fight him instead.” He then looks around in an exaggerated manner before looking back at your father with a smirk. “Oh, right... All of your people are dead.” He continued on taunting your father until your father’s voice boomed. “I will fight you and in return, you’ll leave my family alone.” Your father never looked mightier than at that moment. The man gave a small laugh before nodding and getting into a fighting stance.

 Your mother was looking at your father with fearful eyes, quietly praying for the gods to look after him while you were watching everything unfold in front of you. Your father turned to look at you and your mother before giving both of you a reassuring smile. Everything happened so fast because the moment your father turned back around; the man’s huge hands made its way to your father’s head before snapping it to the side with a loud crack. Your father fell limp on the floor and your mother let out a shrill scream. The man clapped his hands before smiling at your mother. “You should never turn your back on the enemy. A simple rule when it comes to combat.” He shrugged before kicking your father’s body before turning to walk towards you once more.

 Your eyes widened in shock when your mother let out a scream as she stood up, running towards the man with a small dagger clasped in her hand. Before she could stab the man’s back, he turned around and held her armed hand and prying it away from her. He held her body against his chest as he looked at you. Your mother looked at you as well, tears continuously falling down her face. ‘I’m sorry’ she mouths before the man plunged the dagger down her chest all the while watching for your reaction. You couldn’t do anything but to watch as the life left your mother’s face and your father lying dead on the floor.

 “She’s got more fight in her than your father did, I must admit.” The man wiped the blood on the dagger with your mother’s dress before pocketing it. “Why are you doing this?” It was your first time speaking and it was the first time he heard you speak, thus the smile appeared on his face. “So, the princess does speak. I was worried I’ll have a mute queen by my side.” He walks over to your father, bending down to take the huge robe covered with fur from your father’s body and putting it on. He looked back at you before grinning. “Do I look like a proper king now?”

 “You’ll never be a king” You gritted your teeth before spitting on the space in front of his feet. He made a quick move towards you before gripping your face and glaring at you as his nose flared in anger. “I just killed your so-called king. I have killed lots of kings who weren’t strong enough to protect their people. Your father was the easiest to kill. This town was the easiest to conquer, thanks to your father. Your father was no king.” His grip on your face got tighter and your cheeks were starting to hurt. “And you think you’re better than him?” You glared at him. He laughs before letting go of your face. “Oh, princess. I’m better than everyone. I’m the fucking best and you’ll learn that in time.” He steps away from you before whistling out until a number of his men came entering the room. “Take her out of her garments and move her outside.” And with that, he disappeared out the door before his men started manhandling you out of your clothes until you were completely bare and filled humiliation as they carried you out and threw you on the cold surface of the snow.

 “Am I in heaven? You look better that way, princess.” The familiar voice made you cover your body with your hands as you looked up at the man who took everything away from you. He was covered with your father’s robe as he stood tall in front of your body. He squatted down until you were face to face. You shivered though you didn’t know if it was because of the closeness of his face or the coldness that was surrounding your bare body. “Is my princess cold?” He tilted his head and cooed at you before opening his arms along with the robe, revealing his naked body under it. Your eyes snapped down at the sight and he only chuckled in response before sighing. “If you don’t want to catch a cold, I suggest you come into your king’s arms.” He smiled at you before frowning when you crawled away from him, ignoring the sting of the cold ground under your body.

 In an instant, his body is on top of yours. You flayed under him until he had your hands on either side of your face while his body is in between your legs, cock brushing the inside of your thighs. “You would prefer to die instead of being my queen, is that it?” He leaned down to nip on your right ear before whispering. “Too bad. I’ll make it my mission to protect you and keep you alive. I’ll make you my queen whether you like it or not.” He moves his head down your neck and began sucking on your skin. You wiggled under his hold until you felt his cock rub against your folds earning a moan from him that made you immediately stop your movements.

 He grunted before pulling away from your neck. “Don’t stop now, you little tease.” He leaned down, breathing close to your face. He moves his hand down your body, groping your breasts and pinching the tit when you tried to wiggle away. Your back arched at the unfamiliar feeling and he chuckled as he watched your reaction. You watch him as he sucked on his fingers, eyes squinting in question at his actions. “Got to make this little cunt slippery for my big cock.” Your eyes widened as his fingers started playing with your folds until you felt it rubbing your opening. “Don’t do this. You’ve already done enou—” You cut yourself off with a gasp as one of his fingers intruded into your slit. You could feel his finger moving around inside of you as he continued pushing it inside of you. “What are you, a virgin?” He chuckled before biting his bottom lip as he watched your eyes close in discomfort. “Ahh… I should’ve known. Don’t worry, my queen. I’ll make sure you’re wet enough for me.” He added another finger and you grunted at the disagreeable feeling. “Shh.” He cooed before your body jolted when you felt his thumb rubbing against your clit. “You like that?” He laughs at you when you shook your head. “Stubborn little one, aren’t you? No worries…” His rubs got faster and you started to feel light-headed as something started building up inside you, begging to come out only to be stopped when he completely pulled his hands away from your cunt.

 “W-what?” You asked dumbly. “You almost came on my fingers, princess. We can’t have that now, can we? You can only cum on your king’s cock.” He palms his cock before taking a hold of it and guiding it towards your now wet cunt. He rubbed it against your shimmering folds until your hands moved towards his abdomen, eyes pleading him to stop. “Please, don’t do this. I’m begging you…” Desperate for him to stop his actions, your eyes started to tear up and you saw him clenching his jaw before moving away from your body.

 You breathed out a sigh of relief only to yelp in surprise as your body got turned around, your chest pressed against the white snow and hands restrained onto the small of your back as his body was back on top of yours. He presses a kiss on your cheek before shushing you when you cried at the feeling of his cock rubbing on your slit. “Shh… It’ll be quick.” He presses a kiss on your head before a hand covered your mouth. You let out a piercing scream when you felt his huge member penetrating inside your cunt at an unforgiving speed. He stopped halfway, telling you to breathe and wiping tears from your face. “P-please… I-I can’t! I can’t!” You wiggled under his body, stopping when he pushed his cock deeper and bottoming out, earning breathless cries from you. “Fucking tight and warm for me.” He grunted above you, ignoring your cries as he pulled halfway before slamming back in.

 He continued penetrating his cock into your cunt until your cries got quieter. He pulled out before flipping you back onto your back, his hand wiping the snow from your chest before slithering his cock back into your cunt slowly. He wiped the tears from your face before thrusting into you slowly. You started getting used to his size but your once virgin cunt was sore from the harsh treatment it got. Your clit was still sensitive from his earlier actions so when he rubbed it once more, your legs shook against his sides and he felt it. He started rubbing your clit faster as his thrusts got faster. You accidentally let out a whine and you saw his eyes lit up and his movements got even faster and his face got filled with determination.

 The feeling of something building up inside you returned and you hear him groan above you. “That’s it. Cum for me. Cum for your king.” He grunted as his movements got sloppier. His thrusts got shorter and that’s when you felt it. Your back arched as your legs spasmed in delight around his torso. He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips before pushing his full length inside of you. You whimpered when you felt him twitch inside of you as spurts of warm liquids filled your walls. You were tense against his body but his kiss against yours distracted you from the feeling.

 He stayed inside of you until your body started shivering against him. He finally realized how your back is still against the cold snow and he quickly pulled you up to press you against his chest, covering the both of you with your father’s robe. You looked back at the space you were just in and found droplets of blood, reminding you of how he took your chastity away from you. He softly pressed your head against his chest, forcing you to look away from your blood. “It’s over.” He whispers before rubbing your back as you cried against his chest. “You’ll learn to love me.” He kisses the top of your head before carrying you back inside, promising to give you a hot bath.

>>>next part>>>

[d0llpie]

could we suggest a scenario instead of a # from the prompt list? if we can could you write hcs (or whatever format you prefer haha) of fake dating for sakusa? like maybe you’re going home from college and ur parents are expecting you to bring home a boyfriend.

ofc if this isn’t what you normally do i understand !!

Fake Dating Sakusa

sakusa x reader

a/n: Hii yes this is perfectly fine, thank you for the request love <33 Also i don’t usually incorporate ‘germaphobe’ sakusa into my works, i still make reference to his social anxiety and cleanliness but i keep it low key if that makes sense? Hope you enjoy regardless <3

wc: 2k

- You were friends with Komori during middle school since he lived near you

- As you grew closer you started attending his volleyball practices and he introduced you to Sakusa

- You were bright and bubbly and spoke to him every game and practice, commending him on his skills. It was rare to get a reply but you still tried nonetheless

- Once Komori had asked you to become the manager, the three of you started hanging out more often, leading to you being one of the few people Sakusa wasn’t uncomfortable around

- Once you entered high school together the boy’s volleyball team was already amazing, Sakusa became the ace while you were focused on your studies and own extra curriculars

- When Sakusa asked you to manage his team he didn’t think you would decline, as petty as it was he started ignoring you

- Komori was annoyed at his behaviour and you just tried to get under his skin to annoy him. Slipping notes into his locker and notebooks, even flinging your mask at him across the classroom but he didn’t blink.

- Your mum asked why she hadn’t seen Kiyoomi around lately and you decided to tell her everything, including how much you missed him.

- She offered to call his mum but you quickly shut her down, instead making Komori talk some sense into him.

- The next day he showed up at your door, with brows furrowed, although you could only see half his face you could tell he had a guilty expression

- “Soo, you come crawling back to me just like always” you sighed dramatically before entering your house, rolling his eyes

- “I’m sorry for expecting so much from you, i know you aren’t interested in volleyball and just support me but i enjoy your support.” you were taken back by his blunt apology and nodded, about to speak when you were interrupted

- “Sakusa! Come in come in, i haven’t seen you in while how is volleyball!” you mum ushered him into the kitchen, starting the kettle to make some tea

- “Hi mrs l/n, it’s been good, we’re improving and nationals is approaching” he removed his mask and sat at the bench, looking over at you expectantly

- You smiled before sitting next him, “Well thats great! I’m sure your mum is proud, i need to catch up with her soon” you watched fondly as they interacted, remembering how your mum seemed to be on his side more when you explained his absence

- “I have to leave soon, i’ll be back in a few hours, Kiyoomi would you like to stay for dinner dear?” he nodded curtly “if that’s okay with you” she smiled before turning to you

- “y/n, about the trip next week, your cousin is bringing her boyfriend so you can bring Sakusa, if you’re free of course” you became embarrassed quickly, understanding that your mum had mistaken Kiyoomi for your boyfriend when you spoke to her

- “mum wait-“ “okay i really need to go now, we can talk about this later, bye guys” she rushed out the door and you sighed, slowly turning to see Sakusa’s unreadable expression

- “Is your mother under the impression that we’re dating...?” you wanted to crawl under the floorboards and melt into the earth “um, i think so? i didn’t tell her that i think she got confused when i explained why you were ignoring me..” he nodded understandingly

- “I am free” you quirked your brow “Omi you don’t have to come i can explain everything to her..”

- “i guess, that’s a bit of a hassle though don’t you think? And besides, your family likes me more than you.” you lightly hit his shoulder before standing up to bring the tea into the lounge room, Sakusa following behind you

- “I guess, but, you’d have to pretend to be my boyfriend in front of everyone and my cousin will ask a lot of question, do you think you’d be okay?” his eyes softened at your concern before he answered

- “I don’t mind, it won’t be difficult, plus we can always just stay in the hotel room and say we’re on a date or something if it gets too much” he shrugged “wow Omi, i didn’t know you could think this much so fast” he glared at you and you laughed

- “Alright then babe, i’ll tell mum when she gets back” you laughed again, focusing on your cup of tea, missing the way the tips of his ears burned red

~

Next week came all too fast, you and Sakusa had managed to slip back into the way your friendship was beforehand, comfortable.

Sakusa was sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you pack up the last of your things into the suitcase. You knew it might be a bit much for him to be in a car with your family for hours so you were going to take his car. It would give you both time to sort out your story and prepare for the week ahead. You hopped into the passenger seat and started playing your playlist.

“Okay so, mum won’t ask many questions, she loves you anyway, however, my cousin will ask about first dates and will want to know e v e r y t h i n g” you turned to face him when his arm reached behind the head of your chair, he looked back to reverse and you stared blankly at his side profile, seeing his arms flex. You cleared your throat and turned back in front of you to continue. “We need a story”, as he pulled out of your street and began driving he spoke “I mean we can tell the truth about how we met, say you confessed after a volleyball match where i won and our first date was a picnic, we’ve been together for a few months and your mum found out recently” you stared at him shocked “i thought i would be having to prepare you but okay” you playfully rolled your eyes and smiled “What about acting like a couple?” “well your mum already assumed and i’m comfortable with you so it’s not like people don’t already think we act like one, anything off limits?” you hummed “jeez what do you have in mind” you teased and he scoffed “I mean the obvious hand holding and hugs will have to probably happen but anything else you do or don’t want?” yes. You shook the thought away “That should be fine, what about you?” “that’s fine, you can take a nap if you’re tired, it’ll be a few hours” you nodded before settling into your seat comfortably, quickly falling asleep.

Sakusa looked over at you and noticed the goosebumps on your skin, he reaching onto the backseat floor and placed a jacket over you the best he could. He glanced to you at the side fairly often, watching you peacefully sleep under his jacket. He smiled to himself while continuing to drive.

You woke up as soon as the car stopped, looking around confused, feeling an unfamiliar weight and material draped over you. You looked down and recognised Sakusas jacket, remembering you fell asleep in the car. You looked over to see Sakusa looking down at you “sleep well?” “mhm” you sat up properly and took a few minutes to adjust to being awake. “Alright well, your family is here, you ready to act babe?” he threw the nickname back at you and your eyes widened before you put on a casual smile, realising you needed to get used to acting like you were in a relationship with your friend.

“Y/n, Sakusa! How was the drive? We’re all gonna put our bags away and get settled in before dinner, make sure you both get ready!” your parents greeted you both “It was nice, we’ll settle in now, thank you” your mother handed Sakusa one of the room keys. You went to grab your bags but Sakusa beat you to it, taking both of your bags and leading you to the room.

When you entered you made a mental note to annoy your mother, there was only one bed. “Kiyoomi i’m sorry, I didn’t know she would book it like this, actually i’m not surprised...” he nodded understandingly, putting both your bags on the bed. “I’ll sleep on the chair or the floor it’ll be fine, c’mon let’s get ready” you wanted to argue against him doing that, but hummed and began to get ready.

Once you finished getting dressed, you left the bathroom and met Sakusa by the door “You look good, ready?” you nodded, smiling brightly at him. He slipped an arm around your waist and you tensed up before relaxing into his hold

Dinner went smoothly for the most part, you let Kiyoomi do most of the talking since he answered all the questions relating to your relationship with ease, even including stories from middle school and weaving them into the lies about your dating life. “So, when did you realise you liked each other?” your cousin eyed you curiously and you looked over to Sakusa. “I’ve always known, she’s always made me feel safe enough to be myself, respecting me while still annoying the crap out of me. I knew on her first day as our manager in middle school, during a break she handed everyone water bottles but she went to my bag to bring me my own water bottle instead” you were staring at him in awe, millions of thoughts running through your mind. Was he serious? He couldn’t be..but wow that was detailed and he seemed, genuine? He looked over to see you staring at him, starstruck expression on your face, similar to when he looks over to you in the stands after landing a spike. Your cousin let out a few ‘awws’ holding her boyfriends hand before turning to you again. “Oh, um, I knew when he came and picked me up at the mall, i had had a horrible day, everything was going wrong and i just wanted to get out of there but i was so stressed and despite the crowded place he still came anyway.” your heart was racing, you were sure you looked completely flustered, fiddling with your hands under the table. Sakusa noticed your nervous state and gripped your hand in his own, squeezing to calm you while keeping his attention on the rest of the table. You smiled, squeezing back softly.

After dinner you flopped onto the bed, exhausted and trying to calm down. You let Kiyoomi shower first, hopping in after him, letting the hot water soak into your muscles and relax you. After you got ready for bed you came out of the bathroom to see Kiyoomi setting blankets on the floor “Just get on the bed Sakusa” you laughed and slid under the covers, lying as far on edge as possible to avoid making him uncomfortable. “I wasn’t lying.” he was lying on his back, staring up at the roof, you turned to face him, your heart rate picking up again. “Me neither...” he turned his head to look at you, moving onto his side, your faces mere inches apart. “I agreed to this because i like you y/n..” you could feel his breath fan across your face and you smiled “I wanted you to come, i like you too” you whispered the last part as you closed the distance between you both, kissing him on the cheek softly. A small blush spread across his cheeks and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest “I’m glad we aren’t faking anymore” you whispered into his chest “i never was, goodnight y/n” you snuggled further into his hold “goodnight omi”

[halloweenhoneylover]

serendipity

summary: spencer cannot wait to propose, but you accidentally beat him to it (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5k

warnings: some language! some minor angst!

author’s note: this is 100% based on one of my favorite episodes of new girl (google doc name is winston bishop type shit), also this is mega self-indulgent so if u don’t like dinosaurs and/or ferns i’m sorry :/

You let out a satisfied hum. Everything was quite nearly perfect. Presently, you were sitting on a bench next to the little duck pond in the park by your apartment, and you watched as tendrils of the weeping willow grazed the surface, sending gentle ripples across the water. It seemed to glow in the dappled sunlight. An adorable duck family was nestled into some of the reeds, and your heart was happy as you watched the mother tending to her ducklings. This was your favorite spot in the entire city.

“Hey, Spence?” Your head rested on his shoulder as he read one of the Ray Bradbury novels that he loved dearly. You weren’t sure which one he was on now; he’d been determined to read his entire collection this weekend and had been flying through.

“Yes, dear?” His eyes didn’t leave the pages, but you didn’t mind.

“What do you call a group of ducks?”

“There’s a couple names actually. It can be called a raft, team, or paddling; it’s a matter of preference.” Finally, he shifted his gaze toward you, and he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The flush of your cheeks and the wisps of your hair, he was so incredibly enamored, he loved you so much. And he was so excited to let you know so soon, but not quite yet.

“I think I like paddling.”

“Yeah, me too.” Shutting his eyes to revel in this moment, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you wanna get married?”

What.

Spencer floundered in the absolute contradiction of feelings that he found himself submerged in in that moment. Ice flooded his veins, and his face heated. His blood pressure skyrocketed, and oh God, it’s not supposed to happen like this. Yes, he loves her terribly, and yes, he absolutely wants to marry her, but he had a plan! An incredibly intricate and thoughtful twenty-two step plan that was going to take place over the course of the next month. It was all laid out in an entire binder in his desk. All he could muster in response was an extremely eloquent, “Uh—well, uh—”

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you finally lifted your head to look at him with the biggest heart eyes he’s ever seen, and he can’t help but feel so, so guilty. “I just thought, why not, you know? Spencer, I love you a whole lot, and I’m pretty sure you love me a whole lot too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want the rest of my life to start right now.” 

“No.”

Judging by the look on your face, that was clearly not the answer you were expecting. “No?”

“Uh, yeah, no.” God, stupid dumb idiot, telling the girl you want to marry that you don’t want to marry her. What’s the point of having 187 IQ points if you use exactly none of them when it actually matters?

“No, you don’t want to marry me?” Your heart dropped into your stomach and was falling further and further every passing second.

“Wait no, hold on—” 

“No, I get it,” you choked out, hastily standing up from the bench. “Actually, I don’t get it, but that doesn’t really matter, I guess.” You jammed your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, so you could get out of this moment as soon as humanly possible. Holy shit, had you been blind-sided. “Um, I think I’m gonna go hang out with Penelope, might spend the night, I’m not sure. Enjoy your book.” And with that, you were speeding down the path out of the park.

“Wait, (Y/N/N)!” Spencer tried to gather his belongings to run after you, but you had a head start, and he couldn’t gather all of the books in his arms fast enough. Leave the books!!! Go after her!!! But you had already turned the corner and were out of sight.

With his books finally secure, Spencer sprinted in the direction of your shared apartment. He needed to fix this. And fast.

———

Morgan sat at his desk peacefully looking over the plans for a house he was renovating when the phone rang, and he couldn't help but internally groan at the sound. If Hotch is calling on his weekend off, so help him God, he would hang up and chuck the phone out the window.

Instead, he was met with Garcia’s voice, which was so loud he had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, mama. Let’s take it down a few notches.”

“Alright, fine, babycakes,” she hissed, and Derek was shocked at the unfamiliar venom in her tone. “Would you please be so kind as to explain to me why your dear friend Reid is the most evil, most reprehensible, most despicable—”

“Garcia, what are you talking about?”

“You mean that little rat boy hasn’t come crawling to you explaining his crimes?”

Despite his infinite patience for her antics, he sighed quietly. “I’m in the dark, baby girl, but I’m sure whatever Reid did, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it can be that bad! He told (Y/N) that he didn’t want to marry her.”

“He did what?” Derek’s eyes were practically popping out of his head at the news. There’s no way that happened.

“He said that he didn’t want to marry our precious lily flower (Y/N)! I love that boy, but now, (Y/N) is here bawling her eyes out on my couch, and I don’t know what to do!”

His heart broke a little at the thought of his friend being so devastated, but he couldn’t help the roaring confusion that plagued him. Derek knew that Spencer was planning to propose to you; he’d seen the binder. He’d even been recruited to help with Steps 4, 9, 10, and 18! 

Oh.

And that’s when Derek had a sneaking suspicion as to what had occurred. “Penelope, were his exact words ‘I don’t want to marry—” But his attention was drawn away from the phone by a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil….

“Garcia, I gotta go, but tell (Y/N) everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna have a word with our boy.”

“Oh my God, is he there with you?! That little bastard—” He hung up before her words could become any sharper, and the knocking became frantic.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” He jogged to go unlock the door. “You’re gonna knock the door down, kid.”

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, huffing and puffing with a red face and a binder in arm. “Morgan, I am the stupidest man to ever walk the Earth.”

“Did you run here?”

Ignoring the question, he pushed past him with an agitated step. “I am a complete idiot, a dumbass, if you will.”

Morgan shut the door and crossed his arms, walking to stand opposite Reid who had sat on the couch with his head in his hands. “Yeah, I might agree with you on that one. Garcia called me, told me (Y/N) is crying on her couch ‘cause you told her you didn’t want to marry her, which I know is not true.”

“I didn’t say that!” he cried, gesticulating wildly. “Not exactly. She asked me if I wanted to get married—”

“And what did you say?”

His hesitation was palpable. “...No.”

“Yeah, I’d say that constitutes dumbass behavior, especially because I know you only said that because you have your proposal all planned out, and you want it to be perfect.”

“Morgan, you don’t get it,” he implored, the desperation evident in his eyes, and Derek finally started feeling a little bad for the kid, an inkling of sympathy squirming in his gut. “No one deserves the most perfect proposal more than (Y/N). No one. You know how she’s always felt unwanted, and she’s told me that she felt like she always has to ask for love, and I couldn’t let her feel like that with me. I had to make sure that she had a special proposal because she’s special. And I want her to know without having to ask that I want her more than anything else in this world.”

Reid looked down at the toes of his scuffed Converse, hoping that he hadn’t permanently fucked up his best chance at happiness, and Morgan’s expression softened. “I know, kid. And I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, but you do know that this was not the best way of letting her know that she’s wanted and loved?”

“Yes, I know, Morgan,” he muttered, voice breaking around the slug in his throat. “I wasn’t thinking.”

A sigh. “No, you weren’t. But I’m gonna help you fix it.”

Reid looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”

“You both deserve to be happy...even if you make some pretty stupid choices sometimes.” 

Reid didn’t think he’d ever felt so grateful for his friend, and he offered a smile in gratitude. “Thanks. But I don’t even know where to start.”

Quirking an eyebrow and returning with a grin, Morgan picked up the binder from the table where it had been set. “I’ve got a couple ideas.”

——— 

“How is she doing?”

“Erm, it’s not looking great,” Garcia responded.

She was openly hostile when Reid had called her (he’d never been on the receiving end of Garcia’s wrath (so few people had been), and he was sure that was something he never wanted to experience again), but she’d finally restrained herself and offered a little empathy (not a lot though, she was too loyal to (Y/N) for that) when he had explained himself. However, when she’d been informed of the plan to apologize, regain your love and trust and to maybe, just maybe, ask for your hand in marriage, she had wholeheartedly avowed her support and pledged her help despite still being a little miffed at boy genius’ idiocy.

“She’s been sitting on the floor of the bathroom for an hour listening to Landslide on repeat and crying, so I would say she’s, um…not well.”

Spencer winced at that, and he felt physically sick at the thought that you were hurting because of him. His heart clenched unbearably, and he wished so badly that he could take back his words and just say yes, but unfortunately for him, time is linear, and he was just going to have to do his best to fix things.

“I just need a couple more hours to get everything ready.”

“Well, hurry up, pretty boy! I love our girl immensely, but if I have to hear Stevie Nicks mourn the passage of time and love one more time, I will lose my mind.”

“Garcia, please, just be patient.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky I love you.” And with that, she hung up.

——— 

You huffed a sigh, clutching to your chest a shiny pink pillow covered in sequins and giving Garcia the biggest puppy eyes you could muster. “Please, Penny, let’s not go out to dinner. Let’s just stay in and order Cheesecake Factory; you love Cheesecake Factory!”

“You’re right I do, but I love you more, and right now, you need to get up and get some fresh air!” The almost excessive amount of peppiness in her voice and her refusal of Cheesecake Factory was slightly suspicious, but you didn’t really have time to consider it as she dragged you up off the couch and to the door.

“Okay, counterpoint: what if you went out for dinner, and I stayed in and wallowed in self-pity?”

By the look on her face, you knew your evading tactics were not going to fly. She tutted slightly and said, “You’ve got to know I can’t let you do that. I’m legally obligated to stay with you until you feel better, that’s the deal when you’re friends with me.” She grabbed your coat, holding it open for you. 

Reluctantly, you sighed and slid your arms in, grumbling, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, but let’s get a move on!” And with that, she herded you out the door.

——— 

It was a nice dinner, the two of you out on the town, and for a while, you were granted the solace of distraction. Garcia took you into the city, and somehow it felt a little easier to breathe there under the streetlights amidst a bustling Saturday night crowd. You nestled together in some street corner diner, ordering an absurd amount of food and jabbering on about anything and everything. If she noticed the moments when you fell silent, eyes distant and glassy, (and she definitely did), she never said anything; she just offered a new topic and redirected you from the very sad place that was thoughts of Spencer. And you would latch on eagerly, seizing the opportunity to forget.

So, you spent the evening with late night waffles and french fries and milkshakes and the unending source of cheer that was Penelope Garcia, and by the end of it, your mind didn’t immediately redirect to that morning’s tragedy, which Garcia would define as a success. Together, you found your way back to her car, and you tumbled into the passenger seat, your eyelids immediately fluttering shut. Penelope grinned and drove off.

When you woke again, you were engulfed in bewilderment and not just the regular post-nap disorientation. “Penny, why are we at the National Mall? This is the opposite direction of your house.”

She tapped her acrylics on the steering wheel and nervously surveyed the street in front of her, trying to escape your prying gaze. “Uh—no reason!”

Too exhausted from your day of grief and distraction to be suspicious of her terrible lying, you leaned your head back against the seat, watching the glow of the streetlamps as they roved over the interior of the car.

Garcia seized this movement to set the next part of Reid’s plan in motion. “Hey! You know, what’d be fun is if we went to the Natural History museum! There’s nothing better to cheer you up than dusty old dinosaur bones.” (She didn’t necessarily understand the appeal, but she was trying her best.)

A small chuckle escaped you. “As much as I’d love that, it closed at nine, so we wouldn’t even be able to get in anyway.”

Garcia’s mind thundered furiously as she tried to come up with some way to get you in that freaking building. “Let’s just walk past! Take a peek through the windows, see what we can see!”

Something in you sensed that she wasn’t going to let this go, so you relented as she finagled some sort of street parking that was definitely illegal. You could barely get your seatbelt off before she was dragging you the stone steps, the massive corinthian columns looming. You squeaked a quick Penelope! and tried to keep up. Entirely ready to give up and head back to the car when she tried the door, your mouth fell open in shock when it gave way with ease. 

“Oh, look! It’s open! Let’s go inside.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond before she was ducking in the building, and you followed, completely and utterly baffled. Stumbling into the atrium, you were met by a receptionist at the desk. She smiled warmly, “Miss (Y/L/N), I presume?”

You nodded slowly before turning to Garcia whose devious smirk was undeniable. “Penny, what is going on?”

She grabbed your hands and looked at you with tears in her eyes. (Where the hell did those come from?) “Just remember that you’re a very forgiving person, and that sometimes the smartest of us can also be the most stupid.”

Furrowing your brows at that slightly cryptic message, you went to respond when the receptionist stood and said, “If you would, miss, please follow me.”

And so you walked with this stranger through the empty halls, the click of her heels echoing. It was odd to see a space that was normally flushed with people completely empty, and you studied the walls as you walked. “Um, may I ask what’s going on?”

The receptionist grinned, “I’m sorry, but I’m under strict instructions from Dr. Reid to not reveal anything.”

Strict instructions from Dr. Reid. You gasped a little at that, and your thoughts raged with possibilities of what Spencer could possibly have planned. If this was an elaborate attempt at an apology, you were a little overwhelmed; the little dispute this morning absolutely did not necessitate a response of this degree. Sure, you were disappointed, and you needed time to deal with it away from him, but you weren’t mad at him, not really. You had talked about marriage and knew that it was something you both wanted, but you had never discussed when. If he wasn’t ready to marry you quite yet, that was fine; you’d adjust. You were pretty sure you’d wait a whole lifetime for him. Besides, you had sprung it on him quite abruptly, and you knew Spencer and that he was not always well-equipped to deal with monumental change, and how could you blame him for that? You’d wait as long as he needed. 

“Here we are!”

Her words broke you from your thoughts, and you looked up to realize you were at the Hall of Fossils. (You had always been fond of the dinosaurs.) Glancing at the girl, you asked, “What do I do now?”

She laughed a little at that. “Just go inside. Take a look around.” And with that, she turned around, leaving you to wander the exhibit. 

So you ambled easily through the prehistoric relics and fossilized memories of a past Earth. It was rather haunting, the eerie silence and the illuminated dinosaur skeletons. You peered down at one of the explanatory plaques and instead found a blue post-it note. COLD. A grin wormed its way onto your face, and you jogged a little to the next plaque. GREENHOUSE GASES—WARMER. Spencer was always one for a game. So you zig-zagged through, collecting post-its. GLACIAL PERIOD—COLDER. CRETACEOUS WARMING. EOCENE KIND OF HOT! 

With the last note, you looked up and gasped yet again. Spencer was standing in a sea of different plants and flowers placed throughout the central clearing, and donning his signature tight-lipped smile and your favorite of his cardigans, he gave you a small wave. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Your response was breathless, and now that you had met his eyes, you couldn’t tear yours away. A weight lifted from your lungs, it was such a relief to see him, and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed him in the hours you spent apart until you could breathe properly again. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He chuckled at that, but the tension in his shoulders never released; he was clearly anxious, but for what reason, it was hard to say. 

An amusing gleam in his eye, he replied, “Same to you.” 

“How did you get into the museum after hours?”

He took the moment to examine the toes of his shoes, replying delicately, “I have friends in high places.”

“Ah, Dr. Reid, I always forget that you ruled the world of academia before your time fighting crime.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “Do you remember our first date?”

You gave him a tender smile, and his racing heartbeat eased ever so slightly, you just had that kind of effect on him. “Well,” you began, “I remember you were wearing that cardigan, the one that I love, and I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out—”

“I was definitely more nervous. I was so anxious I forgot who Carl Sagan was at one point.”

“I’d forgotten about that!” You giggled at the memory. “But I remember being in this room, and we were making stupid dinosaur puns, and I believe I told you that you are dino-mite….”

He nodded meekly with a subdued grin. “I think that was the moment I fell in love with you.” Meeting his eyes once again, you felt the wind knocked out of you. The utter honesty you found radiating from his soft golden irises hurt your heart, and it was impossible to not believe him. He fell in love on the first date, how sweet and lovely and perfectly Spencer is that?

You took a breath and began to walk closer, skimming a hand over the lush greenery around you. “You know, the last time I was here, I didn’t remember there being so much flora.” 

As if he had forgotten the miniature forest that surrounded him, he surveyed the plants surrounding him. There was a sea of succulents and ferns and honeysuckle and peonies and almost every other plant under the sun. “Yes, they’re a new addition. And if I recall correctly, it seems that lots of your favorites have made an appearance.”

“It does appear that way.”

He reached out to gently lift one strand of a nearby fern. “I believe you’ve mentioned before that you would ‘take a fern over a flower any day of the week.’”

“That would explain why they seem to be taking over the windowsills of our apartment.”

“True. Did you know that in the Victorian floriography, the fern represented sincerity and humility? So maybe if somebody had made a stupid mistake and they were trying to let someone know that they were really sorry, they might give a fern to say that they know they were being an idiot and they felt really bad for what they did.”

You laughed airily, “No, I was not aware of that fact.”

He closed the gap between you, reaching to tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear. He simultaneously managed to pull a small bouquet of purple-ish flowers from thin air, causing more laughter to bubble from you. The laughing is a good sign, he thought, grinning. Keep going! “To really drive the point home, they might also give some columbine which represents foolishness.”

You looked up at him, your expression bright. “Oh man, this guy feels really bad.”

“Yeah,” he agreed before his words took a more somber cadence. “Yeah, he does.”

Your face softened. “Spence—” 

“Um, before you say anything else, (Y/N), I just need to let you know how sorry I am for this morning. I love you so, so much, and I never want you to doubt that, and—”

“Spencer, slow down. Really, it’s okay! I’m not mad.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not angry with me, but it’s not okay because you still deserve an apology. A good apology. So,” he took a deep breath, “I am so very sorry for my actions and for letting you think for even a second that you’re not the most important thing in my life, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I want to marry you when you asked because I do. I really, really do.”

Something warm and elated simmered in your stomach, and you beamed at him. “I’m glad because I wanna marry you too.” But before you could get too caught up in the moment, you remembered your earlier thoughts. “I don’t want to push you in any way, though, or make you commit to anything before you’re ready because marriage is kind of a big deal, and I’m happy to wait. Spencer Reid, I’d wait for you forever.”

“I don’t want to wait.” He shook his head and began digging in his pocket. 

Your eyes widened in shock and spluttered, “Spence, seriously, if you’re not ready—”

“I am ready.” Finally, he found it and pulled out a small velvet box, looking you dead in the eye. “(Y/N/N), I have been planning this for so long because I wanted it to be perfect for you. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and I wanted to give that to you.”

His admission gave you pause. “Wait, you’ve had this planned?”

“I’ve been planning this for months! This isn’t me trying to fumble around and fix my mistake. I have a binder and everything, you can ask Derek. That’s the only reason I said no!”

“You said no because you had a binder for your proposal plan?” you teased.

You both broke out into laughter at that.

Recovering his breath and trying to suppress his ever-growing grin, he said, “No, that’s not why. The only reason I said no earlier is because I needed to show you how much I wanted to say yes. You deserve the best, you deserve every star in the sky and every beautiful thing on this earth, and I wanted to make sure I gave that to you when we decided to spend the rest of our lives together because I want to be enough for you.” Trying to swallow around the slug in his throat, he continued, voice breaking slightly. “This is me giving you all the love I have to offer. You’re it for me, (Y/N). And frankly, I don’t want to spend another second without you.”

He settled on one knee and opened the box, looking up at you with the gentlest gaze and a pounding heart. The wetness of your eyes matched his, and you gave him a watery smile. “I’m saying yes now. I would really, really like to marry you, (Y/N/N), if you’ll still have me.”

“Of course, you absolute dork.” Yanking him up from the ground and grinning like a madman, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for the messiest kiss. He clutched your waist and held you as close as he could possibly manage. (His desire to never be parted seemed to be coming to fruition in the sort of melding of bodies that was occurring.) Clashing teeth and knocking noses, it was hard to settle things when neither of you could stop beaming. Overwhelmed by the complete and utter joy bubbling up in his chest, Spencer hugged you tightly before spinning you in a circle, both of you devolving into boisterous giggles. 

“Wait,” he murmured. “I forgot to give you the ring, I still need to seal the deal!” To which, you responded with another peal of laughter (something he thought he would never tire of hearing), as his trembling fingers floundered for the ring.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, but I’ll take it either way.”

He finally secured, and taking your hand in his ever so gently tenderly, he slid a glimmering emerald on your finger. 

“Oh, Spencer, it’s beautiful.” He let out a sigh of relief. With light confusion, you asked, “What’s the sigh for, handsome?”

“I know you wanted a special ring, but when I went ring shopping with Derek, there was nothing I thought you’d like, so I special-ordered one from this shop that was going to be your size and everything, but that ring wasn’t going to be ready for a couple weeks. So today, when I knew I had to propose tonight, I ran to that vintage store you love and came across this one, and I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure it was gonna fit, and—”

“I love it,” you looked at him, trying to will him to understand the depth of your sincerity. “And it fits perfectly!”

“How serendipitous.” He thought his face was going to split in half, he was smiling so wide. He couldn’t stop looking at the ring on your finger. How could one silly little rock make tears well in his eyes? Nonetheless, the sight of it made his heart race and his stomach churn with unrepentant butterflies because looking at it, he knew the girl he loved more than anything else on the planet, his favorite person had chosen to spend the rest of her life listening to his rambles and laughing at his jokes and sitting next to him by the pond in the park. The listless dream that had seemed so hopeless and romantic finally came to fruition in that shiny green stone, so no, he would not stop staring. 

“Indeed,” you mused, subtle and irresistible risibility fizzing in the silence that followed. You contemplated for a moment before asking, “What do we do now?”

A thoughtful frown graced his lips, and then he shrugged. “We have the museum until midnight. We could just wander for a bit.”

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and you tugged on his sleeve, your excitement palpable. “I’ve always wanted to be in a museum when no one’s around at night! Oh my god, Spencer, it’s just like Night at the Museum!”

He quirked a brow, and a sly smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean I have to protect you when the dinosaur skeletons come to life?”

You scoffed, “Please, we both know that I’d be the one protecting you.”

Another devolution into giggling. It seemed to be your thing tonight.

“Fair enough.” 

“Also, do we get to keep all of these plants?” His eyes remained glued to your flushed face as you peered around the room. He wasn’t ashamed to admit just how besotted he was, shamelessly beaming at his fiancée. 

“I bought them for you, so yeah.”

“Sick! Our apartment’s gonna turn into a little greenhouse!”

He extended a crooked arm to you, to which you looped yours in his and proceeded to set off on your museum adventure. You learned your head on his shoulder as you walked, completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you very much.”

“I love you too, dear.”

[dekus-afro-pic]

Smile For The Camera

Dabi x Fem!Reader x Hawks

⚠️ warning ⚠️: This fic includes the use of Dabi and Hawks real name which are spoilers to the manga. This fic also includes non-con sex with Endeavor, murder, crying, SWEET SWEET REVENGE, and Villan Hawks

Summary: After months of being held captive by the number one “hero” you finally snap. When you reunite with your childhood friends, whom you thought were dead, your opportunity for revenge is brought to you ona silver plater. Art by @brttpaige

Burns and bruises littered your body and the man on top of you was to blame. You scratch at the hand that was around your throat as you felt yourself losing oxygen. The “hero” slaps your hands away and strikes your face as he continued to thrust into you.

“Just take it,” He grunts above you “Give me what I want”

Tears were no longer streaming down your face but that didn’t stop you from wailing in pain as his hips met yours. You refused to look into his eyes when he hurt you this way. Knowing that if you did, he’d only go harder. You didn’t want this at all. How could he not see that? You didn’t expect your close friend’s father to be such a…monster.

How could you not know y/n? He killed his own son for Christ's sake. And soon, he’d kill you too.

After Endeavor finishes his load inside of your womb, he zips up his pants and leaves. You laid there, in the bed of an apartment that he kept you captive in, and shuddered. You knew two things for certain.

You are not going to bear his child and you were going to kill Enji Todoroki.

You crawl towards the nightstand and pull out a plan-b from beneath it. After swallowing the pill dry, you make your way to the bathroom to tend to your injuries and cleanse yourself of that monster.

Unbeknownst to you, someone watched the whole ordeal take place. Dabi’s blood was boiling. How the fuck could the number one “hero” be capable of such actions. But then again, heroes weren’t all that they seemed. His chest tightened as he watched you use your water quirk to heal your bruises. You shouldn’t be going through this. You should be out there getting rid of villains like his “father”. He knew he had to get you out of there. He pulls out his phone to inform the others of his plan. But for it to succeed, you were going to have to make the first move.

And that you did. Once your body was back to an ok state, you start packing everything you could. Your toothbrush, clean clothes, the little food you had in the beat down apartment, 2000¥ ($20 USD) you stole from your abuser, and your only second pair of shoes. You were on a mission to get out of there as fast as you could.

It was a Friday night, meaning that Endeavor was out playing pretend with his family. The looks on their faces once you reveal his secrets were ones that you want to cherish forever. You couldn’t wait until the world finally knew who it was idolizing.

You wasted no time opening the bedroom window and sprinting down the fire escape stairs. You held the duffel bag close to your body as you ran down the dark alleyway. You were free. You were finally free.

After running for what felt like 20 minutes you finally stop to give your aching lungs and legs a break. You didn’t know where your legs had taken you but from the looks of it, you were farther away from the apartment than you had imagined. You weren’t complaining though. The farther away you were from that wretched man the better.

You sat in a quiet alleyway for some time. You reach into your bag for a water bottle as you pressed your back against the brick wall. When you looked back up from your bag three men were standing on the opposite side of the alleyway. As the men inch closer to you, you realize that there weren’t three men. It was one man with gigantic wings.

“Hey kid. I know this might sound crazy but” He said grabbing you and your bag with both his hands “You’re a package I need to deliver.”

“What the fuck let me go” you struggle against the stranger's hold. Your actions are stopped as he rose in the air. You cling to his chest for dear life hoping he wouldn’t drop you.

“Where the fuck are you taking me bird brain?” You yell against the roaring winds. He didn’t answer you, he only smiled as you continue to spew curses at him. “I swear when you land I’m going to DROWN you”

Finally, he lands in front of a relatively big house in the woods. Once his feet touch the ground you use the water in his body to make him punch himself. Before you could swing at him with your fist, his feathers lifted you off the ground and carried you into the house.

“Hawks is back” you heard a girl squeal “And he brought her too.”

Hawks’ feather dropped you on your bum as the man walks off. The girl from before comes into your line of eyesight and smiles. She had blonde hair which was tied into pigtails and her canines were long.

“Hi I’m Toga” She introduced, holding out her hand to help you up. “The birdie who flew you in is Hawks, he’s Dabi’s boyfriend. Welcome to the new and improved League of Villains super-secret hideout. Don’t tell anyone though. Or I’ll have to kill you”

“Y/n” you reply as you take her hand. “Why am I here? I’m no villain.” At least not yet you weren’t.

“Dabi has told us all about you. Which is why you’re here. He should be around here somewhere” She wonders off. You hear her yell “DABI” Before she returns with Hawks and another man, who you assumed was Dabi. You flick your middle finger at the birdman as he walked closer to you.

“Aww don’t be like that kid. I was only trying to help” He said with a smile. With the proper lighting in the house, you got a proper look at the man. His wings were a bright crimson color and his blonde hair was done messily. He had a long scratch from above his right eyebrow down to the middle of his cheek. Overall the man looked familiar.

Damn this man is gorgeous. If he didn’t have a boyfriend I’d want a piece of that.

You flinched when you feel his hand touch your shoulder. On the defense, you twist his arm behind his back and push him away from you. When you realize what you’ve done you quickly apologize “Oh shit. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s fine” He reassured with a smile “it’s obvious that you're on edge. I shouldn’t have done that”

“Yea...on edge” you turn to the other man. His eyes were bright blue and the majority of his skin was covered in burn scars. Staples pierced his skin in various places. “You must be Dabi”

“Correct. But you can call me Touya”

“Tou-?”

“Follow me” He interrupts. You follow the couple down the hallway. You passed multiple rooms. In one room, a man with visible dry skin sat in front of a medium-sized tv with a game controller in hand. Maybe he’d let you relieve him one day.

“I’ve been watching you Y/n” Touya begins “I’ve seen the things that man has done to you”

You stopped in front of a brown door. Hawks stepped in front of you with a softer look.

“You’re going to get your revenge little birdie. But for now,” Hawks opened the door to the room. It was gorgeous, to say the least. A queen-sized bed was centered in the room with the smell of vanilla faint in the air. “You’re going to relax”

You dropped your duffel bag as you slowly walked through the threshold. You make your way to the bed with tears blurring your vision. Hawks place your bag on a vacant chair while Touya makes his way towards you.

“So you’ve been in hiding this whole time?” You question the man standing in front of you.

“Yeah pretty much” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck “I was supposed to come back for you but you went off the grid. Now I know why”

“Where’s Keigo?” You ask.

“What did that monster do to you?” The blonde reaches out to caress your face but you flinch away. “I’m Keigo, Y/n”

“Some friend reunion we have here” You joke.

When you realize that you were indeed not captivated in some beat down apartment panic sunk in. What if he finds you? What if he’s already sent out people to look for you? What if these were the people he sent out?

“Hey” A single feather lifts your head to look at both of them “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He won’t find you here. And if somehow he does...we’ll just kill him”

Dabi nods his head in agreement. You wrap your arms around both of their bodies with tears running down your face. Keigo leaned into your touch while Dabi just pats your head stiffly.

They tell you to adjust to your new room and get cleaned up as they leave your room. Once Keigo closes your door, he buries his face into his hands.

“Did you see her arms and legs Touya?” He sobs, “She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days”

Dabi places his hand on his lover’s back, guiding him to their shared room. “Don’t cry Keigo. We’ve successfully finished phase one of the plan. We need to get ready for phase two”

———————————

“Ok you two. What’s going on?” You ask your two best friends.

“It’s a surprise y/n, we can’t tell you” The blonde laughs as Touya guided you through the wooded area. The white blindfold did its job at hiding the world from your view. You felt the boy to your right stop walking as the other untied the white cloth.

The view before you was breathtaking. “Happy Birthday Y/N” frosted onto a small cake with balloons tied to tree branches.

“Guys you shouldn’t have” You giggle.

“You’re our best friend Y/N. You’re going to have to get used to celebrating your birthday” Touya scolded.

Little did the three of you know, that was going to be the last time you would be together.

The scene started to change. The woods were engulfed in bright flames, screams were heard in the distance.

“KEIGO!” you scream. “TOUYA!WHERE ARE YOU?”

The smoke covered everything around you. You choked on the thick smoke as you tried to avoid the flames. You scream louder for your friends. But you never found them. You trip and fall over a fallen tree branch. You look up and see your abuser standing over you.

You try to crawl away from him but he catches you by your hair.

“No. Please” you cry. “TOUYA! KEIGO PLEASE HELP”

“Y/n. You can’t escape me” He growls in your ear.

Just seconds before he could throw you against the burning tree, your eyes shoot open as you send icicles flying everywhere. You scream as you feel hands grabbing your own. Your eyesight still blurry from waking up, you swing at the person in front of you. “LET GO. LET GO! GET OFF ME. KEIGO, TOUYA HELP ME”

“Y/n calm down it’s me. It’s Keigo” The blonde whispers. Your eyes frantically search for his. Your body shakes while you sob as you held Keigo’s face in your hands.

“Keigo, where were you? Keigo don’t let him get me please don’t let him get me” You choke out, “I don’t want to go back please don’t send me back. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“He won’t find you baby bird” He cooed. He places your head on his chest as he rubs your hair soothingly. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again” He stays true to his word and drifts back to sleep with you in his arms.

Touya woke up to an empty bed. Confused, he brushed his teeth and went to check up on you. When he opens your room door he finds you asleep on top of his boyfriend’s chest. His boyfriend, on the other hand, was wide awake. He looks over at the door when he heard the floorboards creak.

“Shh. She had a rough night” He whispers.

“What happened?”

“Night Terror about him. She was screaming our names so I came in to check on her. She almost cut me with an icicle.” Keigo explains.

Touya slides underneath your cover on the other side of you. You stir at the sudden movement which causes Keigo to stop breathing.

“Goodmorning Keigo” you groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes “and Touya”

“Goodmorning little one” the latter replied, “how are you feeling?”

“Tense” You yawn. You wiggle out of Keigo’s hold and walk towards your duffel bag. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to uh..take a shower”

“Across the hall”

You say a quiet thank you and exit your room. The couple let out breaths that they didn’t know they were holding when they hear the shower starts.

“We have to do something. And quick” Keigo whispers “Did Toga and Shigaraki already leave?”

“Yea. They should be back later tonight with our special guest. But for now, we need to calm down y/n”

The water dripped off of your skin as you stepped out of the steamy shower. After drying off, putting on clean clothes, and brushing your teeth, you walk back across the hall to your bedroom. Before you could sit back down on your bed, Keigo’s there with his hand stretched out for you to take.

“Hey, there birdie. Come with me” he says.

You take his hand and followed behind the blonde. He brings you to the kitchen, where a tall shadow man was making lunch.

“Hello young y/n” He spoke “I’m Kurogiri”

“Nice to meet you” You smile faintly. “Keigo I’m not hu-“

“Yes you are y/n” Touya scolds from behind you. “You haven’t eaten since I don’t know when. At least eat the seaweed out of it”

He pulls the chair out for you to sit and sits directly across from you. Keigo takes the seat on side of you as Kurogiri places your bowls in front of you.

“Shoyu Ramen?” You inhale the steam coming from the bowl. It smelled delicious. How long has it been since you had this?

“You always ate this after training and I suspect that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in-“ Touya was cut off by your loud slurping “years”

“Stalker” You laugh before stuffing your face with more ramen. “So how long have you been watching me?”

“Well, we’ve been looking for you since we turned 20” Keigo answers. “Touya here found you just last week”

Your response was a loud hum as you drank the broth of your meal. You couldn’t help the satisfied sigh that escaped through your lips. The food was just that good.

“I’m kind of grateful that you abducted me when you did. I’d probably still be sitting in that alleyway.”

“Y/n if you don’t mind me asking” Touya begins “How long has he been..”

“6 months” You sigh, “I was dropping Shoto off at home one night and that’s when he took me to the apartment. I had no contact with the outside world. No tv, no phone, not even a god damn newspaper” You felt your quirk activate, causing the water in the glasses before you to boil. “I swear, the next time I see him I’m going to boil the skin off of him”

“Whoa there princess” Keigo uses one of his feathers to rub at your thigh to calm you down. You relax at his touch and bring the raging water to a stop. You grab Keigo’s hand in an attempt to regulate your breathing.

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, “I know you two are up to something”

“It’s a surprise” Touya smirks “you’ll find out after dinner.”

You spent your day sandwiched between the two men in your new bed watching movies, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. It was strange how you didn’t feel like a complete third wheel. Instead, you felt like you were apart of the relationship and you were happy. You can’t even remember the last time you had a good time like this.

At last, it was dinner time. The two left your room minutes prior to “prepare your surprise” in Keigo’s words. You decided to change your clothes while you waited for the ok to come down. Just as you finished up, one of Keigo’s feathers tapped your shoulder.

You were greeted with blue and yellow eyes when you entered the dining room. Feathers pulled out your chair while the others sat down in their seats.

Fish, rice bowls, and other foods were placed on the table. You ate in silence, mainly because you didn’t want to choke, while the others talked amongst themselves.

“Y/n-Chan” Toga whined “Why are you so quiet over there?”

“The food is so good,” you say after swallowing a mouth full of rice, “I want to eat as much as possible”

Kurogiri nods in your direction at the compliment. Dinner goes on with Dabi and Shigaraki arguing over who’s the strongest and You and Keigo exchanging flirty glances and middle fingers.

“Hey Y/n, Trynna steal my boyfriend?” Touya teases.

“You’re going to have to share Mr. Blueflame” you tease back. Everybody laughs as you two keep going back and forth.

“Alright Alright. Dinners over. Time for your surprise Y/n” Touya announced.

Everybody looked at you with sinister smirks as Keigo helped you out of your seat. You were led to the basement where two seats were on opposite sides of the room with a camera in the middle.

You sat in the chair closest to the door and watched Touya and Shigi bring in someone in handcuffs with a trash bag over their head.

“Guys what’s going…” you stopped talking when Shigaraki dusts the bag off the person’s head. But it wasn’t a person, no.

It was him. The monster that kept you captive for months. The monster that stripped you of your innocence and ruined your life plans. You felt your blood begin to boil as you stood out of your chair.

“Y/n?” The older man groaned. Touya punched him in his jaw before he could speak again.

“Don’t you dare say her fucking name” He spat. He then turned to you with soft(ish) eyes. “Don’t worry. The cuffs are quirk canceling”

“Do your worst baby bird” Keigo whispered into your ear.

You motioned for everyone to move out of the way as you walked towards your new captive. “Remember this face in your next life” You whisper.

You boiled the water in his body and smiled at the bubbles visibly forming on the surface of his skin. As the man before you screams in pain, you walk towards the camera that was recording the whole thing.

“Smile for the camera Enji. Why don’t you tell little Shoto where’d you take me all those months ago. Why I could no longer pick him up from school on Fridays” You toy with the corpse. You watched as blood began to seep through his skin “You’ve always told me to give you what you want. This time it is you who will give me what I want”

“Hey Dabi” Keigo whispered “Is it just me or is Y/N kinda hot when she’s committing murder”

The ravenette nodded at his boyfriend’s statement. You were indeed hot as hell murdering his father. Your abuser. He froze, just as he was about to add a comment, when you spun the camera around to face him and Keigo.

“Say hi Dabi” You smile at the two. “Hi Hawks”

“You’ve officially lost it baby bird”

“I agree. Crazy looks good on you” Touya adds.

You turn the camera off and hand it to Kurogiri. You walk over to the couple with a pout on your face “He’s dead now. My fun’s over”

“Oh no no no” Touya teasingly pulled you into his chest by your waist “The fun is just beginning. Right, Keigo?”

Keigo pushes his groin against your ass and nibbles on your earlobe.“That’s right babe” he whispered “We’re going to help you reclaim what’s yours”

——————-——————

A/n: So there’s smut to this fic😭 but I won’t post it unless this does good. Anyways, HAPPY NEW YEAR.

[vampiredecay]

I Can Hear Your Heart Beat (Part 1)

A/N: heyo! this is the first part of a two parter, in celebration of hitting a little over 50 followers! this was a prompt/suggestion from @n3on-lights , thank you again so much!! originally this was going to be one part, but i realized i was at 3k words and only half way done with the story, lol. so part two will be out soon! in the mean time, hope you enjoy this first half!

rating: teen

wordcount: 3,139

warnings/notes: swearing, descriptions of being in pain, half vamp!michael, human!lost boys, the boys turn back to human, implied minor character death, goodbye max, poly!lost boys, lost boys x michael

summary: after convincing sam that he wasn't going to kill him, michael raced to the hotel to seek answers about what he was becoming. little does he know, sam has his own plans up his sleeve, leaving the boys human for the first time in years, and michael still stuck as half vampire.

--

“Sammy, please!” Michael cried out, hanging onto the phone cord for dear life, hoping to whatever god out there was merciful enough to put some sense into his little brother's head. Sam just stared, debating if he should really let his brother in or not. He was floating outside his bedroom window like a freak, and he tried to eat him! But when Sam looked at him, at his older brother, he could see that he looked terrified. He's hardly ever seen Michael genuinely afraid, and he looks so human, despite the obvious circumstances. So, Sam takes a deep breath and walks over to the window, unlocking it and opening it for Michael to crawl through.

Michael counts his blessings as he drops onto the floor, takes in huge amounts of air that he doesn't really need. Sam sinks down to the floor next to him, and Michael grabs hold of him, wrapping his arms around him like he'll start flying away again. Sam tries not to squirm too much.

"What's goin on, Mike?" Sam whispers, his voice refusing to go any higher. Michael is shaking slightly, breathing heavily, so Sam tries again, "What did those bikers do to you?"

That gets a reaction out of him, a low growling sound from deep in his throat. Michael can hear Sam's heartbeat quicken and he has to swallow thickly. "I don't know, Sam. But I'll sort it out, okay?"

"But what about mom-" Sam tries, but Michael cuts him off, frantic, "Just- just don't tell her anything, okay? You gotta trust me, Sammy."

Sam wants to argue, this was way bigger than getting a bad grade on a test, or getting into a fight in school. His gut reaction was to tell his mom, because he knew she would try and make it okay again. But he also trusted his brother. Plus, he had more experience with these guys, so Sam nodded, deciding Michael had it covered. “Okay. I trust you.”

Michael let out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived once they heard their moms car screeching to a halt outside of the house. The boys frantically got up, looking at each other with wide eyes. “I gotta go, Sam. Distract mom for me, yeah?” There wasn’t any time to debate, so Sam just nodded and sprinted down the stairs. He didn't know how Michael was going to sneak out, but at this rate, he didn’t want to know.

When he got down stairs, the blond teen could hear his mom calling his name, and when the front door opened, he could see his mom looking worried like crazy. “Oh, Sam!” she said once she saw him, she sounded exhausted. “You scared me half to death!”

Sam felt guilt start to stir in his chest, he didn’t mean to make his mom worry so much. And the fact that he had to lie now didn’t help matters at all. “I’m okay, mom. I was reading a horror comic and I thought I saw someone outside my window- but I just got carried away, that's all.”

Lucy stared at her son, trying to understand the excuse he was feeding her. She squinted her eyes at him. “You got carried away by a comic book?”

Sam tried not to flinch, he knew it sounded like bullshit, but it was the best he could come up with on the fly. “It was a scary comic mom. I’m sorry.”

The look on his mom's face made it clear she was frustrated. She couldn’t believe how her boys were acting, like she didn’t raise them better. “You know, I’ve just about had it with the both of you, you know that?” Sam nodded his head and looked down at his feet, and she almost forgave him then. But then her eyes landed on the kitchen, and her frustration flared up all over again. “What is this mess?”

Sam looked over to where his mom was talking about, and saw the spilt milk and open fridge door. God damnit, Mike. He tried telling her that it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t listening, not that he could blame her at this point. When he was done cleaning up the floor, Sam raced up to his room, pausing to see that Michael had long gone. Wasting no more time, he launched himself on his bed and called the Frog brothers again.

It took a few rings, but eventually, Edgar had answered the call. “What?” he asked, short and coarse. Sam rushed to answer, “Guys, it's me again.”

Edgar sighed from over the phone, “What, Sam? We told you to stake your brother, what more do you want?”

“Look guys, Michael and I talked, he’s going to try and talk to the vamps that got him, but there has to be something more that we can do!”

There was some vague conversation that Sam couldn’t hear, then Alan was speaking, “Do you know if he made his first kill? Can he still walk in sunlight?”

“No, he hasn’t killed anyone, and yes, he can still walk in sunlight.” Sam said, “That means he’s only half shit sucker, right?”

Alan grumbled into the phone, like he didn’t want to be entertaining this idea at all. “Yes, so technically, if you kill the head vampire, all half vampires would return to being human.” Sam was ready to celebrate, he was about to say something like “hell yeah!”, but then Alan asked something that made him cut the celebration short. “Does your brother know who the head vampire is?”

“Uh,” Sam mumbled, "No, I don't think so."

"We can't screw around anymore, Sam." Edgar said, taking the phone back. "Kill your brother, or we'll be forced to do it for you "

"Wait, no!" Sam shouted, desperate to think of something that would help. "We just gotta find the head vampire, right? We-" as he was talking, Sam suddenly thought of something. "Actually, I might know who the head vampire is."

"What?" Edgar asked, voice high and tight. "Well, this all started when my mom started working at Max's video store."

He could hear both the Frogs groaning. "Wait guys, hear me out! He doesn't come in till after dark, he has a dog that's always growling at people, and I read that vampires have hell hounds as companions!"

"Well duh, but-" Edgar started, but Sam cut him off. "If my mom is dating the head vampire, you guys can nail him and save Santa Carla!"

The Frogs were silent for a few seconds, so Sam tacked on "Truth, justice, and the American way triumphs, thanks to you two."

That seemed to convince them, because after a few more seconds, Edgar said "Alright, we'll check Max out. Tonight. Get ready, we'll come get you in ten minutes."

Sam froze, mouth open wide against the phone. "Tonight? Can't we wait until tomorrow?"

"This was your idea, Sam." Alan said, more rustling could be heard from the background. "If Max is clean, we're coming for your brother and his friends tomorrow. Be ready." Before Sam could say anything more, they hung up the phone.

--

When Michael got to the hotel, it was dark and quiet. There weren't as many candles lit, making shadows dance and flicker against the walls, and the only sounds Michael could hear were drops of water bouncing around the cave.

"David?" Michael called out, walking further into the hotel. The place was eerie now, without the boys there, dancing and laughing and joking around. "David? Anyone here?"

Where the hell were they? Michael was getting agitated, a hot irritation settling under his skin as he looked around the cave. If they weren't even here, he didn't know what he was going to do. Michael needed answers, he needed to know what the hell was happening to him.

"I'm not fucking around." The brunette said to the air. "I want answers, and I want them now!"

Silence. Michael snarled at nothing and turned around to stomp towards the exit, but then he heard an all too familiar voice echoing out the cave.

"I'm right here, Michael."

David was standing at the entrance, Dwayne, Paul and Marko lurking behind him. The platinum blond gave a wide smirk as he walked down into the cave, eyeing the angry halfling. “What’s going on?”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Michael demanded, walking right up to David and getting into his face. David cocked an eyebrow as the rest of the boys surrounded him, whispering and laughing. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Cut the bullshit! I’m hungry, I’m in pain, I was floating on the goddamn ceiling-”

“Woah,” Paul interrupted, sounding amazed, “You got there already? It took me a while-” Marko kicked Paul’s leg before he could continue, making the blond rocker yelp loudly. David cleared his throat and suddenly looked deadly serious. “You drank from the bottle, Michael. You’re one of us now.”

“But what the hell does that mean?” Michael was starting to feel drained, he was so tired of going around in circles, and it feels like he hasn’t gotten proper sleep in weeks. “What the fuck was in that bottle that makes me float off the ground and makes me want to eat my brother?”

The boys all looked at each other like they were having a silent conversation.

“Take it easy, man.” Dwayne said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He was smiling like nothing was off or weird about this situation at all. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just go with the flow.”

Michael was about to ask what he’d “get the hang of”, but Marko spoke before he could. “It’s getting late, you should probably go home.” The way he spoke and the look he gave had an air of finality, like fighting would get him nowhere. This had been a huge waste of time.

“Fine.” Michael spit, shoving past David roughly as he walked towards the entrance. He would have to find answers some other way. As much as he hated it, he might have to resort to Sam’s weird friends. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but they seemed to be the only other ones who knew anything about-

“Wait!” Paul called out, making Michael stop in his tracks. He turned around and looked at Paul, who had a weird look on his face. His eyebrows were scrunched down and he held a hand to his middle. “Do you guys feel that?”

The others looked confused, but soon their faces contorted into concern and agitation. Marko’s hand shot to Paul's arm, gripping like his life depended on it, while Dwayne and David held onto each other, as if keeping each other from falling. Marko was panting, “What the fu-”

Suddenly, Markos words were cut off by a loud screeching sound. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin as the boys started shouting and screaming, falling to the ground hard. The halfling stared at them in shock.

“What happened?! What's wrong?!” Michael asked frantically, panicked, running back over and crouching over the pile of writhing bodies. No one could answer, the only sounds coming from them were grunts and whimpers of pain. Michael could only stand and watch, horrified that he had no idea what was going on.

After what felt like an eternity, the screaming stopped. The boys stopped convulsing on the ground, completely still and silent, like they passed out. The silence was deafening now. Michael slowly walked over to David, breathing heavily, anxious out of his mind. He placed a gentle hand to his cheek, finding him surprisingly warm. He checked his pulse, then, and found a shallow, but steady heart beat. Michael then checked the other boys and found the same warmth and beat. The teen sighed in relief, they were all alive, at least. They seemed to be out cold, though, and Michael knew that he needed to move them from the cold hard ground.

One by one, he moved each of the boys to a chair or couch, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Michael looked around, but didn’t find any stashed food or water, so he decided to hurry out and get them something to eat when they woke up. He didn’t know if they would be hungry or not, but it would be worth the try.

Michael sped on his bike to the nearest convenience store and grabbed a basket, stuffing it with random chips and snacks. He also grabbed a few bottles of water and threw it in the basket. When he went up to the counter to pay, the cashier gave him an odd look, but he just smiled awkwardly. The total almost drained his wallet, which hurt, but there were more important things to worry about right now.

The trip back to the hotel was a bit of a pain in the ass, but he managed to get there in one piece. He parked his bike and hauled the food and water down into the cave, and when he was in the main lobby, he was startled to see that the boys were awake. They were all huddled around each other, holding and touching in whatever way they could. All of them wore similar shocked, concerned and disturbed expressions on their faces. It almost felt wrong to intrude on them, but he accidentally made a noise and alerted the boys to his presence.

“Michael?” David called out, but his voice was smaller, less sure. Michael immediately walked over to them, setting the bag down as he squatted next to the couch they were all piled in.

“Hey, are you guys okay? What the hell happened?” As he talked, Michael pulled out bottles of water and handed them out to each of the boys. They snatched the bottles out of his hands and opened them like they haven’t drank water in years, guzzling down the liquid and getting it all over themselves in the process.

“Woah, guys, slow down-” But they didn’t listen, not even if they started choking and coughing. When the waters were drained, Paul crawled over everyone to grab the bag full of snacks and dig through it.

“Michael.” David said, looking intensely at his face, studying every inch he could look at. He grabbed at Michaels arm and pulled him closer. “Do you feel any different? Did you change back?”

The brunette stared at him, bewildered. “Change? No, I feel the same as before.”

David's eyes widened, and Paul stopped tearing into a bag of potato chips, mouth gaping. “Wait, he’s still half? How’s that possible?”

Marko and Dwayne gave each other a disbelieving look, and Michael scrunched up his face in confusion. “Half what? What are you guys talking about?”

No one said anything for a long moment. David sighed and ran his hands through his spiked hair. “I guess we have no choice but to tell you.”

Michael watched as David sat up straighter, a pained look on his face, like his whole body ached. He looked uncomfortable as he said, “We were vampires, Michael. And you’re one, too. Half, anyway. You still haven’t made your first kill.”

So many thoughts and questions flooded Michaels mind at that moment. His first reaction was to call David crazy, but he remembered what it felt like to fly out his bedroom window, how painfully hungry he was and how loud he could hear Sam's heartbeat, even from the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was fading and weak. Michael couldn’t fuckin believe this.

Michael stood up so fast he felt lightheaded. “So- you’re telling me,” He started, pacing in front of the couch. The rest of the boys were no longer paying attention, too busy devouring the snacks from the bag, but David was watching him walk back and forth. “That I’m a half vampire. An actual, honest to god vampire. That’s just fuckin great!” Michael shouted, and David winced at the sound.

“Wait.” The halfling stopped pacing and turned back to the platinum blond. “What do you mean you were a vampire?”

David blew air through his nose like an angry bull. He shifted around in his seat before answering, “We have a master. Or, I guess we did. If the vampire that turned you dies, you turn back into a human.”

“Which must be why Michael hasn’t turned back.” Dwayne chimed in suddenly, still chewing loudly on chips. Michael was lost at this point, which must have been clear on his face, cause Marko pitched in with, “You drank David’s blood from the bottle, not Max’s. David didn’t die, just turned back into a human. So, therefore, you can’t go back to being human.”

Michael didn’t know which fact he hated more, that his mom's dorky (now ex, he supposed) boyfriend was a head vampire, or that he drank actual blood. A lot of it, if he remembered properly. He groaned loudly and sank to the floor, head in his hands. “So you’re saying I'm stuck like this?”

“Well…” Paul started, but didn’t get to finish. David interrupted, irritation clear in his voice. “We don’t know. We don’t know jack shit.”

The tension was thick in the air. Michael had no idea what they were going to do now. Living in a sunken hotel may have been okay when they were vampires, but it’s not gonna fly being human. He knew he couldn’t just leave them here. Michael sighed and stood back up, walking over to the entrance. It was still dark out, but he figured it was going to be morning soon. He walked back down and stood in front of the boys.

“Look, we’ll figure out how to change me back,” David huffed at that, looking less than amused. Michael rolled his eyes. “But until then, you guys are basically homeless. Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?”

The boys froze. They looked at each other, and they looked at Michael, wondering if this was some kind of joke. They had lived in that cave so long it felt like forever, they couldn’t imagine leaving what they considered their home.

“What about your mom? And your brother?” David asked, knowing that it couldn’t be that easy, right? Surely Michaels family would bitch about them being there. But Michael didn’t look bothered. “Sam can be an ass, but he’ll deal. And my mom wouldn’t kick you guys out.”

David was still hesitant. He still didn’t want to believe he was human again, after all these years. It hurts to even think about it. He felt a nudge against his shoulder, and when he looked over, he saw Marko, shrugging his shoulders.

“What do we have left to lose?”