#and not to mention it's two separate victims

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Toy Soldier (part 5)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Dark Content: Sexual Assault Wounds (Bucky). Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con (both characters as victims).

Word Count: 7.3k

Previous Chapter

The next day, she messaged Sam, asking if he could stop by her house before the briefing. His reply came quickly, surprised but agreeable, suggesting a time two hours before the meeting. When the knock finally came, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever reaction he might have.

She opened the door to his familiar, easy smile, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. “Hey,” he greeted casually, stepping inside when she gestured for him to come in. “This feels serious. What’s up?”

She led him to the couch, motioning for him to sit. Her palms were clammy, and her fingers twitched slightly as she sat across from him. “It is,” she admitted, “And... I need you to hear me out before you say anything.”

That wiped the smile from his face. Sam leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “Okay. I’m listening.”

She inhaled deeply, and then, she started. From her life before Hydra -her simple, ordinary life in the 60s- to the day everything changed. The kidnapping. The endless, suffocating years as a prisoner, a tool. Her voice faltered as she described the barest surface of what she’d endured and what she’d been forced to do regarding the Winter Soldier. She tried to keep the focus on herself, omitting the details that might betray Bucky’s privacy, but it was impossible to completely separate their pasts.

Sam listened without interrupting, his expression shifted with every new revelation: concern, disbelief, pity, before being replaced with something softer. Compassion.

When she finished, she let out a shuddering breath, slumping her shoulders. “I’m sorry I never told you anything about... this. For giving you my manufactured past. For lying to you about who I am.”

He shook his head immediately. “Don’t apologize for that. It’s your story, and it’s yours to share whenever you’re ready. Or not at all. I get why you didn’t say anything. Hell, I can even understand why the government kept it locked up.” His gaze softened, leaning back slightly. “But it doesn’t change a damn thing. I never doubted our friendship. Not for a second.”

Relief bloomed in her chest at his words. She managed a small smile, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. “Thank you, Sammy”.

Sam nodded, and then his expression grew thoughtful. “So... that’s why Bucky knew you couldn’t heal yourself?”

“Yeah.” She gave a short, almost bitter laugh. “The information was never given by Hydra to him, but there were... moments. Times when he saw me.” Her eyes drifted downward. “And I guess he connected the dots. If I could heal myself, why would I walk around for days with a bruised lip, or limping?”

Sam exhaled slowly, his brow furrowing. “Damn.”

She nodded, tightening her hands together. “Yeah.”

“And... I didn’t tell you this either,” she hesitated, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Bucky and I... we’ve been seeing each other. After Poland.”

Sam’s brow quirked, a small, curious smile tugging at his lips. “Oh?”

She exhaled, searching for the right words. “Just... reconnecting. Or connecting. I don’t know exactly what to call it yet. Our relationship -if you can even call it that- back then didn’t precisely involve normal conversation over coffee.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “So, the Winter Sulkier talks to you over coffee?”

That drew a chuckle from her lips, lightening the tension in the air. “Yeah. I mean, he’s more of a listener most of the time, but yeah, he talks.”

Sam’s smile softened as he observed her, but she dropped her gaze to her hands again, and her expression turned more serious. “Thing is... he was here yesterday when you called me about the mission. And when I mentioned Argentina and a large crew heading there...” She paused, tightening her fingers together. “He got all worked up. I think he intuits there’s something to do with them.”

Sam’s expression darkened, and his easy demeanor faded. He shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He isn’t wrong.”

Her chest tightened at the confirmation, but she continued. “He left immediately after that. Told me to talk to you about... us.” She hesitated, then added, “And, that he’s coming.”

Sam let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Of course he did.”

“I tried to tell him it wasn’t his decision to make,” she said quickly, “But…”

“-there’s no stopping him,” Sam finished with a faint shake of his head, a flicker of exasperation in his tone. “Yeah, I know.”

----

Sam drove them to the briefing at the DHS Strategic Operations Center, a heavily-secured government facility that handled covert international assignments. The building loomed large, with its sleek gray façade and high-security checkpoints manned by armed guards.

To her surprise -or not-, when they entered the briefing room, Bucky was already there, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. He looked calm, but the tension in his posture told her otherwise.

Sam quirked a brow at him, gesturing vaguely toward the entrance. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Bucky just stared at him in response, with an unreadable expression.

“Seriously, man,” Sam pressed, muttering something under his breath, shaking his head as he took a seat. She, on the other hand, couldn’t help but smile faintly at him, though the knot of worry in her stomach hadn’t eased.

The room began to fill with agents and operatives, and a few heads turned toward Bucky, with flashing recognition across their faces. It was clear that having both the Winter Soldier and the Falcon in the operation was a major bonus for the mission and a point of fascination for everyone in the room.

She slid into a chair beside Sam, sneaking a glance at Bucky, who had claimed a spot near the corner of the table. He caught her eye briefly, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.

“Looks like the government’s thrilled to have their star players,” she murmured under her breath to Sam.

----

The room fell silent as the operation leader stood at the head of the table, pointing to a digital map of Ushuaia Province projected on the wall. “As suspected, there’s an active Hydra facility in the region. Thanks to intel provided by Argentina’s military forces, we’ve identified its exact location. It’s heavily fortified, with multiple levels of security and a significant number of personnel. Resistance is expected to be strong, and casualties are a possibility.”

The words hung heavy and foreboding between the crew.

“As we continue,” the leader said, turning toward her, “your role is crucial. Due to the expected resistance, we need you on the field, embedded with a group of agents. Your abilities may be needed in the heat of the fight. Even some casualties won’t be avoidable, your presence could make the difference between life and death for many of our operatives.”

Bucky’s body tensed immediately, snapping his sharp gaze to the leader. He didn’t wait to be addressed, didn’t wait for permission to speak. “No,” he said firmly, his voice cut through the room like a blade. “I don’t agree.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Excuse me?”

Bucky straightened from his spot, squaring his broad shoulders. “Sending her into a live combat zone? With Hydra? It’s a mistake. She doesn’t belong on the front lines, she belongs somewhere safe. She can work from a plane or a secure location if you need her. Putting her directly in danger is reckless.”

She could feel the weight of his words pressing against her like a physical force, but her focus was on the leader, not him.

“Barnes,” the leader started, “with all due respect, this isn’t your call-”

“No, but it’s common sense,” Bucky cut in, hardening his voice. “If things go south, she’s the one they’ll target first. Do you really think they wouldn’t recognize her? That they wouldn’t know what she can do and what she’s worth to them?”

Her heart clenched at the words, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood, scraping her chair softly against the floor as she rose to her feet.

“Enough,” she said sharply, interrupting him.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and his gaze snapped to her, but she didn’t look at him. Her eyes were locked on the operation leader, unwavering and resolute.

“I’m in,” she said firmly.

“You don’t-” Bucky’s voice carried a mix of frustration and concern, but she turned to him before he could say more.

“I said I’m in, Bucky,” she repeated, in a softer tone this time but no less determined. “This is my choice.”

The room was silent again, the tension thick in the air as the leader gave her a small nod. “Good. Then we’ll move forward as planned.”

Bucky’s hands flexed into fists at his sides, but he said nothing more. She could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his disapproval and concern, but she didn’t falter.

This was her fight too. And she wouldn’t let anyone -not even him- take that from her.

The operation leader continued detailing the roles while pointing to the screen. “Barnes, your job is to breach and clear one of the facility’s entrances. You’ll be working with a tactical unit to infiltrate and eliminate the immediate threats on the perimeter.”

Bucky crossed his arms, flexing a muscle in his jaw. “I’ll go with her team.”

The room collectively turned to look at him, as the team leader narrowed his eyes in displeasure. “That’s not your assignment.”

“Well, I’m making it mine,” Bucky said, sharp and unwavering.

Sam let out a low scoff, raising a brow at his partner. “You’re just great at following orders.”

Bucky shot him a sidelong glare but ignored the jab, turning back his attention to the leader. “Let’s be honest,” he said, his tone bordering on cocky. “I’m the best asset you’ve got going in there. If she’s on the field, it makes sense for me to stay close. She makes sure I keep going, and I’m the one who can get her out in one piece.”

The leader leaned forward slightly, clearly distressed by the audacity. His hands fell flat on the table. “You’re overestimating your authority here, Barnes. This isn’t a solo mission.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Bucky replied “But if something goes wrong, I’d rather she have me at her back than anyone else.”

Another agent, seated further down the table, cleared their throat. “With all due respect, Sergeant Barnes, you’re probably not the one who’d need her help. You’re a super soldier. You’ve got advanced healing, stamina, and the works. If she’s in the field, she’ll be more useful to the non-enhanced units who’ll be taking the brunt of the fight.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue but stopped short. He knew she was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t need her assistance. He wanted her nearby for reasons that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the protectiveness that burned in his chest.

His jaw tightened again, but he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, forcing himself to back down. “Fine,” he muttered, though the word sounded like it was dragged out of him.

The operation leader’s gaze lingered on Bucky for a moment longer before he turned back to the room. “Then it’s settled. Everyone knows their roles. We leave in three days. Dismissed.”

As chairs scraped and the room began to clear, Sam caught up to Bucky near the door. “So, what’s the plan now, guard dog? Gonna give her a tracking device or a leash?”

Bucky shot him a look that could kill. “Not now.”

Sam grinned, unbothered. “Just saying, man. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Bucky ignored him, drifting his gaze to where she stood by the table, gathering her things. She glanced up, catching his eye, and offered a small, reassuring smile.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He might not be able to stay by her side during the mission, but one way or another, he’d make sure she came out of it safe. Even if it killed him.

----

They didn’t see each other again until they boarded the plane. She spotted him immediately, seated at the far side of the hold, inspecting one of his many weapons with mechanical precision.

Bucky was fully geared up, every inch of him screaming Winter Soldier in a way that made her chest tighten uncomfortably. His tactical suit, dark and imposing, seemed like it was made to swallow him whole, to erase every ounce of humanity she knew was there. Knives, pistols, ammo, -there were more weapons strapped to him than she thought possible-, and Sam, seated nearby, muttered under his breath as he caught sight of him.

“Jesus, Buck,” he quipped, leaning back in his seat with an incredulous look. “Where do you keep all that? Got a secret pocket dimension you haven’t told us about?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t even glance up, focused on the rifle in his hands as he loaded it with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession.

She hesitated before sitting down, diagonal to his, close enough to see the taut lines of his jaw and the cold set of his features. He was somewhere else entirely, locked inside his head in a way that made her stomach twist.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her knee as she debated. Eventually, she mustered the courage to try and break through the wall he had so obviously put up. “Bucky,” she started softly, testing the waters.

He didn’t look at her. “What?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said curtly and dismissive.

She tried again, leaning forward slightly, lacing her tone with a touch of warmth this time. “You’ve been quiet since the briefing. I just... wanted to check in.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said flatly. He finally looked up, but it was brief, just a glance before he turned back to the rifle.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and the pang of melancholy deepened. He was shutting her out, retreating into himself in a way that felt impenetrable. She wanted to say something more, to push through the wall he’d built around himself, but every clipped answer was like a door slammed in her face.

Eventually, she leaned back in her seat, slumping her shoulders slightly. Sam, catching the shift in her demeanor, leaned over and nudged her gently. “You good?”

She gave him a tight smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

Sam didn’t press further, but his gaze flicked between her and Bucky, knitting his brows together in thought.

The hours of the flight passed in uncomfortable silence. She stopped trying to talk to Bucky, resigning herself to the fact that he wasn’t in a place to let her in. Instead, she found herself leaning on Sam, who kept the mood light with his casual banter and stories, though she knew he could see the strain on her face.

----

After 22 long hours of flight, the group finally arrived at Ushuaia, skipping any rest stops and heading straight to the location marked on the map as the Hydra facility. The biting -7°C temperature hit them the moment they stepped off the plane, but no one said a word. Adrenaline and focus were locked firmly on the upcoming assault.

As the team deployed, spreading out to take their positions, she adjusted the straps of her gear, ready to follow her assigned group, when she felt a hand wrap around her forearm, halting her steps.

It was Bucky.

Before she could say a word, he gently tugged her closer, his steel-blue eyes piercing through the dim light of the icy morning. Without hesitation, he dipped his head, resting his forehead lightly against hers. The gesture was intimate in a way that caught her completely off guard.

“Stay safe, doll,” he murmured, barely audible over the wind. His other hand slid to her lower back, a solid and steadying touch that sent warmth spreading through her chest despite the freezing air. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused around them.

Before she could respond, he pulled back, slipping his hand from her back as he released her. The touch lingered like an imprint on her skin, a phantom sensation she couldn’t shake.

He gave her a small, firm nod, and then turned, walking away to take his position. She stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing and her thoughts spinning in a blur. She didn’t notice the tiny tracker he’d deftly pressed onto the back of her jacket, concealed in one of the seams.

She exhaled deeply, shaking her head as she regrouped with her team. It was only after they began their cautious advance toward the Hydra’s den that she realized she hadn’t said anything back.

----

Bucky's moves were methodical and relentless, bordering on terrifying. His rifle barked sharp bursts of gunfire as his entry key. The initial resistance barely had time to register what hit them before he had breached their defenses with precise and purposeful shots, clearing the way with deadly efficiency. Once inside, the rifle was slung across his back, and he transitioned to pistols, twin bursts of fire that cut through the dimly lit hallways.

When a close-range ambush came at them, he didn’t falter. A knife was in his hand before the first attacker could barely move, and the blade moved in a blur as he parried, slashed, and dropped him in seconds. His other hand went for another approaching assailant, and the dull thud of his fist meeting flesh sickly reverberated down the hallway. The third guy went down with a savage elbow strike to the jaw, that sent the man crumpling against the wall.

The facility was a maze, and he navigated it with an almost preternatural awareness, dispatching any Hydra remnants that dared to cross his path.

Behind him, his team could barely keep up. “Does he even need us?” one of them muttered under their breath, clutching their assault gun tightly as they followed, watching Bucky tear through Hydra’s defenses like a one-man wrecking crew. They focused on providing cover and securing the areas he left in his wake, though it felt almost redundant.

He wasn’t reckless, he was purposeful. Every move was efficient, calculated like a finely tuned machine operating at full capacity. And beneath that precision, was a driving force, a singular thought that fueled him: finish this, finish it fast, get to her.

He turned a corner into a wider room where a group of agents had set up a defensive line. Their gunfire erupted the moment they saw him, but he was already moving. His body twisted as he sprinted toward them, weaving through the barrage with inhuman speed. A flash grenade from his belt bought him the split second he needed to close the distance. When the deafening pop and blinding light cleared, he was in the middle of their formation.

One went down with a knife to the gut, another with a pistol shot to the temple. The third tried to grapple him, only to be met with a swift blow from his vibranium arm that sent him sprawling. Bucky didn’t stop. His fists drove into ribs and jaws, his knives carving through the last line of resistance like it was nothing. Blood splattered onto the cold floors, and the once-deafening room fell silent except for his steady breathing.

The radio on his team leader crackled. “Barnes, status?”

“Clear,” he grunted, wiping the blade of his knife on his sleeve and sheathing it in one fluid motion. His team moved in behind him, sweeping the room as they murmured amongst themselves about the inhuman force of his assault.

He barely heard them. His mind was already elsewhere. His heart was pounding, not from exertion, but from the worry that ate away at him. The sooner his end of the mission was done, the sooner he could ensure she was safe.

----

As Bucky cleared the last room in his assigned sector, he took a final sweep, ensuring no hidden threats remained. The bodies left in his wake weren’t his concern, only the safety of his team, and more importantly, her. So he turned around and started walking away.

He moved like a shadow through the corridors, silent and methodical, operating on pure instinct. The tracker he’d slipped into her clothes pulsed steadily on his HUD, leading him through the labyrinth of sterile hallways and flickering overhead lights. Hydra never changed, their bases were practically carbon copies, and he used that to his advantage, cutting through shortcuts only an old ghost like him would know.

Gunfire crackled in the distance, shouts echoing through the steel walls, but none of it mattered to him.

He picked up the pace as he neared her location, tightening his grip around the pistol in his flesh hand, his vibranium fingers twitching in anticipation. Then, finally, he reached her sector.

The sight before him sent a cold fury ripping through his chest.

The fight was still ongoing and it was clear her team was barely holding on. Some were down, some wounded, and the rest were outnumbered. But Bucky’s eyes only locked onto one thing: the asset trying to restrain her.

She was struggling. He could see the way her limbs lagged just a second too slow, the way her stance wavered ever so slightly, she was exhausted. She’d burned herself out healing the others, and now they were trying to take her.

The bastard restraining her was big, armored, and clearly enhanced. Bucky already knew the type, one of Hydra’s modern knockoff attempts at recreating him. The man had his arm locked around her middle, wrestling to subdue her, while his other hand reached for a syringe strapped to his vest.

Bucky didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

His pistol fired once. Clean, direct. The bullet punched through the asset’s wrist, making him snarl and drop the syringe before he could use it.

Before the man could react, Bucky was already on him.

The Winter Soldier resurfaced with brutal efficiency. He grabbed the man by the vest and threw him off her like a ragdoll, sending him crashing into a nearby crate. The asset barely had time to groan before Bucky was on him again, landing a punishing strike to the ribs, then another to the jaw.

The bastard recovered quickly, swinging at Bucky’s head, but he dodged with ease, catching the incoming arm and twisting sharply. The asset howled, but Bucky silenced him with a savage punch that sent him sprawling.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

He didn’t stop until the man stopped moving.

When he finally turned, he found her staring at him, breathing hard. Her hair was disheveled, her face marked with sweat and dirt, but she was alive.

Still his.

High on adrenaline, Bucky turned toward the dantesque scene unfolding around him. Her team was struggling, pinned down by the remaining opposition, outnumbered and exhausted.

So he moved.

The first man barely had time to register his presence before Bucky’s knife found his ribs, twisting with brutal precision. The second one lunged at him, and Bucky let him, sidestepping at the last second and slamming his elbow into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe. They kept coming but the room was cleared in minutes. Efficient. Lethal. Over.

His feet carried him forward before his brain even fully registered it, his hands reaching for her the second he was close enough. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his chest rising and falling against hers as he tried to steady himself.

His face found the crook of her neck, and he inhaled deeply, calming himself with her scent. She was real, she was safe.

She was trembling, whether from exhaustion or leftover adrenaline, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just held her tighter, curling his fingers into the fabric of her tactical gear, pressing her against him like he could shield her from everything.

He didn’t speak. He just held on, waiting for his heart to stop hammering, for the instinct to fight, to kill, to protect, to settle into something quieter.

He didn’t let go. Not yet. Not for a long while.

----

She let him hold on, basking in his unrelenting grip. But as the minutes stretched, something felt wrong in her chest, a creeping worry she couldn’t shake.

“Bucky,” she breathed against his ear, trying to pull back just enough to see his face.

He didn’t answer.

Her hands skimmed over his back, searching for wounds, for anything out of place. “Bucky, are you hurt? Let me see you.”

Nothing. No response. If anything, his arms locked tighter around her.

She leaned back slightly, shifting her hands to his face, ready to insist -look at me, talk to me- but then she saw it.

The empty stare. The idle, blank eyes she knew too well.

Her stomach dropped.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, gentle but firm. She inhaled deeply before trying. “Soldat?”

A barely-there shudder ran through his body. His grip twitched, tightening before loosening just the slightest bit.

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly where he was, adrift in the space between past and present, somewhere dark, somewhere cold. She cupped his face,  sweeping her thumbs over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. “Listen, everything is fine now. We are safe, you did good. You can rest.”

Her breath hitched as his grip slipped down and tightened around her thighs, and the world tilted violently as he hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Soldat-” she started, but he moved with single-minded purpose, boots echoing heavily against the bloodstained floor as he strode down the corridor.

The others tried to move after them, with evident concern. “Stand down,” she called over her shoulder, her voice firmer than she felt. “Don’t- don’t interfere.” Because if they do…

They hesitated, but obeyed, exchanging wary glances as the two disappeared around a corner.

“Soldat,” she tried again. “Put me down. I’m fine. Where are we going?”

No answer. Not even a flicker of recognition. His grip remained firm, arms locked around her legs, his vibranium hand pressing against the small of her back to keep her steady.

The hallways blurred past in a dizzying, all-too-familiar pattern. He knew where he was going. Of course he did. Hydra never changed their layouts, never altered their twisted efficiency.

And then he stopped. A metal door loomed ahead, slightly ajar, the faded remnants of a red cross still painted on its surface.

The infirmary.

Before she could speak, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. She staggered slightly as he set her down “What are you-“

But he wasn’t listening. Not really. He pressed his back against the door, sliding down until he sat on the cold floor with one bent knee and the other stretched out. His head tilted back against the cold metal with a dull thud, and his eyes flicked shut for just a second before snapping open again. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths. His gaze landed unfocused somewhere in the distance.

She took a cautious step forward, lowering her voice. “Soldat?”

His fingers twitched.

The only thing she could think to do was play along. Her pulse hammered in her throat, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. First, she pressed a hand to her comm, switching to Sam’s channel. Keeping a steady voice, she whispered, “Sammy, I’m fine. My side of the facility is clear, but there’s… a complication with Bucky. My teammates will fill you in. Just don’t come looking for us. Please. I need you to make them understand.”

There was a long pause, before Sam’s voice finally came through the crackle of static, lower, graver than usual. “…You sure about this?”

Her gaze flicked back to Soldat, watching the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, coiled like a spring. She swallowed hard. “Yes. Let me handle it.”

Another pause. Then, a resigned sigh. “Alright. But if you need backup-”

“I’ll let you know.” She shut off the comm before he could argue, pushing the outside world aside.

----

She clasped her hands in front of her, standing straighter, adopting the crisp authority she’d seen Hydra’s handlers use a thousand times before.

“I need a mission report.”

His fingers twitched again. His gaze flickered -just slightly- but it stayed distant, unfocused, locked somewhere behind her rather than on her.

A long beat of silence.

Her stomach clenched.

She took another step closer. “Soldat,” she repeated, keeping her tone firm but even. “Mission report. Now.”

His jaw worked, and a slow inhale expanded his chest.

“…Facility neutralized.” The words came rough and automatic, like a reflex. His voice was lower than usual, mechanical, like the syllables were pulled from his throat against his will. “Threats eliminated.”

She swallowed. “And my status?”

His breath stuttered slightly. His fingers flexed, curling into loose fists before releasing.

“Secure,” he said after a pause.

She exhaled quietly, steadying herself.

Her mind raced for the next step. She couldn’t just order him out of this. She needed to guide him back. She took a slow breath, crouching down to his level, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Good,” she murmured. “So… mission’s over now, right?”

Another twitch. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

She hesitated, then reached forward, brushing featherily his vibranium knuckles. No sudden moves. No pressure. “Remember what happens when a mission is over? You let me check on you and I get you all better.”

He hesitated. His brows knitted together as though sifting through fragmented, conflicting commands buried deep in his mind. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a single, curt nod.

A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding slipped from her lips.

“You did good,” she said again, keeping a reassuring voice. “Go sit on the stretcher and let me see you.”

He stood immediately at her command, a well-oiled machine running on deeply ingrained instinct. With precise, practiced movements, he removed his rifle, his sidearm, and every knife tucked into his gear. Each weapon clattered softly onto the nearby tray, in a quiet, chilling symphony of steel.

Then, without hesitation, he stripped away his tactical vest, shrugging out of it like armor no longer needed. His Henley followed, baring his torso under the harsh, sterile light of the infirmary. His skin was streaked with sweat and blood. The deep, ugly wounds carved into him were the only indication that he wasn’t invincible.

He sat on the stretcher with squared shoulders and rested his hands on his thighs as he stared ahead. Silent. Waiting.

Her breath hitched when she saw the extent of the damage. Two large-caliber bullet wounds, one grazing his ribs, the other embedded deeper near his shoulder. A deep stab wound on his side, red and angry. The blood had slowed to a sluggish trickle, but the damage was undeniable.

She inhaled heavily, steeling herself, knowing she was running on fumes. She had drained so much of herself in the fight, trying to keep others alive, trying to be useful. But she couldn't stop now. Not when he was in front of her, hurt because of her.

Her hands hovered over the worst wound, shaking slightly before she forced them to steady. Focus. Do what you have to.

But as she pressed her glowing fingers to his skin, and the warmth of her power seeped into his body, another weight settled over her. Guilt.

He came here because of her.

He got hurt because of her.

And worst of all… his mind was slipping, because of her. Regressing into something she wasn’t sure she could pull him back from. She choked on a sob, and her vision blurred as she fought to keep her hands steady, mending his torn flesh.

The sound made his jaw tick, and something shifted in his expression. Slowly, he turned his head to her, knitting his brows together as he took in the sight of her tear-streaked face. His gaze flickered toward the door -searching, assessing-before settling back on her.

The hesitation flickered in his usually unwavering demeanor. Then, with a slow movement, he lifted his flesh hand and cupped her cheek.

“Why?” he rasped, his voice was rough, uncertain.

That made her sob harder, but she didn’t stop mending him. She leaned into his palm, pressing her cheek against the warmth of his hand as she sniffled, trying to regain control of herself.

“S-sorry,” she managed, her voice unsteady.

“You are always sorry,” he countered, in a neutral, almost observational tone.

Something about the way he said it made her pause. It rang a bell. The Soldat never spoke to her before. Not when they dragged him into the med bay, not when she pleaded with him to respond in those stolen moments of quiet, not when she whispered apologies he couldn’t acknowledge.

But this wasn’t Bucky either, not completely. This was a fractured version of him, a Soldat pulled from the depths of his mind, not the same hollow shell she remembered. He was speaking to her, processing things in a way he never had before. How much of him was in there? How much did he understand?

“It seems so,” she conceded, in barely above a whisper, more to herself than to him.

He studied her, tilting his head slightly, the way he used to when something puzzled him. “You should stop before the handlers come in here,” he said, not harshly, but matter-of-factly, as though it was the most natural conclusion.

Her heart clenched. His mind was caught in the past, in a time when her presence at his side had always been followed by pain, by orders, by unseen eyes watching their every move.

She forced a small, steady breath, keeping her hands moving as she knitted his skin back together. “There are no… handlers here,” she said softly, keeping her tone careful, controlled.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. His thumb brushed absently over her cheek, like he was still trying to place her, to make sense of the moment.

She swallowed hard. “Do you know where you are?”

He blinked, and his eyes flickered toward the corners of the room as if searching for cameras, for listening ears. His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, like he was telling her a secret.

“I know I was sent to retrieve you,” he admitted. “You are the one who fixes me. Always do.” A pause. “You shouldn’t be talking to me. I know what happens to you every time you talk."

Her throat closed, and suddenly, it felt impossible to breathe. A sharp twist of nausea coiled in her stomach, memories slamming with brutal force. Her hands trembled slightly where they pressed against his wound. “No one is going to come,” she whispered.

His brow twitched. His head tilted slightly, and his eyes scanned hers, as if searching for something, truth, deception, an explanation that made sense in the fractured landscape of his mind.

“They always do,” he said again, quieter.

She swallowed hard and lifted a trembling hand, resting it lightly against his jaw. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips. “Not this time, radnój,” she murmured.

His breath stilled.

His flesh hand, still cradling her cheek, stiffened slightly before his grip loosened as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold on or let go.

The endearment shocked him. That word had never been meant for him. He had heard it before but never directed it at him. His fingers flexed uncertainly against her cheek. She always had spoken to him before -soothing words in hushed tones, quiet reassurances when no one was listening- but never this.

His brow creased, and his gaze searched hers as though trying to make sense of it. “You don’t-” The words caught on his lips, and he shook his head slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

She exhaled shakily, brushing her thumb over his jaw in soft defiance. “I do.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his features. Soldat did not hesitate. But something about her -about this- was pulling him somewhere he didn’t understand.

“…Why?” he finally rasped, in a quiet, rougher tone.

His eyes searched hers, as a storm of confusion and something else swirled in them. His hand still hovered near her face, as if caught between instinct and reason.

“Did I overstep?” she deflected softly.

His gaze dropped, and the furrow between his brows deepened. “No,” he mumbled after a long pause, almost contemplative. “I just don’t… understand.” His brows drew together further, and his expression was caught somewhere between confusion and something deeper, something close to longing, buried under years of conditioning.

She took a slow breath, before carefully asking, "Is it okay to hug you?"

She and Bucky hugged a lot, usually with him being the one to start the embrace. But this man in front of her was not entirely him, not yet. And she wasn’t sure if Soldat would welcome such physical contact.

He blinked at her, and the hand in his thigh tightened briefly before loosening again. His brow creased in thought, like he was trying to decipher a foreign language. Hugging. That wasn’t something that belonged in his world. Contact had always been a means to an end: restraint, punishment, control. Not this.

She waited, patient and open, making no move to force it. Just offering.

Finally, after a long beat of silence, he gave the smallest nod.

Carefully, she leaned in, moving slowly, telegraphing every motion as she wrapped her arms around him. He tensed at first, but she didn’t pull away. She just held on, warm and calm, resting her cheek lightly in the top of his head.

His breath shuddered out of him, and after another beat of hesitation, his metal arm came up around her. Not crushing, not desperate, just holding her.

It was different from Bucky’s embraces. Bucky clung, seeking comfort he didn’t know how to ask for. But Soldat? This was uncharted ground. He wasn’t seeking, he was discovering. Testing the weight of the contact. Trying to understand why something so simple could feel so foreign.

She squeezed him just a little, in silent reassurance. “See?” she murmured. “Safe.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in silence. She felt his chest rise and fall in measured breaths, as if he was trying to calibrate the sensation of being held. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested against her back, flexing as if testing their own freedom to move.

She exhaled softly, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, so much of it, always there, always braced for the next order. But no command came this time. No mission awaited.

“You can let go if you want,” she whispered, though she made no move to pull away. “But you don’t have to.”

His grip tightened, just barely. A silent answer.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, just enough for his forehead to ghost against her temple. The breath he released was deep and measured, like he was recalibrating himself against her presence.

She closed her eyes. This was Bucky, somewhere underneath, even if his mind was still tangled in old wires. And if she had to be his tether back to himself, she would be.

“I’m here,” she murmured, not expecting a response.

But after a moment, barely audible, he rasped, “…I know.”

She leaned in just a fraction more, tilting her head so their foreheads pressed together, brushing her nose against his. A barely-there touch, light as a whisper. He was so still, caught somewhere between the past and the present, between instinct and something softer. His vibranium hand flexed at her waist. She whispered his name. Not Soldat, not a title, just his name. A soft reminder. His grip on her tightened, slightly curling his fingers into the fabric of her clothes. His breath became uneven and shallow. “I know,” he murmured again, in a rough, almost pained tone. He didn’t let go. And neither did she.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, wide and uncertain. The flickering light overhead cast shadows over his face, deepening the exhaustion etched into his features.

“I need to keep taking care of those wounds, hm?” she murmured softly, gentle as the touch she brushed along his back.

“Later,” he rasped, slightly tightening his grip at her waist.

She sighed softly, ghosting her fingers over his temple, pushing back a stray strand of hair. “I know you’re in pain, just-“

“And you’re drained,” he cut her off, tightening his jaw. His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Always… drained. Always crying. Always good. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

There he was again, stuck in the past, tangled in guilt and old wounds that refused to close.

Her heart clenched, but she didn’t let go. Didn’t move away. Instead, she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb just beneath his eye.

“You deserve kindness,” she said firmly. “You always have.”

He turned his face slightly into her palm, as if hiding from the weight of her words. “…I don’t believe that,” he admitted.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, tightening her fingers against his skin. “Then let me believe it for you.”

Slowly, cautiously, she leaned in.

His breath hitched and his fingers flexed against her back, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t stop her.

She hesitated just before closing the distance, stopping her lips a whisper away from his. A silent offering, not a demand. He could pull back. He could reject it.

But he didn’t.

His grip on her tightened ever so slightly, barely perceptible, but she felt it, the smallest tug, a subconscious need.

So she closed the gap.

The first touch of her lips against his was featherlight, hesitant. The kind of kiss given when neither person was sure if they were allowed to have it. When the past weighed too heavy, when the present was too fragile.

He stiffened at first, as if his body didn’t know what to do with the warmth, real warmth. The softness of her lips against his, the tentative press of her fingers against his cheek, all of it felt foreign, too delicate for someone like him. But then, something in him cracked. His fingers curled against the fabric at her back, then tightening his grip and for a second -just one second- he leaned into it.

Then a sharp inhale. A shudder. His grip twitched, his body went rigid again, and she felt it, felt the exact moment the weight of too much history, too much instinct, too much them came crashing down.

She pulled back immediately, searching his face. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, his breath shallow. His lips parted, as if trying to form words but finding none.

She gently stroke her thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay.”

His throat bobbed, and his fingers ghosted at her waist, barely touching, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. His gaze flicked down, lingering on her lips for the briefest moment before darting back up to her eyes.

Then, barely above a whisper, rough and unsure-

“…Again?”

A request. A plea. A fractured man grasping at something good, something warm, something he never thought he could have.

She smiled softly, before leaning in once more, giving him exactly what he asked for.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @sunshinedayz19 @star-maker-rain-dancer @tumdlrnewb84 @mgchaser @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @gotminho @kaitlin013106 @startorrent @idontknowhowtonormal @mattmurdock42 @hnnhbananananana @aeriss-at-heart45 @jainaeatsstars @airixaram @seventeen-x @jaxz21 @zizzlekwum @hi172826 @valckenaux @moth-maam56 @myllamatimemachine @unaxv @smiithys @cats-chaotic-mind @melsunshine @neuviloved @cjand10 @frombkjar @strvnger3ditz @nikkinss @alexandra-001 @lavanderbreeze @cats-chaotic-mind @sleep-tight1 @lasrehsif @delicatepersondinossaur @bodhisattva11 @isepod @mrsnikstan @impoeticbeauty @beewilko @chinggay85-blog

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

Don't start disconnecting and condemning any piece of media yet. Just take a moment, breathe, wait, and believe all victims

[wizardnuke]

i love the empire kids so so much i feel like i am losing my gfuckinf mind. ohh my god empire kids

[heesimp]

tasty (heeseung)

summary: it’s not your week and it doesn’t seem like the semester will ease up on you as time flies by, but your best friend is here to help in more ways than one.

word count: 5.6K

notes: based off of this request. thank you anon! I probably won’t open a taglist at this time but I’ll let you know if I do when I post other fics. XX

warnings: reader touches herself, porn mentions, vibrator mention, phone sex, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, mentions of heeseung with other girls, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

“You sure you don’t want to go out with us?” 

Your co-workers stare at you while you try to push down any simmer irritation. They’re not to blame, but pestering you to go out to a bar and get drunk when all you want to do is go home, is making you even more irritated. They mean no harm and look at you with sorry eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you tell them. Luckily for you, they nod and accept your decline. “Thanks for the invite though.”

“Well if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” 

In typical twenty-something-year-old fashion, certain days feel longer than most. Today is no exception. It’s hard to navigate the woes of landing on your feet when you’re wrapped up in midterm projects and trying to have a social life without throwing yourself off balance. When the semester started, you were nothing other than a happy-go-lucky, fourth-year university student who was excited to finish college and take the first step towards “real life.” Unfortunately for you, your days would get tough before you’d see it to the finish line. 

The ride back to your apartment isn’t long by any means but the traffic from your job at a convenience store was met with rush hour. The bus took much longer than usual but you always anticipate that when you’re scheduled until 5pm. Everybody’s going home at the same time and even public transportation falls victim to the hustle and bustle of corporate life. 

On your way home, you can’t help but linger on the inconveniences of the recent past. Midterms have snuck up on you like they do every year and no amount of studying into the night could ever prepare you for the stress that comes with obsessing over good grades for five separate classes. It kills you that no two tests weigh the same and preparing for projects feels like you’re signing a death sentence. You’ve barely seen your friends aside from in passing and haven’t had any time to take care of yourself and have fun. 

It feels as though you’ve lost all motivation because school and work has sucked the energy right out of you. Even your best friend, Lee Heeseung, has started to soften up around you because he can tell how stressed you are. If anything, the amount of unread texts from him and your absence in his physical life is a telltale sign that school is kicking your ass, but he knows you always bounce back. You know you will too, but right now it feels like it’ll take too long to get there. 

The first thing you do is take all of your clothes off and settle them in the dirty hamper and take a shower, cleaning off the grime from a long day outside of your bedroom. Your hair is clean and your skin feels silk to the touch when you step out and dry yourself. It takes a great deal of effort to follow through on your skincare routine and tidy up your room so that it doesn’t feel like an overwhelming mess the more you look at it. Today sucked. There’s no doubt about that. 

Eventually, the clock turns into a late hour after you’ve had dinner and a sweet treat to make up for the awfully long and boring day you had. The week drains on you and you’re looking forward to the weekend because that means you don’t have to work. After settling in bed with the television on, you try your best to let your worries escape you and focus on what’s in front of you. 

Whether the show is too boring or you’re too worked up, you don’t know. The TV is long forgotten as you aimlessly scroll through your phone and start pushing your thighs together and clench around absolutely nothing when you log into a Twitter account you don’t post on. It must be out of habit to act like this when you see the familiar username because it’s where you keep your porn stash for when you need to get off. There’s everything you could ever want–short videos, photos, and links to other websites that always gets you off. The long day has made you think about how you need at least a single win in order for this week to not completely suck. Bringing yourself to orgasm might be the way to do it. 

You spread your legs underneath the covers and take a finger to tease up your slit that’s covered by your panties and hold your phone in your free hand, using your thumb to scroll past the plethora of videos that turn you on. It’s all about finding the right one, and seeing big dicks and wet pussies makes you worked up. You start to forget about the week and consider that a good start. 

Moving your finger against your covered pussy always makes you wet. You imagine it’s someone else teasing you the way you like it and pretend you don’t need to move a muscle to get off. Swiping the tips of your fingers back and forth makes you soak through the pathetic fabric anyway, and the excitement of your arousal makes you gush right onto your panties. 

You scroll through them one by one and pull your panties to the side to feel just how wet you’ve become and moan quietly as the feeling of your slicked up walls. Pushing a finger inside, the welcomed sensation is exactly what you needed after a hard week. You add two, then three, and pump them in and out of you with your legs bent towards your chest. It should be an easy orgasm. 

Except, it isn’t. Three of your own fingers isn’t enough.

At this rate, you don’t know how long you’ve been rutting your hips but what you do know is that you can’t seem to get yourself off with just your fingers. Pulling them out makes you wince at the loss and you force yourself off of your bed to find your trusty vibrator that has always served you when you need to get off quickly. You dig for it in the depths of your drawers but, to your dismay, the device is uncharged. You’re far too worked up to wait for it to become usable. You crawl into your bed again and angrily look through your phone at the porn in your bookmarks and try to get yourself back to that state of euphoria when you started touching yourself, but knowing too much is bothering you is preventing you from letting go. 

Your room echoes as you groan in frustration when your eyes land on a photo on your desk. It’s a picture of you and Heeseung that Jay took when the three of you hung out together after you first moved into this apartment. The two of them helped move boxes and furniture, and you rewarded them with a free meal from the noodle shop across the street. Heeseung sits next to you with his thighs pressed against yours because of the small table but neither of you really cared. 

That’s the thing, though. Heeseung isn’t shy about physical touch with you or anyone else. He’s the kind of guy girls feel comfortable around with just a few words spoken and you’ve always envied the way Heeseung can talk his way through anything. People love him, girls want to fuck him, and guys want to be like him. There’s a part of you that wishes you could exude the same aura that your best friend does but, unlike him, you cower at any chance of interaction and can’t seem to get anyone to be interested in you the way you’re interested in them. Heeseung has heard your fair share of love debacles whereas it seems like romance is presented to him with the snap of a finger. 

It isn’t that you haven’t had experiences with sex and dating, but they haven’t been worthwhile. So far, nobody has been memorable enough to keep in your backpocket for days like this, when you need a hot and erotic memory to come in an instant. It feels impossible to find guys who know what they’re doing when a woman is presented in front of them. Guys are so lucky because it takes next to nothing to get them hard and get them off. 

And like, your best friend has had his fair share of hookup stories that leave you wetter than a goddamn fountain. He’s not shy about skimping the details because he’s seen you cry snot since kindergarten and you’ve seen him eat shit on bicycles since elementary school. Sex isn’t off the table. You just don’t have anything to contribute and he doesn’t judge you for it. You aren’t really keen on telling him about all of the bad experiences you’ve had when he talks about how mind blowing sex for him is. Part of you is envious that your best friend has never had one bad day of sex in his life. Allegedly. 

Still, this frustration bubbles up and there’s nothing you can do to quell the way you feel. Perhaps it’s a mix of general life stress and the events leading up to this very moment. The entire day felt like a test to your patience as minor inconveniences piled up on top of one another before your breaking point. You thought your vibrator sitting uncharged was your last straw but it seems like your mind isn’t clear enough to focus on getting off. You recall a few unread text messages from Heeseung and open your shared text thread with him and watch all of the funny TikTok videos and tweets he sends you. You’re missing him right now. 

Heeseung answers after one ring. 

“Back from the dead, I see. What’s up?” 

You huff. “Nothing.” You hear him laughing from the other line. The faint sound of his keyboard clicking echoes in your ears. 

“Can’t be nothing. You always call me when you need to tell me something.” 

“Not true.”

“Y/N, you and I both know you prefer to talk on the phone when you have something important you need to say so neither of us ends up sending long voice memos.” Okay, he’s got you there. “So begs the question: What’s up?”

“Well I called you because I’m bored. Happy?”

Heeseung laughs again. You’re sure he can hear your disdain. “It’s a good thing I know how to deal with your attitude, huh? Since you’re bored, I’ll have you know you’re calling me while I’m playing with the guys.”

“What, no girl to hook up with?” 

“Not tonight, princess.” 

“How sad.” 

“If you must know why, I had a pretty long day at work but I’m fine now. Jake’s ass keeps dying so that’s pretty funny.” You don’t say anything, not right away. Not when you realize you called him in a haste and that you’re naked except for a tank stop and dainty white socks. The realization makes your cheeks heat up as you think about it, even though Heeseung can’t see what you’re wearing. “You good? You’re unusually quiet, especially when you give me attitude.” That makes you roll your eyes.

“You know, it’s unfair that all you have to do to get off is brush your hand against your dick.”

“Where’s this coming from? You don’t really talk about sex. Is everything alright?”

“It’s unfair!” He hears you groan in frustration. You’re somewhat annoyed he’s still typing away on his gaming keyboard.

“Y/N…Are you okay? What’s gotten into you?”

That question alone seems to ease your mind a little as your irritation bubbles over the surface. You couldn’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried. You tell Heeseung everything, good and bad, and he won’t relent until he knows you’re okay. But even this is treading into new territory. It isn’t that you haven’t noticed just how attractive your best friend has gotten since you met him for the first time as kids, but it’s the first time you’ve ever acknowledged it while talking to him. 

“I can’t get myself off.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You don’t hear the sound of his keyboard anymore.

“What?”

“Heeseung…”

“No, say it again.” 

Suddenly, you’re starting to regret calling him to complain about something like this. You feel like you might as well be diving into the depths of your secrets.

“I can’t get myself off.” He hears you whisper it into the phone. 

“Did I hear you correct? You can’t get yourself off?” Heeseung curses under his breath and his hands have stopped typing on his keyboard completely. Frustration pushes tears to the rim of your eyes. 

“I can’t.” Your voice wavers like you’re about to choke a sob. “I just want to cum, Heeseung.”

You don’t see it, but he disconnects his video game connection without consulting his friends. He sits back in his seat and brings the phone off speaker mode and pushes it to his ear. “Y/N…Have you been touching yourself?”

“Yes. I don’t know why but I’m in this mental block and I can’t focus on anything. Nothing is helping.” 

He chokes. “What do you mean?”

“My vibrator is dead and I’ve been using three fingers but it’s not helping!” 

Heeseung sits quietly on the other line. “Are you touching yourself now?” 

“No,” you sigh. “I’ve been at it for an hour and I can’t finish.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You must be so wet.” 

“Not anymore.” You say it through your teeth, too upset that your high has ebbed away.

“You should start touching yourself again.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Touch yourself and make your pussy all wet.” It’s concerning how much you like hearing your best friend talk to you like this. But you do, putting your phone on speaker and putting it on the mattress beneath you with your hand caressing your pussy. You don’t know if it’s you, Heeseung, or the notion that you’re crossing a bridge, but your spine starts to tingle. Your touch is as light as a feather.

“Are you doing it?” 

“Yeah,” you admit. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Really good…”

“How good?” 

“Feels like someone else is touching me,” you tell Heeseung. “If I close my eyes, I can pretend it’s someone else.”

“It’s not enough, is it?” 

“No, Hee. I just…I’m so frustrated.” 

“Yeah, baby?” He’ll address that nickname later. “Why are you frustrated?” 

“School and work are stressing me out and nobody in my group projects lifts a finger. I feel so alone in this.”

“But you aren’t alone. You have me, remember?” You get wetter the more he talks. It feels wrong to be turned on by Heeseung’s voice but you can't help it. He’s talking to you like he hears the way your voice quivers and how badly you need somebody to take away all of your pain, and perhaps you feel comforted because you know Heesueng will do just that and always had. Your fingers rub your wetness around your bare mound the more you think about it, pushing aside any guilt or awkwardness you initially felt.

“When have I ever not been there for you? Never, baby. Including this.” 

“This?” 

He chuckles. “Yeah. Helping you cum.” 

“Hee, don’t say that.” 

“Why? It’s true. Best friends help each other cum.” 

“How are you gonna help me do that?” 

It’s silent on the other line for a long pause and your heart starts to sink when you think you might’ve crossed a line. Is he uncomfortable? Does he want to hang up and forget about this? Will he ever look at you the same way after tonight? 

“Keep touching yourself. I’m coming over.” 

Your eyes widen. “N-Now?” 

“Yes, now. I live five minutes from you. I’ll be over soon.” 

The thought of Heeseung coming over makes you impossibly wet. It’s been so long since you’ve let anybody touch you the way you’d like after failed hook ups that left you unsatisfied. Your bedroom suddenly feels warmer and your arousal keeps your fingers slick the more you rub against your pussy. It makes your toes clench and you’re starting to get excited again. 

“Please hurry, Hee. My fingers are starting to get sore.” 

“I’ll be there in two. Don’t hang up.”

“F-Fuck,” you whimper silently. Heeseung’s phone picks up your moan and you hear him let out a low groan when he turns his engine on. 

“You have the sexiest moans. I wanna hear them while you get yourself off, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You rub your pussy faster. “Yes, Hee. Fuck, I’m so wet. This feels so good.”

“Be a good baby and play with your clit a little for me, hm? Get her all nice and prepped.” 

You do as he says, moving the pads of your fingers in circular motions around your engorged nub when he tells you. Your eyes close shut when that jolt of pleasure makes your body jerk and arch off of the bed and that loud sound emitting from the back of your throat makes Heeseung hum in approval. 

“Juuust like that. Fuck, you sounds even better than I imagined. You’re a vocal one, huh?” 

“Only when it feels really good.”

“Yeah? Do you feel really good?” 

You lick your lips. “It would feel better if you were here.” Heeseung laughs. 

“I’m here and I’ve got your spare key. Keep fucking yourself for me.” 

The call ends there. You hear the door opening and part of you considers using your blanket to cover yourself up because in all of the years you’ve been friends with Heeseung, he has never seen you this indecent. It feels a bit humiliating to know your best friend will find you with your fingers rubbing against yourself while your hips chase that delicious pleasure but ultimately, you can’t find it in yourself to care too deeply about that. 

Heeseung’s footsteps alert you to his presence and you’re pleasantly surprised to see him standing in the threshold of your bedroom after he’s opened your doorknob. His black hair covers his eyes as he catches his breath, and it looks like he ran up the two floors just to get to your apartment quicker than an elevator could take him. He’s hesitant when he walks inside until his eyes lock with yours. Your next moan comes from deep within your chest and Heeseung wastes absolutely no time. 

He lands on his knees and pulls your body towards the edge of the bed. Your scent invades his olfactory senses as he looks down below you, pushing your feeble hand away to admire the mess you’ve made of yourself. It should feel embarrassing to have your best friend look at you like this, but it doesn’t. Your heart beats faster the more Heeseung’s eyes scan your wet pussy and before you know it, his mouth latches onto you. 

The feeling of someone’s tongue shoved deep within you is a feeling you haven’t experienced in a long time. Heeseung kneads your thighs with his hands as he keeps you in place and the pace he sets makes your body feel like it might as well be up in space. 

You hear stories all the time about Heeseung hooking up with other girls whether it be from himself or others. Girls love to pretend to be your friend to get close to him and love to talk about these kinds of things with you because they assume you’re getting in on the action too, only to leave the conversation perplexed when you tell them you and Heeseung have never gotten involved like that. But now, with every bit of information about how he slurps pussy like he needs it to live, you’re starting to wonder why you never asked him to do this before tonight. 

“Tasty,” he mutters after a beat of silence. Your hand comes to grip his hair for stability when he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks on it while rubbing his tongue against your pleasure point. “How come you never told me you taste so good?”

“You never asked.” 

He laughs against your pussy. “Still got some attitude, huh?” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” He looks up at you like he’s weighing a challenge. 

“If you were any other girl, I’d pull out every time you’re about to cum. I’d have you begging for that shit. If you were somebody else, I’d stuff your mouth with my cock until you learn how to obey.” He licks up your pussy once more before adding two of his fingers inside, moaning at your smooth and wet walls as he pumps them inside of you. “But you’re my best friend and you’ve had a hard week. I’m gonna make you cum.” 

If a thousand suns exploding feels like Heeseung’s tongue and fingers working in tandem with each other, then this is a feeling you never want to forget. They work separately but it feels like he’s pushing you closer and closer to the finish line the more he pays attention to your clit and g-spot at the same time, pressing on that little button the more you whine and aimlessly beg for him to let you cum. You can barely register your own voice moaning because the pressure is too much against your ears. Heeseung’s fingers plunge in and out of you at a pace that is somewhere between gentle and brutal, giving you enough force to take your mind off of the stress from the week to focus on your pussy being pleasured. 

You screw your eyes shut when you can feel that coil unraveling. Heeseung seems to notice that too because of the string of moans you let out when he pushes his fingers against your sweet spot. His mouth licks and licks as his hand pushes your wetness right against his tongue and it doesn’t take very long for him to taste your cum. 

Heeseung’s head disappears between your legs and he’s barely able to move his hand because of how tight your thighs are against his ears. He’s always loved your thighs and legs, and loves them even more now that he knows what it feels like when you suffocate him as he licks up your delicious cum. You ease up on him when he pries them away to free his hand from the uncomfortable position and uses both hands to keep your legs apart as he licks up the remnants of your cum and helps you ride out your orgasm until your chest falls against the mattress. 

He wipes the back of his hands before giving your slit a gentle kiss. “You’re so sexy when you cum.”

“I can’t believe I let you do that.” 

“Why?” 

You watch him crawl up your body between your spread legs. “Because…” 

“Because?” 

“You’re my best friend and we’ve seen each other through everything. Don’t you think this is a little, I don’t know, weird?” 

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head and dips below to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Not weird. In fact, I’d argue we should do this more often.”

You frown. “I don’t intend to be somebody you keep on a roster, Lee. You can keep that shit to yourself, but thank you for helping me cum.” Heeseung laughs against your mouth until you feel his lips ghost right over yours. 

“There won’t be other girls involved if we fuck, Y/N. I’m not heartless like that. Everybody else knows I’m in it for sex and nothing else, but it’s like you said. You’re my best friend. I won’t make you feel like you’re just somebody I can hit up.” 

“So this would be like…friends with benefits?” 

“We can work out the semantics later.” He lets his lips touch yours and when you don’t object, Heeseung opens your mouth with his own and you taste the saltiness of your cum on his lips. You clench around nothing when you hear your mouths smacking together in the quiet of your bedroom. 

It feels…good. It doesn’t feel out of place, even though this is the first time you’ve kissed Heeseung. You haven’t thought about it much either, but somehow his lips fit perfectly in yours and his soft hands holding your body in his adds to your arousal. You feel safe with him at this moment and it’s the first time you’ve ever had sex with somebody who hasn’t made you feel like an afterthought. Your mind feels a bit foggy but you know you like this feeling and don’t want him to stop. Still, you have your worries.

“This won’t be weird, will it?” 

“No, baby. In fact, all you had to do was ask me to drop the other girls and I would’ve.” You roll your eyes. 

“Sounds like you’re in love with me, or something.” 

Heeseung pulls away and smiles down at you. “Yeah. Or something.” You ignore the way your heart flutters and realize his bulge is poking your bare pussy. 

“You’re hard.” 

“So you’ve noticed.” 

You pinch his bicep. “You get hard eating pussy?” 

“Well yeah because it’s pussy, but it’s also you.” You start to talk but Heeseung silences you with a kiss. “Are you satisfied now that I’ve made you cum?” 

His vulgar words make you shy underneath his gaze all of a sudden. It’s a new feeling and you’re not quite sure how to navigate it, especially with the way he’s staring down at you with a raised eyebrow. Heeseung is still your best friend who gives you shit for everything. You suppose you’re grateful that he’s not changing who he is just because he knows what you look like naked. 

“You know what? Actually, I don’t think I’m satisfied.” 

Heeseung grins wickedly and pulls his body off of your chest to take his shirt off, his chiseled muscles on display for you to look at. He grabs your hand and places it on his abdomen. “Oh yeah? What else can I do for you, princess?”

You take your fingernails on his skin and feel his abs move beneath you. “I think I need you inside me too.”

“Were my mouth and fingers not enough?” You shake your head. Heeseung tuts as he gets off of the bed to step out of his pants and boxers, revealing a long and thick cock you’ve only ever heard about. It’s dripping with precum and you can’t stop your pussy from clenching or your mouth from drooling. 

You watch him get back on the bed one knee at a time before he’s hovering over you again, pulling your body to the position he wants as your legs spread before him. He looks down at his cock and tugs on it twice before letting his tip rest against your clit. 

“Need some of my cock?” 

“Yes, yes!”

“Who knew my best friend has such a tight pussy. Makes me wonder why I even bothered with other girls in the first place.” You seem to like hearing that. He brings his fingers to push the head of his cock inside of you before sinking halfway in, allowing you to adjust to his size as you squeeze him. “Oh yeah, honey. This pussy’s gonna make me cum hard, I already know that.” 

Heeseung holds your legs open and pushes his hips into you slowly. The drag feels so good with how warm he’s made you and you can feel him throbbing with every pass. You hold onto your breasts for stability, which seems to turn him on even more because he’s pushing your legs towards your chest and pushing into you with all of his might. 

You’re able to see him from where you lie. His eyebrows concentrate as he squeezes his eyes shut and sweat lines his forehead the more he thrusts inside of you. He sits up on his knees to angle his dick inside of you better and moans when you let out a strangled groan. The clench is so tight and amazing, and Heeseung can’t fathom why he’s never fucked you before tonight. 

“Sexy pussy,” he grunts, looking down at your abused hole as he thrusts into it. He brings his thumb to your clit and you yelp when he starts to rub it. “So wet and fuckable.” 

“Fuck me,” you manage to choke. 

And truthfully, you like Heeseung plowing into you at the pace he’s set. He’s not too fast but not too slow and you can feel him hit your cervix every single time. It’s no wonder girls were always lining up to have sex with him. Heeseung knows what he’s doing with his dick and you’re finding that out now. 

“You want me to fuck you?”

You nod pathetically. “Please fuck me.”

“How hard?” You bite your lip and shake your head at the humiliation of begging for him but Heeseung tuts and smacks your clit with his hand. “I said, how hard?”

“So hard that I feel you in my stomach!”

“Atta girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Heeseung slips out of you and pulls you up on your hands and knees, beckoning your back in a deep arch. He plants both of his feet on the mattress and bends until he’s sinking his cock back down inside of your pussy, letting your mixed wetness coat him again. 

He thrusts himself as his mouth hangs open. Heeseung grips your waist with both hands and squeezes you hard to balance himself as he throws his head back at the phenomenal sensation of your walls pulling him in every time he tries to pull out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his balls against you and clutch into your bedsheets.

“Your balls are slapping against my pussy and it feels really good,” you manage to get out without stuttering. Heeseung feels you clench around him again and emphasizes his thrusts until the sound of his balls makes your ears vibrate. 

“Feels good when it hits your clit, doesn’t it?”

“So good, fuck!” 

Heeseung speeds his thrusts and relishes in your string of moans the more his tip nudges your g-spot. “Can you cum, baby? Cum around my cock like I know you want to. You’ve earned it after this week. Cum for me. Won’t you let me feel that?”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, Hee! I’m fucking cumming!”

“Yeahhh. Oh your cum is so good. Doing so well, making your pussy creamy all over me like that. Cum for me.”

And it feels so good that you follow his command. The orgasm Heeseung’s cock brings you feels like a physical manifestation of letting go of your worries and enjoying the present moment. Despite your legs and pussy aching, this feels an awful lot like freedom because your own mind isn’t caged by the inability to get yourself off. 

You don’t think, you can’t think. You’ve reached a point of nirvana that’s made your mind completely blank with the exception of your orgasm and the feeling of your best friend fucking right inside of you. His cock, so hard and warm, somehow feels so perfect lodged inside of you. 

Heeseung cock twitches and you feel it the more he pounds into you. He looks down and moans at the sight of his cock becoming white with your cum with every pointed thrust and doesn’t remember the last time he truly enjoyed himself to the point of being able to forget about everything except the person he’s with. Sex with other girls is incredible but there comes a point where he realizes that they’re using him just as much as he’s using them. But you, his best friend since he can remember, give him some kind of peace that he’s never felt before. This is more than just a quick fuck, even if neither of you address it.

“Your pussy’s gonna make me cum,” he moans through a choked grunt. “You feel so good baby, fuck.” 

Heeseung pulls out of your hole just enough to rest his tip against you. His warm cum floods against your folds and your body jerks at the way he twitches against you, but his hands keep hold of your hips to place you exactly where he wants you. He looks down to watch his cum spill from his slit and paint your pussy like the artwork that it is.

When he’s finished cumming, Heeseung leans back against his knees to spread you apart by gripping your asscheeks. “Would you look at that?” 

“Stop looking…”

He chuckles. “Why, baby? Your pussy’s so pretty with my cum on it.” 

You look back at him. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” He nods at you before pulling away to scour your room until he finds a box of tissues on your nightstand and grabs a few to clean you up to the best of his ability before cleaning himself up too. 

Overcome with a wave of tiredness, your body feels much more relaxed once you’ve slipped underneath the covers as Heeseung throws away the dirty tissues. He turns around when he hears the blankets ruffling and resists the urge to coo at you when you’ve tucked it underneath your chin. 

“Looks like you needed one good fuck to relax, hm?”

You blush. “Shut up.”

“No can do, Y/N.”

“I…”

Heeseung leans down towards you and tilts his head. “You what?”

You avert his gaze. “I liked it when you called me baby.” 

“Yeah?” He pushes some of your hair back as you yawn. “I can do that.” 

“Are you gonna go home?”

“Not if you let me stay the night.” You don't have it in you to talk back to him after all he’s done for you. Instead, you open the covers as Heeseung puts his boxers back on and watch him smile before climbing in next to you. “Come here.” He tucks your body on his chest and you’re too tired to argue with him. 

His heartbeat puts you to sleep.

tagging: @zara2318 @markmato @heechwe @horijiro @ggumjilgeong-yjn @porunarefuu @leov3rse. :)

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[lustlovehart]

[ Monsters List ] - Sensitive info with targets abilities

A/n: Not my usual writing at all! these details are relationship stuff each character has with the reader that isn’t shown in the main story. (Some details are omitted to avoid spoilers). Now that this is done, I’ll be going back to the main story line now ^^. If i’m missing any warnings, please say so.

Pairing: [Monster!Twst x Reader] Featuring, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, Silver, Rollo, & Neige.

Summary: Dear, [Name], Crowley just informed me he did not give the courtesy of listing all the beasts and their abilities into your possession, please allow me to be the one to aid you. Here are bullets of their names and prowesses, as well as species. Please, do stay safe and out of trouble, and remember to eat and sleep well. Love, From, Rollo.

“Did it send?” “I… I’m sorry Sir Rollo, it seems we were unable to reach [Name] in time…” “…What.”

Warnings: Some fuffy and some aren’t, Stalking, Mentions of Nsfw (Vil). Zombies (Ace, Deuce), Biting (Ace, Deuce, and Jamil), Squeezing? (Jamil, Floyd), Hints of possession in each section, Blood Drinking (Epel, Jade, Lilia), They’re all monsters that are evil so… Murder, Kisses (Kalim, Floyd, Malleus), Blood,

Prologue Chapter

Riddle Rosehearts [ Ghost ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic. [ Magic is a mystery in the field, all that is known is it’s abilities monsters have that aren’t typically in their species skillset, as well as being especially powerful to utilize it ]

- He posses the abilities of, phasing, possession, kinesis (many different kinds), invisibility, telepathy, and short moments of time where he can have a physical body. He tends to forget he’s a ghost leading to numerous times where you’ve accidentally injuried yourself and he rushes to your side to give aid, only for his to hand phase through you instead of truly helping. He feels guilty not being able to help you.

There’s a secret part of him that feels less guilty and more angry, about being incapable of touching you all the time. Sometimes, he wishes he was Ace just so he could wrap some part of him around you, but alas, he can only do so in short intervals, which just… isn’t enough.

- Has a habit of just, watching. You’ve caught him at your window at night. He insists coming in without permission is unlawful, to which you tell him looking at you through glass is just plain creepy. You now invite him for tea parties, yet that still doesn’t stop him from longingly gazing through the glass that separates you two. (freak)

- Glows a bright red when he’s either angry or extremely flustered. You walked in one time when the former was happening and were temporarily blinded, in your own temporary home no less…

With the latter… he was helping you figure out a crossword puzzle from a lost book you had found during the night. When he helped you figure it out, he swears your smile was so bright he was blinded. In your case, at least you didn’t need a lantern to see the page anymore.

- He has numerous stitches on his body, his mouth, his neck, and his heart, or at least, where it would’ve been had he still had it. In the short times when he decides to take on a physical form, he enjoys letting your hands trace over the numerous threads through his skin… He won’t admit it, but it’s a comfort.

- When he’s working, his exposition completely changes. You get scared of him, you forget just how determined he is to being the pinnacle of perfection, even as a monster.

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death.

Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade [ Zombies ]

- Infectious Bites. There have been many close calls where the two almost bit you, secretly hoping to turn you into them in their delusions of being with you forever, it never works though cause when they try, you turn and give them a smile that haunts them so bad they can’t bear the thought of you hating them. The idea always rears its ugly head back to them, but then you treat the two like a regular human and, unknowingly, save yourself just a little longer.

- Anatomy Control (Disassembling limbs and still having control). Deuce has a very common occurring tendency, that leads him to lose his limbs on occasion. He can still feel what they feel, but when they separate from him, they tend to have a mind of their own. There have been several times where you’ve been the one to return a limb, typically his hand, and he’s all fidgety cause it just refuses to let go of you.

“I… I promise this doesn’t usually happen…! I have no idea why it won’t let go of you” with how lovingly it was stroking your hand earlier (which you won’t mention to Deuce)… You’re not too sure either… Does it like the feeling of warmth? “Next time this happens, just… Feel free to stab it” he looks dejected, but you accept his offer nonetheless.

- Ace has asked to sleep with you in your bed because his grave is so cold and lonely. You wouldn’t want him dying alone a second time right? That’s too cruel. He was surprised when you accepted, even more so when you said there weren’t rules like “You have to stay on this side of the bed!” or “Don’t touch me!”, he asked you if you had a thing for him, to which you only quirk up your eyebrow at his question.

“Hm…? I’ve slept with someone before, I don’t think it’s that serious.” … What. Who’s this someone?! He doesn’t end up sleeping as he’s left wondering who you’ve been with before him, little does he know this someone was just a reserved monster hunter who was watching over you with a fever.

- They’re the most attached to you, in a physical sense. Considering at least one, or even more, of the limbs on the duo is just bones, along with Deuce missing an eye and Ace missing part of his face, it’s a bit hard for them to go out without giving people a heart attack. So… They break into wherever you’re temporarily staying, which is typically an abandoned house, and accompany you in every location they possibly can. One very worrying thing they do, is stick their limbs in your bag. They won’t admit it but, it’s cause they miss you. You need to tell them sticking Ace’s eye in there to keep watch is NOT okay.

- Survival: Eating Humans

Cater Diamond [ Ghost…? ]

- Phasing, possession, invisibility, telepathy. Though you don’t see him use any of these capabilities very much. You wonder why but never go through with asking him, how could you when he looks so happy to be in your presence? At least, you think he’s happy. You can never tell if it’s genuine or not… His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes like everyone else…

- Whenever he decides to spend his time with you, his face is never close enough in view for you to decipher any real features of his. What color are his eyes? What does his nose look like? Is the diamond you remember on him even there? The basics of a face are in your memory, but you can never remember the more eunique traits of his. You… Don’t know why that is at all. It feels like you’re forgetting something from the first meeting you had with Cater, but your suspicions tell you it had something to do with his face.

- Even though he’s a ghost, it feels like he forgets something about that sometimes… It’s different from Riddle, who simply forgets he no longer has a physical body, it’s like he doesn’t remember he even died in the first place. You’ve seen him all alone, the sunny disposition he proposes to everyone is gone, a hollow feeling in his vicinity. You couldn’t hear it clearly, the only word heard at all being sisters.

- The moment he sees you it’s like he’s scrambling to change his disposition, walking up to you casually as he mentions how cute you look today, ahh you should take him shopping! He’ll be discreet don’t worry—

“Cater, how did you die?”

“Wha—? W-who cares about that, come on just take me to town kay’?” you do end up bringing him as he points at things he’ll never be able to use, commenting on how cute they would be to have and show off, even attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulder before laughing off at his arm phasing through your body and making your spine shiver.

You don’t miss the way his laugh is more forced than usual, and obvious distress at what happened. Why is he so upset he can’t touch you? Is there a reason he wants to so bad? For once, you wanna know.

“Cater, lets go on a date again.”

“I didn’t know you were so up-front…! But, if you’re asking then I just can’t say no can I?”

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death(?)

Trey Clover [ Frankenstein ]

- The sight of a giant, buff, green, adult man, hovering over you like a doting boyfriend as you bake is certainly a domestic sight to behold. Though it becomes less heartwarming when you remember this scientifically resurrected man is 8 feet tall, he can basically reach the top shelf when he’s kneeling.

- Just like the zombies of Heartslaybul, Trey can disassemble his limbs, but he has more control over it than the other two… You’ve had a fair share of moments where you’re trying to eat and a stitched up hand crawls towards you with a piece of cake., it’s sweet, but horrifying in the dark.

- He’s a glorified brick wall, if brick walls could also fight back at insane speeds. You watched him unintentionally scare off another Monster Hunter once, they weren't intimidated by his size at all, even attempting to throw a punch at him to show off. Their try immediately backfired as Trey stood unfazed, watching them run away cradling their hand. Before you can blink, Trey’s already towering over you asking if there was a pastry he should try making for you. Honestly… You need to tell Crowley to hire better employees.

- Trey has electrocuted you once. Totally unintentional on his part, but if someone asked him what he thought when he did it, he would tell them with a soft smile you look cute. Meanwhile, you’re on the other side of the room trying to make sure Trey doesn’t increase the voltage next time he tries holding you. Everytime he attempts to do just that, you’re quick to jump out the way. He’ll smile softly but he can’t deny he’s a little disheartened... Seems he’ll just have to rebuild that trust.

- Despite all the stitches on his body, unlike Riddle, there aren’t open wounds on his body, so he’s technically the only one who can accompany you without drawing too much attention. It’s a secret kept between the two of you, but whenever you head into the square, you both walk to as many bakeries as possible, tasting whatever you can afford. Whenever he put something in his mouth, he’d make an offhand comment about his family. You wonder… How did Trey even resurrect like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Leona Kingscholar [ Beastman Mummy ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His skin is wrapped in so many bandages, all of them he can bend at his will. You’re curious as to what he looks like under the fabric, but one glare and the feeling of binds grappling around your body is enough for you to reconsider. That’s only if you attempt to look underneath, if not, he’ll sit in silence as you admire each carefully placed bind, cracking an eye open to watch you close in on him in curiosity.

- Watching him manipulate sand just to make places to sleep is entertaining, but being dragged into his timeframe of napping is surely not. The grip he has on you is ironclad as the two of you lay on the grainy bed, if you complain about sand getting into your clothes he’ll make a sly suggestion of “Just take off your clothes” before retreating into a slumber that you can’t shake him from. Even if you did decide to do that, how would you even take them off…? He won’t let go of you…!

- Despite being a former corpse, if he was still mortal, he’d essentially be an ultimate being. He’s super strong, fast, he’s quick at recovering, and even if you did cut off a limb of his he’d regrow in just half the time it took to get it off him. To make it worse he’s handsome, has an air of nonchalance, and a prince. You can just imagine the sound of Crewel and Rollo nagging at you for thinking such heinous things about a beast you’re meant to be killing.

- Whenever Leona controls the dead, you hide behind him. Not because you’re scared of his army, but because they remind you of Ace and Deuce, and you’d rather not see versions of themselves not heed danger whatsoever. You were half awake one time when he summoned corpses, your blurry eyes mistaking two of them for Deuce and Ace, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them into you. You only realize it’s not them when Leona grabs your from behind and hoists your body onto his shoulder like a sack.

“Wrong Zombies.” he makes an effort to have you sleep more before you accidentally kill yourself for such a small error.

- That little pain inducement ability he has? It sucks. It’s funny when he uses it to telepathically pinch Ruggie when he’s away. But, being reduced to a puddle of pure hurt and strain is the worst. Just watching Leona use it makes you remember… nevermind. Seeing his victims fall to their knees as he drains them of their life force is depressing, the burden of your defeat rearing its shame when he just knocks back and naps as their bodies turn to sand.

- Even when his tail wraps around your leg in a form of adoration, you can’t help but feel disdain for yourself remembering all those who are now dust on the ground because of him.

- Survival: Feeding off vitality

Ruggie Bucchi [ Werehyena ]

- Please tell Ruggie to stop tracking you with his senses and your stolen possessions, you’ve been scared too many times by him popping up out of nowhere. It’s even more horrifying in the night since his face looks so scary (His happy face looks the same as his hunting face. Don’t tell him though, he’ll rob you of your belongings in pettiness.)

- His eyes are so hypnotizing, both poetically and realistically. You’ve seen him mesmerize loving couples into handing over their belongings in his human form, only to revisit them later in the night to consume the rest of his steal. You asked him once what the point is in getting their stuff in the day only to kill them in the night, and he just smiles before softly placing a piece of bread on your lips.

You never take the bread from his hands, allowing him to feed you himself all the time, feeding you with the same hands stained with a bloody ending to a romance story. Maybe… it’ll get his pension for praying on lovers to soften, the thought of having his own might put his thoughts to bay… Who are you lying to that won’t happen, it’s how he lives, and how he will continue to live.

You know it won’t change when he’s desperately trying to hide the red stains under his nails.

- He’s very keen on being in your vicinity. No reason, you think, but he’s just always there, talking to you like normal. Which is weird, why does it feel so normal? The more you ponder it, maybe he’s more natural in your life cause of how equalized he is. He’s laidback yet cunning at the same time, not too good, but not too heinous (if you ignore his murders.) It’s a nice change of pace from people who see, to be heavily relent on one trait. Even though with a kinder personality feel weird… So, talking to Ruggie is a nice escape—

“Ruggie, did you take my wallet again?”

“How’d you think I paid for that bread? Shihihi— Augh! Ow okay I'm sorry—!” he makes it up to you by giving you his portion of food. You pretend to take it out of pettiness, but late at night when he’s sleep, you wrap it up and leave it on his bedside for when he goes hungry in the night.

When he does wake up, he knows who left the meal by his side, including the extras that lay next to it.

- Survival: Eating anything he can get his hands on

Jack Howl [ Human…? ]

- You always wondered how Jack got so built. Of course, if it’s from training, you would never undermine his efforts. But, his strength is so hardcore you doubt it’s even humanly possible. There had been a speech from Crowley in town you attended with both Jack and Rollo, all three of you booted to the very back. When you commented on how you couldn’t see, Rollo told you “We could always move forward—” But he’s cut off with shock when he watches Jack effortlessly carry you onto his shoulder, keeping you rested there for an hour straight without complaint, even shifting the way he holds you depending on what you wanted at the moment.

“We could’ve just gone up there, Jack… Now put them down…!”

“I don’t mind, They seem comfortable here anyway.” You can’t help but laugh at Rollo's overbearing nature, patting his head as you hold onto Jack.

- Hes never answered you before on when or how he joined the hunting organization, literally. He’s so silent when you ask, but the moment you switch to a different topic he’s chiming in his opinion like he didn’t just give you the silent treatment for 15 minutes. He told you he’d never lie to you, so, you guess he was telling the truth about that statement.

- Whenever Rollo is unavailable to you, Jack essentially works as his “replacement” according to Sam. You wouldn’t call him that though, Jack cares for you the same way Rollo does, but he’s a lot less… Restricted towards you. You can go out at midnight with him as long as you let him walk you back home, You can eat more junk food, and you can even go into the forest with him outside of a job! Rollo is oblivious to it, but there are moments where you might, just a tinsy weensy bit, prefer having Jack watch over you compared to him. You still love Rollo though! (Never say that to him directly, he will dissect what kinda of love it is you’re implying for him.)

- Overall, you can’t wait to see him again when you go to Savanaclaw! You’re curious as to why he hasn’t reached back to you after the 2 months he's been there though…

Azul Ashengrotto [ Slime Kraken ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His true form is huge, being bigger than the size of 5 pirate ships combined. When he shrinks himself though, he’s only 7 feet long and huge, rather than 50 feet long and huge! Less scary right? (it’s not, you’re just trying to delude yourself.)

- It’s more dangerous when considering the substance he’s made out of is multi-purpose, making him invisible, essentially unkillable, and extremely capable in offense. You’ve seen it first hand considering you’ve been on the receiving end of his malice once. If you have to admit it though, it’s a lot scarier watching him use his skills on unknowing sailors. You collect what remains of them, and set them to rest far away from the sea.

- During the night, you’re divided on whether or not he can be considered horrifying, or beautiful. The twins glow, but they're limited to their one-color pallets. Azuls body, channels the light from his surroundings, making him more than one color sometimes. It’s a bit saddening when you notice how insecure he is about the material of his body, even using magic to appear more human-like in his state. If you tell him he’s handsome in his regular slime state, he’ll flush in embarrassment. (If you go a step further and hug him as such a gross substance, goodness, he’s already looking through books at the bottom of the ocean about human courting. Never mind you’re still trying to kill him, he’ll slay your heart if he has to!)

- If he uses Magic, he, can turn himself into a human for a little. He never really had a reason to go on land, he’s powerful in the sea, even ranked as one of the 7 most wanted monsters. But, now that you’re in his life, he wants to follow you and see what it would be like to live with you as a person. He doesn’t call it a date, but he thinks of it as one, even imagines himself telling Jade and Floyd (Little does he know they already beat him to the punch on that one…). You take him by the hand and the urge to stay on land with you becomes even stronger. But, so does the need to have you in the ocean with him.

- His tentacles along with his crazy strength, just make him an even harder foe to fight. Truly… What are you meant to do when you’re sitting down and in his sleep, he just clings onto you with a tentacle, and now you just, can’t leave? Besides he’s asleep, how are they latching onto you so hard… They don't have a mind of their own— You remember seeing an article that wrote about such a phenomenon. Okay, so maybe they do act of their own volition… why do they cling so desperately to you?

- Survival: Eating as much of whatever is available

Jade Leech & Floyd Leech [ Skeleton Sea Serpents ]

- During your stay in their abode, you’d wake up to Floyd squeezing you so hard you swear one of the bones on his tail were gonna puncture you. He’s too strong, horrifically strong to the point you fear getting squeezed more than twice a day could genuinely kill you. If you don’t voice this concern, you might risk your death, but if you do, he’ll restrain himself a bit (he couldn’t bear the thought of killing his shrimpy! You’re too fun to play with, let him kiss those sore places better yeah? Besides, just a little biting doesn’t hurt)

- Their senses are so enhanced, it’s just as scary as their strength. You had sliced your hand once, a medium amount of blood pouring out, and before you could even do anything, Jade had swam up to you and latched onto your wrist, pulling you down, almost tugging you into the water, and began licking the wound clean, his eyes empty and his sharp teeth dragging across your skin. You thought he was miles away…?! How did he know you were bleeding…? When he’s done, he pats your hand and smiles before engaging in a casual conversation about your day, uncharacteristically gentlemanly after such a scary display. If you ask him what that was about, he’ll innocently tilt his head and ask you “whatever are you talking about?”

- Just like Azul, their true forms are giant, not as big as his, but still equally as terrifying, the sharp bones that poke out their body further proving this fact.

- Extremely Fast, You’ve seen this first hand when Floyd jumped out of the water and dragged you through the sea to transport you to a “beach date” in the middle of the ocean, in only 3 minutes…He heard of these dates from Azul, “Said he was gonna take you on one, thought it’d be funny if I took yah instead.” You’re unable to inquire what he means by “Azul trying to take you out”, as he’s brightly smiling when he places a sailor's cap on you. The small sight of blood in his canines is all you need to know about where this hat came from.

- Their teeth are sharp that’s for sure, you watched Jade sink his teeth into unsuspecting marine life. The thought of him doing the same to ships 7 times the size of such animals, makes you worried for future sailors, and… For yourself. He flaunts those ivories at you so much, you’re worried he’s trying to hint at his insatiable hunger. (He’s doesn’t bite like Floyd does, but honestly, you’d prefer if he bit you instead of grazing his teeth on your skin so sensually)

- They like to drag you into the water with them. You’re sure it’s how they have fun, the only exposure to the human world other than you is Azul and artifacts they collect from ships they were responsible for destroying. So of course, they wouldn’t know the first thing of human play, yet… you have the underlying feeling they have a reason for doing such a thing that isn’t just entertainment.

- Survival: Anything they can fit in their mouths (Whether it be marine life or ships. Though, these two have a specific craving for human)

Kalim Al-Asim [ Genie ]

- Extremely strong, every time he hugs you he completely forgets his strength. In the moments where he does realize it, he’s quick to apologize. If you tell him where you hurt, he’ll insist “kissing” it will make it better! It’s what worked on his siblings, so it must work for you! If you don’t tell him… he’ll cry, so it’s better to just tell him.

- Wishmaking. He insists on letting him give you a wish, after all, you did save him from being lonely! (You’re not sure if you could call it “saving” considering you were trying to kill him… and still are… ). You never accept his offer, with the knowledge that everything has a price, (Thank you Azul for such a good lesson learned) which makes him sad, but in your awkward ways of comfort, you tell him the only wish you want, is a hug. He is ecstatic and wraps his arms around you, tight. You’re regretting your wish now. Though, the glare from two pairs of slit eyes tells you you’re not the only one who doesn’t like the wish.

- Too many riches too count… You wake up, gifted in gold and jewels, you’re halfway through the day, more diamonds and rubies, going to sleep… Gold and emeralds. You told Kalim no more. He found a loophole and just replaced the cheaper items with more expensive ones. It’s technically not more so… You make a reminder to dump it all on Rollo, he’ll surely enjoy having money to tend to his garden. (He won’t. You already know he’ll refuse anything from a monster. But, if you bat your eyelashes enough he might accept it.)

“Kalim, I don’t need any more rubies.” You’re sat on his golden throne, the optimistic wish granter between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sits on the floor, a beaming smile making you hesitant on his next words.

“Then I’ll just give you more diamonds!” … Truly, you thought genies could only give out three wishes, why does it feel like this one wants to give you more than that… It’s gotten to the point where you think he wants only you to be the one he grants anything to, going so far as finding a way to bypass the rules. He even gave you his lamp, which you gave back to Jamil upon receiving it.

- You do wonder… Where are the rest of the people Kalims granted desires to? Even more so, the rest of the genies, as far as you’re concerned, Crowley said there was only one left (that he wanted to get his greedy hands on). If you had just searched Kalim and Jamils shared space, surely you would’ve found the corner filled with broken lamps in it.

Survival: Not sure, Either immortal or some secret to survival.

Jamil Viper [ Snake ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Half snake half man, his lithe body is enough to give you pause no matter how many times you see it, even after seeing the leeches who have a similar body. You think the reason might be more cause of his intimidating eyes rather than his actual body however, 2 sharp slits are enough to make anyone rethink their judgment.

- When he sleeps, he unknowingly wraps around you, his human half bunching you in his arms as if he isn’t squeezing your legs. You think it’s just his instincts using use as warmth considering he’s cold-blooded, so you let him (Little do you know he’s perfectly warm enough, his body is just drawn to you for some reason). When he wakes up, he considers poisoning himself from embarrassment.

- Venomus, the long pointed fangs could tell you that much. When he sheds a tooth after meeting you, he doesn’t toss it away like he used to, he finds a piece of string and slides it through the solid, letting you watch him in skepticism as he slithers towards you, gently placing the newly formed necklace in your palm as his forked tongue sticks out. (He also left a little venom trapped inside, in case anyone gets a little too close than wanted.)

- Don’t stare into his eyes to long, or else you’ll find yourself entranced by the slits in his pupils, and completely hypnotized without even his knowledge. It’s like he’s so enchanted by you that he forgets he can do something like that. When he realizes what he’s done, an hour goes by before you come to. You don’t feel any different, but one looks at your wrist adorned with a snake bracelet that wasn’t there before tells you something happened…

You can’t move it from its place, but you honestly don’t want to, it’s pretty. Works perfectly well in Jamil's favor, if you had, you definitely would’ve noticed the two holes punctured into your skin by a familiar set of fangs—

“Jamil, Kalim gave me his lamp again.”

“… Really?” He’s quick to take it off your hands. If only he could wish instead… it would make his life so much easier.

- Survival: Undocumented

Vil Schoenheit [ Incubus ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- You’re human. You’re not immune to charm and flirtation. It’s disappointing that Vil is so good at what he does. You haven’t given into temptation, at least, not yet.

- Shapeshifting, he’s told you before if you have someone in mind you’d ever want to do such things with, he can transform into them if you hope to practice your confession, when you tell him nobody comes to mind, you fail to notice the devious smile that perches on his lips in victory. It seems the only face that will appear in your brain in such moments of vulnerability will be his, and that’s enough for him.

“Though, Since I used to see Neige almost every day maybe his? He has seen me in moments even Rollo hasn’t…”

What?

- Feasting on the vitality of humans is something commonly known for incubi, you’ve asked Vil before if you’re going to die soon from him touching you… You already know he’s an amazing actor so when he answers you, you can’t tell if he’s lying or if it’s the truth, especially when he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips like a prince, perfectly playing off the suspicion in his answer.

- You think it’s unfair he’s so attractive, if he had only half his looks it would at least be easier to not stare at his pretty features— what are you thinking…?! You can already hear the scolding of everyone else telling you how heinous it is to think such thoughts, but once again, you're distracted by the feeling of Vil dipping into the couch next to you, offering a drink as if you two were just ordinary people. To be fair, his whole survival depends on how well he can interact with humans… He only smiles when you take the drink.

- Making Hallucinations is just common practice for Vil, Rook praising him for all the people who gave into his temptations from his feats. You were once sure he had never used it on you, you could never fall for such a puny delusion, but now, your confidence has faded. Things in your memory are blurry, unclear.

Has… Vil has been using it on you…?

- Survival: Corruption of humans through desire, feeding off vitality

Rook Hunt [ Boogeyman ]

- You make an extreme effort to avoid all manners of shadows since you’ve met him. Lurking in the dark is his forte, and it doesn't bode well for you because almost all your work is done in the dark. Even then… your efforts are in vain because you still feel the sensation of eyes burning into you at all times of the day. In these cases, you retreat to Vil in hopes he can rein him in a bit.

- Shapeshifting is a rare and dangerous ability. Unfortunately, Rook of all monsters has it. Even in places with no signs of shadows, it feels like he’s still there. It doesn’t make it any better that he hints towards that being the truth.

“Ah trickster, you looked magnifique in that bathing suit!”

“You were the waiter who kept offering me drinks weren’t you.”

“The way I observe my muse shall not be disclosed!”

- Watching Rook feast on fear isn’t scary, but rather… unsettling…? He places his mouth near his victim as what you can only assume to be their fear twists up into his throat, the horrified human trembling in terror. Such a scary expression quickly disappears when he turns to you with the happiest smile and gushes to the poor human about how wonderful you are, rubbing his cheek to yours like a sappy couple.

“Ah! Trickster…! You are quite sweaty! Shall I dry you off—” you shut him up by throwing the same towel he was about to clean you up with, in his face.

- His skill set is already horrifying, but adding in the basic ability of enhanced strength just makes it worse. You can’t even begin to count how many walls Rook has torn through for you… A simple ow, and what you originally thought to be a brick wall, is now a giant hole with the boogeyman at your call. It’s harder to be nice to him when he’s insistent that you train your capabilities on him. The amount of times Rook has turned a stab into a firm held waltz is just too many.

“Non non, You must hide your hand better trickster.”

“I would do that if you weren't cradling me into a dip right now Rook— Stop dancing with me already!”

- Survival: Fear and Grief

Epel Felimer [ Newbie Vampire ]

- He's asked you before if he could suck you dry. He honestly expected you to say no, but when you reached your arm out and told him to just not turn you, he was sure you must be some sort of blessing in disguise. When he’s done, he begs you not to tell Vil, as the incubus banned him from feeding. You’ll come to regret it at some point though, as now he continuously comes back to you in times of hunger.

- He runs at such fast speeds, it’s incredible to you, you’ve clapped for him a couple times, but, every-time you did… he got distracted and would trip. He wishes the sun would come up and kill him in those moments.

- Compulsion is a dangerous thing, you shouldn’t be shocked, but luckily for you, he… doesn’t seem to know how to use it the way it should be utilized. The moment he does finally master such an ability, you’ll have to find someway to get past that. He did try using it on you once, a simple command asking you to tell him how “manly” he is, somehow, someway, the command turned into something much more… embarrassing. He stands in bewilderment at the way your hands are cupping your face, endlessly praising Epel about how amazing he is, and how you wish to stay with him forever.

Vil and Rook stepped in to save you. He was sat in the corner as a punishment.

- His hunger is, insatiable. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a monster so bloodthirsty. It’s like he has some goal to just, feast on as many people as he can… He mistook you as a stranger he could freely feast on, jumping on you, ready to sink his fangs into your neck. He’s only narrowly stopped when the moon shines on your face and he knows it’s you. If it wasn’t, whoever took your place would not doubt be dead.

- Survival: Blood

Idia Shroud [ Reaper ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- With how moody Idia is, you forget what his occupation is until he shows up at your door with the scythe he uses to escort the dead.

- Reapers aren’t necessarily evil or good, which is why you’re always conflicted about how to feel about Idia. Should you… Make your decisions based off his personality rather than what he is to slay him—? Why is he whispering about how all the other monsters should drop dead— Ah, he thinks they’re cooler than him.

- You essentially work as a discounted vent session as Idia talks about how everyone else is so much worthier than him to be slain by hunters. They all have cool abilities and cool looks, what is he stuck with? An edgy cloak and a tool farmers use to cut hay—

- His rant is cut short at the sound of a cheap board game slamming on the table, his eyes looking up to you placing a game piece on the spot, signaling him to take his turn as you tell him how he’s “the only one you find playing games with fun”. Truly, you must be one of the kindest souls he’s had the fortune of meeting, he should know, half of the spirits he escorts are huge douches.

- It just makes him all the more worried about bringing you to the after life.

- Even though Idia doesn’t have a reason to actively hurt humans, it’s still worrying when he describes to you in detail of his After life Capabilities. He once told you a story about how a guy was acting so high and mighty he trapped him in the space between life and death, only coming back to laugh at him when the man was practically broken. He only stops his retelling when he looks up and sees the most hurt expression on your face.

- After that, he sits up before you can even say anything, leaving immediately as he buries his head in his hands. The next day, he’s at your door as you silently stare at him, his form of retribution for your hurt being whatever you mentioned wanting during the week. You accept his gift, but that still doesn’t stop the fear of what Idia does to the souls he guides with a lack of fondness.

- Survival: Unable to Die. (Speculation)

Malleus Draconia [Dragon Gargoyle… And… something else?]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Heavy durability, as he is pure stone. in times of desperation, you watch as green sparkles fly around the man as stone turns soft. His spell doesn’t last long but in his desire he chooses to pepper you in kisses with smooth lips. The first time he attempted to romantically place a peck on your arm, you cringed at the feeling of rough stone on your skin. It hurt his feelings so he opted to just spell himself instead.

- Heavy. He didn’t wanna move away from a doorway you had to exit through to leave. You tried lifting him out of the way, you don’t think you’ve ever tried so hard to move something before. He thought it was an attempt at a hug, so you ended up being smooshed in his arms for an hour before Lilia saved you.

- Camaflouge, the stone he’s made of, and moss that grows on his body can be manipulated in any way he wishes, even his size, it’s scary watching him go from his regular 6 feet to an astonishing 10. This trait of his has served numerous moments where you’re surveying his castle only to feel arms pulling you back into a stone exterior. Your reflexes are swift to throw a punch, only to have the cruel reminder of rock busting your hand.

“Ah forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you Child of hunters”

“My hand is broken Malleus.”

“We can just get you a new hand can we not?” That night serves as the first of having to tell Malleus he can’t always spell you when you’re injured. To this, he tells you that’s nonsense and he’ll expend all his reserves for you.

- Considering he’s also a Dragon, flight, and fire breathing really shouldn’t surprise you. What does surprise you is when he looked more dragon than gargoyle sometimes, his eyes becoming more lively, scales being more obvious, and his wings and horn being truer than they’ve ever been. You have a sneaking suspicion his instincts change forms too, his already heavy clinginess increasing tenfold. You’re either held by his clawed fingers or wrapped in his wing.

- Despite Malleus being marked as one of the most dangerous kills possible, you find it extremely easy to… ask him to do something. In fits of anger, he’ll cling impossibly close to you, trying desperately to attempt to cease the ugly feeling festering inside him. He’ll tell you he never wants you to leave his side. If you’re not feeling like being trapped inside, all you need to do is wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his ear with a low whisper, asking him to let you go. For a moment, his grip will tighten, but slowly he relents, his stone eyes watching you wave goodbye.

- Though, truthfully, You don’t feel like you’re free… Sometimes, you notice gargoyles in places where there shouldn’t be any. Sooner or later, his resolve might break, asking him for such freedoms might not be as easy.

- Not only that but… There’s definitely a side to him that isn’t just some Dragon Gargoyle. Whenever you have the chance to dig deeper into it, you’re met with a wall that separates you from the truth. Just what is Malleus?

- Survival: ???, Unable to Die. Do not attempt.

Lilia Vanrouge [ ??? ]

- Caution: Possibly capable of Magic.

- Certainly the most mysterious of the bunch… To be fair, everyone in the Diasmonia space is filled with anonymity. He doesn’t have any specific qualities that warrant a decisive conclusion, but you’re confident that he’s not a human. Sometimes he has wings, sometimes fangs, sometimes spider legs, just what is he?! (He has used this capability to scare you on numerous occasions, taking the form of a giant wasp and chasing you once. When he gets bored though, he clings onto you endlessly, not as bad as Malleus but still very often. You woke up to him in your bed once, and now he occasionally appears there to “wake you up” by sliding his arms around your waist. Please tell him you’ll only let him do this if he stops turning into freaky stuff…)

- You have no doubt he’s one of the monsters that eat humans. You took a sniff of his red juice once, it’s definitely blood, and considering why you’re here, it’s for sure not animal blood. Out of guilt for failing whatever human is his current meal, you offered up yourself as a blood bag, and he happily indulged, pining you to the table and nipping that delicious spot on your neck. Out of courtesy for everyone else in the castle... You lock the door.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re quite sure he didn’t honor the agreement anyway, as he’s happily feasting on a mystery meat you know isn’t any creature near this castle.

- He always keeps you on your toes, one of the moments being when he used his flight to carry you all over the sky, laughing at you and your body clinging onto him in fear of dropping to your death. It makes it worse that he doesn’t do it slow, he flies so fast you can hear the wind slicing through the air, your arms only wrapping around his neck trying to get even closer than you already are.

“Lilia…! Lilia! Put us down—! I’m gonna die…!” you can feel his hand pat your head as he tightens his grip on your body.

“Aww…don’t worry, as long as I’m here you won’t fall!” you believe him, but that doesn’t make you feel any safer at all…

- Despite how decrepit the Diasmonia castle is, there are still photos of its rein on the wall. In an attempt to know your targets better, you look at some of them, immediately recognizing Lilia in one of the frames… But, his aura seemed different, more cold, more cruel… He was bloodied, and you’re sure that body he’s holding is what you think it is, but, he doesn't have that usual crazy happy look he has when he catches his next meal.

-Just how did Lilia end up like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Sebek Zigvolt [ Swamp Monster ]

- He says you’re pathetic. (He continues to leave flowers specific from his swamp at your door) You’re not… You’re not very sure what he thinks of you…? He says you’re a coward, yet continues to gift you plants after you offhandedly mentioned how you think they’re pretty. So… What does that mean…?

- Maybe they’re poisonous… Heh… Maybe you can use them on Crowley—

- Your plan of attack is interrupted as a booming voice bursts your ear drums, the source of distress being the green being covered in moss, water, and vines. You follow the trail of plants leading from the swamp to the creature behind you, a bear, wrapped in controlled swamp foliage by the monster of the water. Sebek huffs and chastises you for such carelessness, but the feeling of you scooping his hands into yours and thanking him with a smile makes the words on his tongue go numb. Not for too long though, as he tells you obviously a beast like him can handle such lowly creatures, no wonder you didn’t notice.

- Before you came along, according to Silver, the water he resides in used to be a mess, as he said “Lilia believes it to fit my role of Swamp Monster, so I shall keep it!” so he kept it the way it is and let it out control. But, apparently, after you, it subtly became neater, flowers adorning the ridges of where once was messed moss, his water adorned with petals of your favorite color, the place even smelling like your favorite scent. He tells you it’s just a change of scenery for Malleus, not anyone else, you only smile at him, not replying. Malleus doesn’t have the same favorite scent.

- Like his fondness for nature, his power of water is equally as tantalizing to watch. He didn’t know you were there, but you were watching him train, your eyes becoming more entranced in his movements when you saw him become sidetracked from his patience for a moment. A book was laid in front of him, one that he delved deeper and deeper into with interest. It seems he has a fondness for literature, so after that, you would leave books you had at his residence, watching with amusement at how fascinated he was. Unfortunately, you walked up to him once when he was meant to be training, and in attempt to hide his hobby, he flicked his hands and let the water swallow every page in aqua.

“I have been training this whole time human…!”

“Ah, I got you all those. Now they’re wet…” He acts like he doesn’t care, but he secretly feels bad, so discreetly, he attempts to piece every page lost in the water together before presenting you with a new book.

- Survival: Swamp

Silver [ ??? ]

- Honestly, his abilities are lighthearted when not used to a heavy extent. He can eat dreams of those who sleep, typically, nightmares. There have been rumors spreading of a night creature who creeps into rooms, sucking the ambitions and hopes of its victims… They’re not wrong, if he’s called upon too often he’ll strip the person of all their wants and, dreams. Go a step further, and he might as well suck the life out of a human.

- But… You know he doesn’t mean to… At least you hope not.

- Sometimes your judgment feels misplaced when you watch him go overboard in his hunger, his trance only capable of being broken when you grab him by the shoulder, maybe even point a blade at him in desperation.

- He can travel into dreams. You’ve caught him lurking in your conscious one too many times to count. It’s not like he’s devouring your fantasy, but you can’t help and wonder why he’s almost always there. He doesn’t change what’s happening in it, he doesn’t destroy it so… Why is he there so often?

- it’s ironic, a creature who lives off the manifestation of people’s conscious, sleeps so much. You remember sorting through flowers Sebek had “gifted” you, (You’re not sure if it counts as gifted considering he threw them at you saying “they’re frail, just like a weak human.”) and Silver had sat right next to you, begining a sentence before dropping his head into your lap, a deep slumber commencing on your thighs.

- He wakes up ready to apologize, but the feeling of your hands gently playing with his hair, is enough for him to fall back asleep immediately.

- He’s a lot more welcoming to stay with compared to the rest of the monstrous residents of Diasmonia. If you’re free from Malleus and Lilias's grasp, you’re quick to run over to him. He’s typically sleeping, so, when he’s nodding off you sit down next to him, slowly placing your head on his shoulder as you fall asleep. If you’re to be trapped here for a bit, it wouldn't hurt to have some form of comfort in this run-down place.

As you fall into slumber, you secretly wish to meet Silver in a dream again.

It’s coincidental that he wakes up the moment you place your head on him, it’s a pretty sight to him. He hopes… you’ll stay here, he enjoys your company too much. As soft snores leave you, his hands move on their own, grasping onto your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.

It’s selfish, he was raised to do what he must to survive as a monster by his father. So he knows, what he feels is natural, but there’s a lingering thought he shouldn’t feel this heavy about a human… He doesn’t wanna let you go.

- Survival: Dream Feasting

Neige Leblanche [ Angel ]

- It’s… a bit unnerving how kind he is… You understand he’s a supposed Guardian Angel specially dedicated to your well but goodness, he was not very good at his job.

- He essentially watches you go about your day, occasionally blessing you to see your eyes light up with happiness.

- Despite how much he grooms the feathers on his back, he never lets you get too close to them, folding them back up when you’re near enough to see them more intricately or graze your fingers on them. It never bothered you, truly, he’s so nice to to you you could never be suspicious of him.

- He had to attend to personal matters once when you were eating together, his wings fluttering before he ascended. A pair of feathers had fallen in place of where he once was, One plumage was as white as snow, and the other…

- Was as dark as ebony.

- Survival: Being Good

Rollo Flamme [ Human ]

- He’s always been by your side.

- He would never be one of those wretched filthy beasts. He’s always cared for you when you couldn’t care for yourself.

- Don’t look at him like that. Why… Why is there scorn in your eyes…? He’d never hurt you, never.

- You’re the only sanctuary of purity in his life, he wants to embrace you. He always has, your happiness has always been his.

- He has always wanted to save you from the hellish life mother nature had dealt you.

So please…

- Let him hug the one thing he cares for one more time. And…

Forget the white lie he gave you.

- Survival: You

The day is today. The date you left Rollo without saying even the slightest hint of a farewell. It has been 364 days, without you.

It’s a sorrowing sight for coworkers of his who know how close you are. But, if they had just looked closer, the looming feeling of festering jealousy would no doubt impede their senses.

Rollo knows he can feel it. He will find a way to drag whatever wretched beasts are ruining you with their filth, down to hell.

“Ah! Mr.Flamme, Hello Hello—!” ringed fingers slam mercilessly into the wood of a desk, any harder and he might’ve broken it. “Be careful…! This desk is expensive…!”

“It’s been a year since [Name] left for these jobs… Why aren’t they back?” Rollos on the verge of bursting a vein, the only composure he has left is strung together by the thin thread of hope he has of you coming back, coming back to him.

“Well, My little Birdie is—”

“There is no My, and there is no Birdie, don’t call them that.”

“Possesive much…”

“It’s not posseviness.” Crowley only nods at him, obviously, he doesn’t believe the man, but he’ll pretend if it means moving this conversation along.

“I will answer your question in due time, now would you please… remind yourself why it is you’re here in the first place?”

———

A/n Did I do a shit ton of research about monsters and their abilities for this, a post that was meant to be a shitpost? No, who would do that? (I would). Anyways, I hope this can satisfy Monster!Twst enjoyers while I work on the heartslaybul chapter, I promise I’m working on it to make it the best possible! (Blame the economy for my lack of activity on it)

[dinogoofymutated]

Kissin and shit - Morph, Colossus, Gambit, Quicksilver. Heehee. here they be! I might or might not do more. It really depends bc I'm doing these as a writing exercise more than anything lol. TWS: Alcohol consumption mentioned, lots of overly enthusiastic smooching. Sexual references but no smut.

Morph

    “I love you- I love you so, so much” Morph doesn't have a minute to reply to you as you kiss them senselessly. Every once in a while when you separate to breathe, they try to speak, only for you to interrupt them with more kisses each time. Morph hums in a confused but happy sort of way. You’ve basically thrown yourself onto them, kissing them again and again until they loose their balance and the two of you topple backwards. The moment you realise you’re falling your hands slide behind their head to cushion the fall, and after a wide-eyed moment of shock both of you are laughing.

    You kiss all over their face, eyelids, cheeks, that little bump where their nose would be- and you don’t stop even as they start to fully fall victim to their laughter. God- did you love that sound! You catch their lips in a kiss again, and they hum in appreciation, panting when you finally pull away with a genuine smile on their face.

    “Not sure what I did to deserve that, but can you tell me so I can do it again?”

Colossus

    Piotr is struggling to keep up with your fiery, passionate kisses. He’s just a quiet as he always is, but you can feel his chest heaving against your own. His breath hitches as you drag your teeth across his bottom lip, before moving your kisses down his neck. You’re gentle with your kisses and nips- lavishing him with all of your love. He’s still silent, not a sound leaving his mouth, but you can feel his large hands squeeze around you just slightly. 

    “Piotr? Are you okay?” You ask when you finally pull away. He’s more red than you’ve ever seen him before, flushed from his ears and all the way down his neck. He doesn’t respond to you at first, his blown pupils looking back and fourth from your lips to your eyes a he fights the urge to pull you closer and kiss you until the next morning. 

    “Yes… Yes. More than okay.”

Gambit

    “You’re so drunk.” You giggle, hands buried in Remy’s hair before he pulls you into another drunken kiss. They’re wet, messy, and sloppy kisses, but you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can taste the alcohol on his toungue as it slides against your own, feeling the slight sting of the taste.

    “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Cher. You’re just as drunk as I am.” Remy chuckles, having pulled away for just a split second before you reel him back in again, your skin buzzing with delight from the feeling of his body against yours. His hands drift down to your thighs before he’s hiking one up against his hip.

    So what if you were both a little drunk? To be honest, even if you were sober, you knew that the two of you would still have ended up in the same place you are now- smoochin.

Quicksilver

    “We really need to get going.” You say, and yet you’re still kissing Pietro, holding onto his tie that he hadn’t even been able to put on before the two of you had gotten carried away. He snorts a laugh against your lips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist in a split second, his lips hardly leaving yours the entire time.

    “To what? Father’s stupid gala? We have plenty of time.” Pietro sighs, pressing his forehead against your own, pretty, white lashes resting against his cheekbones with his eyes still closed. “I’ll just zip us over when we’re done.” He says, walking you over to your desk where he sets you down- french kissing you the entire way there. You hardly have time to pull away and breathe to respond to him.

     “Believe me, Speedy, if we don’t get going, we’re going to be here all night.”

[loveriotss]

HAII ur writing is sm fun to read omg,, if ur taking rqs can i ask for bf hc+ txts with iida? tysm <33

HCS + TXTS WITH HIM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⸻ tenya iida

INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, crack, headcannons, social media au

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

: ̗̀➛ click here to read other character versions

such a gentleman!!

but sometimes you ask yourself whether you’re texting  your boyfriend or a robot 😖😖.

he used to end his messages with his name but after a few nags from you, he finally started believing that the receiver of his messages will know it’s him and it’s not necessary for him to sign his name off.

very stiff and straightforward in his texts but he tries his best to ‘match your energy’.

not one to understand any brain rot or internet references, hence becomes a victim to misinformation spread by denki.

fast replier!! 

unless he’s in the shower or talking to a teacher, he’s quick to respond to your texts.

anytime he saves a new number on his phone, he will simply add in that person’s last name.

you however are promoted to being saved as ‘y/n ❤️’.

will always give you the most intricate and long compliments.

very observant to your behaviors and demands.

if you mention anything that you want around him, trust you will have it the very same day (rich ahh).

whenever you are sad/angry at him, he will try his best to be able to talk to you about it face to face since he believes problems like this should be resolved in person rather than on text.

he has two social media accounts.

one is for professional reasons only such as hero interactions or class president duties.

the second one is for his personal use or in other words, being the first to like your posts. he also posts you on his second account only. he firmly believes in keeping his work/study and personal life separate.

NOTE — hi nonnie ty for the compliment!! and im so sorry this took so long 😭😭. but anyways tenya iida my man hes so glorious i love him.

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[hatchetmanofficial]

Hi I just played this game recently but I'm curious about the lore and idk where to find it i see a lot of people mentioning boss stu (I keep reading stfu) and idk who those are do i have to read all the asked questions to get the lore going on or I can find it somewhere else? (Anyway here's a squished alan holding a red flag)

MDHM LORE (no spoilers for the actual game):

This is only going to cover the backstories/extra details and the world of MDHM but does not touch what is going to happen in the game. Some TW for the lore, will contain stuff like substance abuse, suicide, toxic relationships, gore and child abuse.

Alan is the main love interest of the game. He is an assassin who lives in the woods in the town that set in the game, far from society but occasionally visits when he has "important" stuff to do. He is the second youngest of four brothers. Claude, Jules, and James. Alan has a pretty strained relationship with them especially after their mother passed away from suicide. Alan ran away during high school and has no connections to the current culture in the modern world.

Erika is a new college friend/classmate you encounter in your English class. She is the only adopted child of two dads with whom she is currently keeping secrets to not disappoint them. She works as an employee in the local skater rink and volunteers at the rescue cat shelter. Erika is very fashion-forward and is pretty smart when it comes to problem-solving and has a hobby of solving mysteries. She has a six-legged cat named Loki and lives with her roommate Rosie.

Stu is a child friend who harbors feelings for the player. He hasn't been in contact with them since they left for college as he stayed in their old town behind. He has an older sister named Toni who also left for university, his mom, and his dad who had a pretty unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship until he moved out. Stu lives in a frat house on school grounds and is a part of a band called the Critters of Wreckage (CoW). Stu struggles with pornography addiction as well as drinking as he became very isolated after not talking with the player.

Carver is Alan's coworker. I have not revealed much about him, other than he has the most trauma, especially during childhood, out of everyone. He has an estranged past he can't quite remember after being hired as an assassin. He is missing pupils but is still able to see. He has a fascination for experimenting and dissecting his victims, even though he really isn't allowed to. I would love to point out that Carver doesn't call the player "Guinea Pig". That name is for his OWN person of interest who he has yet to find. He still calls the player "Doe-Eyes" simply because Alan calls them that. His real name is Calvin and he is 31 years old.

Stitches is another coworker of Alan and Carver. Not much is known about him. He isn't human although he appears to be. Stitches, is in fact, made up of three different body parts from three different people. His head, the torso, and his legs. Stitches was created by Boss.

Boss is, obviously, the boss of Alan. No, he doesn't have a name as he simply just goes by "Boss". He is older than the town, older than time actually. He doesn't have much of a physical form but used roadsigns as a body for him to use. He communicates through images or texts from the signs.

Buck is Alan's dad. He doesn't know that Ophelia has passed away since their separation and is still in love with her. He hasn't seen Alan either but still wants to connect with his son.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝚄𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚑𝚊 𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 - 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

Ft Aquarium|Enclosure; ft tail, teeth + claws, claiming|mating(heavy mentions of future claiming), knotting, kind of insinuation of Size Kink??, cunnilingus, bit of pervy!Sasuke, breeding, creampie

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Naruto or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 7,648

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes Human/non-human romance/sex, minimal use of Y/n, 3rd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Merman Sasuke Merman Sasuke Merman Sasuke Merman- get ready for some Sasuke fish dick(with a knot 😏),,, HOLY FUCK Y’all it took me over 3 weeks to finish this fucking chapter. Longest chapter thus far and probably the longest chapter in this whole damn book- My brain is fried. Istg I’m gonna be recovering from this one for d a y s.

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

Sasuke swam to the edge of his tank and rested his arms on the edge, resting his chin on his crossed forearms, staring at his caretaker through the open separations of his shelter and the next one over. She always wore simple clothes overtop of her swimsuit which consisted of a skirt and a translucent long-sleeved crop top. She cycled through swimsuits, sometimes wearing one that showed off her midriff. Sometimes one that covered everything up to a high neck. Occasionally she would wear one that dipped deliciously low into her cleavage. Then, on special days she’d even wear a 2 piece.

Today she wore a new one. It was a new two-piece with a simple high hip bikini bottom. It had a tie-back wrap cross-style top with two straps that crisscrossed over her ribs and tied together in the back that showed off the centre underside of her breasts. As she bent down to grab the bucket of food for his neighbors, the Aquatic Water Serpents, he saw how tightly her swimsuit clung to her body.

More specifically, he saw how tightly it clung to her cunt and ass as her skirt lifted up enough it was entirely on display. He bit his lip at the sight and he felt his cock stirring in its sheath. He waited patiently, though. He’s her last stop for the day so he always gets to spend the most time with her.

He could wait. She was on her second to last stop anyhow. She scritched under the serpent’s chin and smiled at the youngling before heading off.

“Be good for Iruka, little one!” She cheerfully called back to all the hatchlings and closed the separation before heading to the one that led to the last Silvertip Shark Mer. The rest of his kind had been either poached or fallen victim to his elder brother who had been sent into a cannibalistic frenzy before he regained his sanity long enough to see what he had done and sacrificed himself to the poachers who stayed circling their cove.

The Search and Rescue facility he was currently residing in, Konoha, had found him as a pup and had taken him in. Apparently, they searched for another of his species, hoping to find a female, but couldn’t find even a sign of them. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest. So long as he could appreciate the beauty of his caretaker day after day, he was certainly happy. Of course, he would love to do more than just look at her, but he could wait. Luckily, though, it seemed he didn’t have to wait much longer from the conversation he’d overheard the night before.

The Research team that was tasked with replenishing extant species, particularly ones that they could not find viable mates, like Sasuke, had seemingly made a discovery.

‘We found something groundbreaking, Ma’am! It means that we can replenish the Silvertip Mers’ Species without needing a female Silvertip.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for, Shizune?! What did you find?’

‘It seems because Mers share nearly 50% of their DNA with humans, they can breed with Humans. Though that means it’s about a 50/50 chance if the offspring comes out as a Human or a Mer, though it seems it would be like any other Parent-to-Child Genetic Trait, one child could come out as Human but the next could be a Mer, it just depends on which DNA prevails.’

‘That’s perfect, Shizune. Now we just need to find a viable candidate. If the Silvertip mating process is anything like our other Shark Mer species, we should present multiple candidates and see if he takes a liking to any of them.’

‘Yes, Ma’am! I’ll start compiling a list right away!’

He smirked at the memory and swam to meet Y/n, his Minnow as he had donned her, at the edge of his tank. She pulled the separation closed for the evening as she entered.

“Good afternoon, Sasuke. How are you feeling today?” Y/n had her wonderful smile as she always did when she greeted him. Sasuke always liked to think that it was different from the smiles she would give to the other Mers she took care of.

“Spectacular now that you’re here,” He smirked up at her as she giggled at his flirting.

“Well, I am very happy to see you, too. I’m always glad that you’re my last stop of the day.” She smiled kindly at him and as much as he didn’t want to fully admit it, it made his heart skip a beat.

“Well, have you heard the news?” He had to stop himself from jumping on her that very moment as he spoke.

“Oh? What news, pray tell?”

“Seems they found a way to repopulate my species even though they couldn’t find a female.” A huge grin split across her face at the news and set the bucket of feed down beside her.

“Sasuke! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!!” She called, leaning down and hugging him around his shoulders.

“Believe me, not as happy as I am…” He smirked as he slid his hands around her frame to return the hug, though he made sure to place his hands down low enough to finger at the edges of her bikini bottom’s leg seams. She pulled back from the hug but his arms only shifted to stay resting around her hips. His fingers still lightly toyed with the seams and he was only spurred on by how she didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how are they gonna do it? Artificial Womb? Another species of Shark that’s compatible?” She questioned happily, innocently.

“They figured out that I can mate with and breed a human. So they’re finding me a suitable mate. It’s still a 50/50 chance, like most other kinds of genes, if it’ll be a Mer or a Human. At least that’s what they think. They don’t exactly have a bunch of research to go off of to see whose genes might be stronger. Yet, at least.” He chuckled at his implications that made her blush. “I imagine they’ll have plenty of research by the end of this, though, since as of right now, it’s my job to repopulate my whole species.” Even with his hope and excitement to finally have the opportunity to breed and possibly even claim the caretaker that he’d been watching and yearning for since day one, he let out a rueful chuckle at the reason he even had this responsibility in the first place.

The— rather oblivious— subject of his affections sent him a small, sad smile to soothe him and immediately her kindness brought him back. It reminded him why he liked her in the first place— other than her magnificent body that was practically on display for him day after day in her little swimsuits. He returned a cocky smile and leaned closer to her, his form leaned in enough that she was forced to open her legs to let him settle between them. She still didn’t seem to see anything off about the position even when Sasuke took a deep breath through his nose. He could smell her cunt so close to him and he felt the supple skin of her ass where his fingers dipped under her swimsuit.

He decided to be bold and flexed his fingers to gently knead at the flesh, wiggling his fingers deeper into her suit. Subconsciously, she moved her thighs to try and close around him, just a bit, but it was enough to spur him on.

“I have an idea of a good mate candidate, though. In fact, I’d rather like it to be her. Even if she’s not on the list, I might even request her.” He spoke with a sultry tone, lids hanging low as he let his gaze slide over her form, taking in the swell of her tits in the tight-fitting swim top, up her neck, lingering on the empty canvas of her shoulders and neck, lingering for only a moment on her lips, before meeting her eyes once again.

He was instantly taken aback by the look in her eyes. She tried to hide it but her eyes had always been unwittingly expressive. Especially to Sasuke, he could tell how she was feeling with but a glance even as she did her best to disguise it with a contrasting expression. Even with the happy smile she had on, her eyes shone with a quiet disappointment. Just moments before, before he let his gaze wander over her body, she was truly happy for him and the situation. Happy that he could rebuild his species and bring it back from the brink of extinction.

“What’s wrong, Minnow?” He asked gently, delicately rubbing his thumb over the space where her hips met her ass.

“What? Nothing! Don’t worry!” She tried to smile reassuringly but her eyes still gave her away.

“Minnow, don’t lie to me. You know that I know when you don’t tell me the truth.” His voice turned just the slightest bit stern, just to encourage her to tell the truth. And it worked, her fake smile dropped and she bit her lip nervously with a defeated sigh, averting her gaze to the edge of his tank that still had tooth-shaped dents from when he first arrived as a scared pup, nervous around humans.

“I… I dunno.. I guess I’m kinda.. I dunno, something about you liking someone…” She trailed off and muttered something under her breath that even he couldn’t catch with his impeccable hearing.

“What was that?” He leaned in, head slightly turned to bring his frilled ear closer to her.

“Someone… Someone else…” She muttered again, this time just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“That I like someone else? What do you mean, Minnow?” He had immediately put it together and figured out what she meant. Elation filled his entire being at the revelation that she liked him, too. But he absolutely could not pass up a chance to tease her. It was immediately rewarding when her face flushed with heat and her facial muscles tensed in a way that indicated just how embarrassed she was.

“I-I.. Well.. I mean… It’s just that… Uhm…” She stuttered out, not able to get a single coherent sentence out. If he hadn’t absolutely loved teasing her and flustering her beyond belief, Sasuke would have been pained by the awkward sight. Taking mercy on her when it started to seem like she’d rather be anywhere but there, he put a stop to her sputtering by pushing forward and silencing her with his lips on hers.

She was stunned and frozen, eyes wide and calculating. He pulled back and looked at her with an amused smirk, a brow quirked as if silently asking ‘Do you get it now?’ She remained frozen for a moment, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“I-I… What? But… what about who you li-?” He cut her off with a flick to the forehead and a scoff whilst she yelped at the sudden feeling.

“Dummy. I was talking about you.” Sasuke said with an eye roll, still quite amused at her oblivion. Her eyes widened with the revelation and lit up with joy. Before he could tease her again, she launched forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him into a deep kiss as she was too stunned to return the first one. With the sudden movement, Sasuke was forced to pull his hands away from her ass to stabilize them before she fell into his tank with the force that she shot forward. He wrapped a strong arm around her middle and grabbed onto the edge of the platform to hold them in place.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and hummed against her lips as he hoisted her back onto the edge where she was sat. Eventually, she had to pull away for air but kept her arms around him and their foreheads nearly rested against each other.

“So… What do you say, Minnow?” He asked with a husky purr in his voice. Her eyes were glued to his lips, a haze around her mind after a kiss like that.

“Wha..?” He smirked teasingly at her and lifted his hand from around her to lightly grip her chin. Forcing her to look at him, she finally seemed to return to the moment, though she still looked vaguely confused.

“About the scientists’ little discovery?” He reminded her, his Minnow’s eyes lit up with recognition before her cheeks flushed with searing heat.

“I- uhm.. I really.. really like the sound of it…” Her blush somehow increased as her voice trailed off, though he heard her just fine. His sharp teeth peak out when he grins wolfishly at her.

“Well, then. Since I’ve already decided who I want my partner to be, might as well get started, right?” His words were husky with veiled excitement and sent a shiver down her spine, but she still managed to nod bashfully. She quickly glanced back at the separation to make sure it was closed before she carefully scooted towards the edge, making sure that she wouldn’t fall in. Willingly and consciously, she opened her legs even more, a clear invitation. Happy with her compliance, he hoisted himself up and slotted where his fleshy upper half met his scaly tail against her hips with his face just an inch or two above hers.

Without wasting a second, he dipped down to capture her lips again as he ground his genital slit against her awaiting, though clothed, sex. Shifting his weight onto one hand, he moved his other to the hem of her swimsuit bottoms just next to her wet pussy. His clawed fingers teased at the edge, never quite dipping in. He positioned his hand to fan his four fingers over the top of the inside of her thigh, his thumb at the hem. The tip of his finger, careful of his claw, lightly traced the sensitive skin just under it, teasing her even more. She whined into his mouth and just as he began the motion to give in and slide his thumb under the fabric and reach her weeping little cunt, the separation loudly slid open, announcing the arrival of someone else.

The two pulled apart in a panic, though the damage was already done. Whoever had walked in had caught them, though even if they hadn’t, the flushed faces and the way her thighs clamped together like a steel trap would have given them away.

“Well!” Tsunade declared with a single loud clap of her hands. “That makes things easier!” She approached the edge of the pool, pointedly ignoring that she had almost caught the two in the middle of his fingers buried in her cunt had she walked in even a minute later. “Sasuke, I have news for you. We found a way that you can-” She began, about to go on a long-winded speech about their discovery.

“Save my species. Yea. You and your assistant aren’t exactly the most quiet, y’know.” Sasuke cut her off and grumbled, clearly less than pleased that he had been interrupted. Tsunade looked surprised for only a moment before her mind caught up with the events. Sasuke knew about the discovery— that he could breed a human— and he had clearly chosen his future mate and he was ready to get started with the whole process. Perfect.

“Well! In that case, it would be in the best interest of the Research Team to watch you in the act, to help with future cases like this one, and to learn more about your species.” She explained, not leaving room for debate. Great. First, they got interrupted, now they have to wait for those Science Nerds to show up, and they’ll have an audience. Well, That last one Sasuke didn’t mind as much. He could show off that his little Minnow was his. They could watch as he bred her good and full, stuffing her with his cum and plugging her up with his knot to make sure that it took. To make sure that she’d be full with his offspring.

To his— and his Minnow’s— pleasure, it didn’t take too long for the rest of the Research Team to show up. At first, it made her flustered and shy but she was quickly distracted when Sasuke pulled himself back up between her thighs, level with her face.

“Don’t worry about them, ‘kay? Just focus on me. Focus on how I’m gonna breed you full…” His husky voice growled, nosing at the underside of her jaw. He nipped lightly at the skin there and reveled in the tremor it sent through her, even moreso the sweet gasped little moan she rewarded him with.

She nodded and turned her head towards him to recapture his lips. With a pleased rumble, he intertwined their tongues and nipped at her bottom lip with his sharp teeth. His Minnow hummed into the kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips. Gladly, he began grinding against her and appreciated the slickness that was dampening her swimsuit bottoms and soaking through onto his genital slit. They felt the eyes of the Research Team but chose to focus on each other instead. At least, she did. Sasuke kept an acute awareness of them watching them, watching him take what he wanted, what he had been wanting for months.

He reveled in her little moans that he captured with his lips, muffling her even more with his tongue invading further into her mouth. He shifted his weight onto one arm again and quickly moved back to the position he had been in when Tsunade walked in. His fingers toyed at the edge of her swimsuit then switched directions to rub his fingertips over the growing wet spot on the fabric, coating his fingers and claws in her slickness. He hummed against her neck and nibbled the skin to leave a mark on her skin. Gods, he wanted to mark her so badly. Wanted to claim her and make her his forever after but he supposed that would have to wait until after he bred her full.

That was a very efficient claim in its own right. Her moans flowed freely into the air as she tossed her head back and gave him more space to mark up and lave over with his long, rough tongue. He couldn’t wait anymore, he decided, and shifted his hand to the edge of her bottoms again, deftly wiggling under the seam and reaching her bare cunt. She let out a squeak at the sudden, though very much not unwelcome, intrusion, his fingers directly stimulating the sensitive skin.

“Sa-Sasuke…” She whimpered, suddenly aware of how empty she felt, her wet hole spasming around nothing.

“My good little Minnow…” He hummed and pressed kisses down the column of her throat until he reached the top of her translucent coverup. He quietly growled at the layer of separation and reluctantly pulled his hand away from her dripping cunt to rip through the thin material with his claws, eliciting a gasp from his girl. He didn’t pay attention to the little pout she sent him, though he did silently appreciate it, making a mental note to make her do it again.

Quickly enough, he hesitated for only a moment about tearing her bathing suit since it made her tits look so pretty. He compromised with himself to tug at the crisscross straps showing off her cleavage first, watching the way it shifted her breasts and made them jiggle when he released it. He tugged the fabric down over her tit slightly and shifted his hold to cup her breast and manually pull it out the rest of the way, seeing the way her nipple stiffened in the cold air. Only then, after appreciating the sight and locking it in place in his memory, did he hook his clawed finger into the strap once again and snapped it easily enough, letting it unravel until it hung loosely around her neck, the bottom half falling to the ground behind her back with her coverup top.

“Sasuke!” She yelped, “I could have just untied it you know!” She huffed, making him chuckle at her.

“But where’s the fun in that, Minnow?” He teased, cutting off any more complaints by dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling his long tongue around the hardened bud.

“Should we prompt him to get to the actual mating? Or-” A member of the Research Team spoke up, sounding flustered at just watching the foreplay.

“No. Let it happen naturally, we would only rush the process if it was detrimental to getting it done as quickly as possible. That would be more likely with a female specimen since most species’ females have only a short fertile period. Males are usually constantly fertile unless they lose potency with old age, but with Sasuke, we clearly don’t have to worry about that. Leave him be.” Shizune reprimanded him, cutting him off sharply and trying to keep her voice down to prevent disturbing Sasuke.

He appreciated the thought but couldn’t resist the eye roll at their discussion, talking like he wasn’t even actually there. He must have accidentally released an unconscious growl because his sweet little Minnow reached her arms up to hold him, tangling her fingers into his hair, encouraging him to switch his attention fully on her again. He sent a grateful look up to her and pressed a soft kiss to her breast before he lowered himself further into the water, moving his hands to hold both of her thighs.

At first, she was confused until he pushed her skirt further up to her hips and tugged at the waistband of her suit bottoms, generously offering her to not rip them to shreds. She let out a breathy chuckle and leaned back on her hands to lift her hips for him. Before he pulled them off, he pressed a kiss to her clothed core, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine. She whimpered when he pulled away, taking her bottoms with her, exposing her dripping cunt to the cold evening air.

He smirked at her reaction and didn’t give her time to readjust before he dove in and shoved his face between her thighs. He lapped at her cunt hungrily and sucked headily on her clit. Immediately, the sensations had her squirming and whining, her hands buried in his hair, unsure if she wanted to push him closer or tug him away from the immense pleasure almost immediately overwhelming her senses. Sasuke hummed appreciatively at the taste of his little Minnow. She really lived up to her name with the way he was devouring her. The slurping sounds resounded all around the shelter around his pool and filled the ears of his good little Minnow, Tsunade, Shizune, and the rest of the Research Team. Most of them shifted in their seats, unsure if they were aroused or envious. A mix of both, they decided.

Letting up on the suction on her clit, he dipped his head down to wiggle his tongue into her, squirming against all the sensitive spots in her cunt. He replaced the stimulation on her clit with his thumb, pressing on it and rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensations overwhelming her cunt before she could even adjust to the temperature had cries of pleasure soaring out of her throat into the air. When his tongue shifted in just the right way, in just the right spots and his thumb teasing her clit with just the right pressure, she couldn’t hold back the scream of ecstasy or the sharp tug of his long hair as she creamed around his tongue, her juices flowing into his mouth as he kept up his movements. He moaned against her and happily swallowed her liquid pleasure.

He kept lapping at her cunt until she was practically sobbing and pulling at his hair to escape the overstimulation. Granting her mercy, he finally pulled away and pressed an apologetic kiss to her inner thigh, though she could tell he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. She panted to regain her breath from the way her powerful orgasm pulled the air from her lungs. In a soothing motion, Sasuke gently pulled himself up and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, stroking over her thigh until she could breathe regularly again. Then, with a deep kiss full of tongue and teeth and passion, he slotted his hips against hers with his member free.

The slick appendage wiggled in the cool evening air in search of warmth to bury itself in. She hummed into his mouth when the narrowed tip stroked over her glistening pussy lips. She was still sensitive from the orgasm he’d wrenched from her but the want to be filled up overpowered the overwhelm of it. Sasuke smirked against her lips and separated their kiss with a trail down to her jaw, then to her neck, then to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The empty plot of skin was so tantalizing and his teeth ached with the want- the need to sink his teeth into her and fully claim her. Mark her as his.

That’ll have to wait, he reminded himself. Now’s not the time to focus on that. Now is the time to breed her greedy little pussy. Fill her up with pups and keep on filling her up, over and over again. She’s a good little girl, so eager for being knotted and bred. She’ll be an even better little mate, he encouraged himself in his mind to wait just a little longer. Just a bit longer and she’d be his good little mate. First, he had to thoroughly breed her tight little cunt. With that thought in mind, he pushed forward, pressing his length closer to her entrance. His long, slimy tongue laved over her skin as he nibbled and sucked on the skin to leave little marks that would satisfy his urge to claim her for now.

“Fu-u-uck, Sasuke..!” She called, circling her hips to try and coax his cock into her. When it didn’t work at first, she wrapped her legs around his form and pulled him closer, her one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other working with his to hold them steadily on the edge to not fall in. His other hand still kneaded at her thigh and precisely dug his thumb into the flesh to coax it more open to her pretty little pussy.

“Don’t worry, Minnow, I’ve got you.” He muttered against her flesh before he pulled back to rest his forehead against her shoulder to look down at where they would soon be connected. Looking past her tantalizing tits, he watched as his member squirmed against her, sliding through her folds in search of her greedy hole. Finally, it caught on the edge of the convulsing muscles and immediately began slithering in. The Research Team all jolted to lean forward when she sharply inhaled a gasp. The guy from before seemed the most interested. He was leaned forward the most and his gaze was heavy. The way he stared so intently made a fire burn in Sasuke. It was a mix of jealousy and pride, though it was more cockiness than pride, really.

It infuriated him that someone would look that intently at his mate, especially when she was so vulnerable. So exposed. His instincts yelled at him to cover her whole body with his own, even pull her into the water away from prying eyes but logic, thankfully, won out knowing that it would be dangerous as his little Minnow, despite her nickname couldn’t breathe underwater. Yet, he reminded himself, once she was good and full with his pups and claimed, her body would undergo changes to properly care for the pups for the chances that it was a mer. The cockiness reinforced his reasoning, as well. The cockiness that cried out in pride that she was his mate. That the bastard could look all he wanted but his good little Minnow was his to touch. His to hold. His to pleasure and enjoy.

Nonetheless, the mer lowly growled from where his head rested on his little mate’s shoulder, side-eyeing a glare at the man with a cocky smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth. The hand around his shoulders slid up to his hair and gently carded through it, soothing him back to the moment where he was about to fuck her senseless. Almost immediately, a low rumbling emanated from his chest, it was almost like a purr. With a shocked giggle bubbling from his Minnow’s throat, Sasuke quickly diverted her thoughts to her throbbing core once again when he quickly canted his hips into hers.

The gasp she let out was rewarding and had him rumbling deeply in satisfaction. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there for a moment to let her adjust. He knew he was larger than most human males— a fact that filled him with pride— and that his phallus was greatly different from them, shape, texture, and mobility-wise. His cock squirmed inside her, satisfied with the heat, and moved in search of her pleasure spots. His instincts led him to wanting to pleasure his partner just as much, if not more, than the pleasure he received. His instincts knew that if his partner orgasmed it heightened the chances of his seed taking. As if he needed any help. His species’ seed was very potent and his thick, firm knot would keep his mate plugged up to ensure that none of his seed leaked and lessened the chances of impregnation, even if only by a fraction. With the stream of sharp, almost surprised moans and gasps coming from his mate, he could tell his phallus was doing its job.

“F-fuck- Sasuke- Sasuke, please~!” She whined, burying her hand firmly in his locks, though not tugging. Her incoherent plea was enough for him to comply and rest enough weight on the hand planted on the firm round behind her to easily use his other hand, wrapped around her hip with a tight grip, to move his hips back. The water rippled behind him and splashed quickly up against the corner wall of his pool and hitting the backs of her thighs and the top of his tail as he snapped his hips forward again. He did this a few more times, slowly pulling out until only his wriggling tip stayed inside her wet heat and thrusting his hips forward quickly and powerfully. He tried to keep up the teasing pace but he couldn’t take it anymore.

He needed to breed her. Breed her tight little pussy. Fill her up with cum and make her belly swell with his young. With surprising speed, he set a bruising pace and filled her clenching walls with his wriggling cock over and over again. He could hear the Research Team mumbling amongst themselves, comparing notes or some shit that he couldn’t bring himself to care about but the noise itself was enough to ignite his possessiveness. The hand planted on the ground clenched and scratched at the cement. His sharp claws dug into the hard surface and scraped deep lines into it, taking the rubble with it. His other hand gripped tighter and ended up ripping her skirt where it rested around her hips. He paid little mind to it— as did his good girl— and simply kept up with his pace, though he vaguely recognized that the material was essentially unsalvageable with tearing it so much whilst it was bunched up the way it was. With a growl and a fire lit in his eyes, he smashed his lips against his Minnow’s and claimed her mouth all over again. His tongue delved deep enough to almost choke her. She didn’t gag but her throat lightly convulsed against the foreign feeling before he pulled the appendage back. He only wanted it to be pleasurable for her. No discomfort.

His hips kept up the heavy pace as he buried himself to the hilt again and again. Pulling back from her lips, a thick strand of saliva kept them connected before he leaned back in and licked it away from her kiss-swollen bottom lip. As if on pure instinct, he immediately shifted to her neck and left bites and hickeys on the side he hadn’t yet marked up. All the while, he never relented on his pace, water splashing around him and creating small waves into the rest of the vast water at his back. His member continued to squirm inside her, aiming for each and every one of her pleasure spots and slipping easily into all the nooks and crannies of her inner velvety walls.

Her voice trembled as she cried out in pleasure and shifted her hips to meet his thrusts, subsequently forcing his cock deeper inside her. The pointed tip was forced all the way to her cervix. The wriggling pointed head met her cervix directly, immediately beginning a venture to enter the deepest part of her. Sasuke and Y/n both let out groans of pleasure at the feeling, hers more a surprised noise quickly transformed into a drawn-out whine of bliss while his was one of pure ecstasy at the feeling of claiming his Minnow so deeply. So deep inside her that no one would ever be able to claim her as he had. Not that anyone else would ever get the opportunity to try. No, she was his mate. And he would ensure that her body knew that by thoroughly breeding her over and over again. She would not be without pup for long, breeding her to her heart’s content.

Without much reprieve, Sasuke returned to his brutal pace, jackhammering his hips into hers as he buried his face in her neck. His claws dug heavily into the pavement, cracking it even more with his strength and his other hand kept a bruising grip on her hip, not that she minded the marks it would leave behind. His marks. Her walls fluttered around his cock as he mercilessly pounded into her. Her moans echoed around the walls and went higher in pitch when the cord in her belly was pulled taut again.

“Sasuke- Fuck- Please!” She whined and bucked her hips. The Research Team, from their positions leaning forward to see the pair better, could see his muscles contracting and his hands gripped tighter— though he remained aware and careful with his hold on her flesh. They could tell he was rapidly approaching his climax and they were all on the edge of their seats— literally and figuratively— to see it. His thrusts slowly became sloppier and his grunts and growls became more frequent, his nips at her neck did, too.

What the scientists couldn’t see and his little Minnow hadn’t noticed was the swelling bulge at the base of his wriggling cock. It was stiffer than the rest of his member and steadily grew in size and mass. As his thrusts gained more reckless force and speed it began to catch on the edge of her hole. That made her notice. When she felt the bulging knot catch on her hole a louder moan ripped from her throat. The wide eyes of the Research Team snapped to her and watched her come undone. Her back arched, her toes curled, her nails dug into his shoulder and scratched angsty red lines into the skin, her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she gushed around his member. The convulsing and contracting of her walls around him had Sasuke closer to his own end.

His knot swelled to full size and with a final rough thrust, it pressed hard against her gushing little cunt before it popped inside her. Another wave of ecstasy rushed through her and sent her into another wave of orgasm before her last one even finished. A loud, high-pitched cry escaped into the room and practically vibrated the walls. Her orgasm’s ecstasy lasted for what felt like forever as his white hot seed shot into her. His narrow tip had wiggled past her cervix and sent his cum directly into her womb. His potent seed filled her up and filled her lower belly with delicious warmth that kept her in a state of blissed-out pleasure. She shivered in her fucked out haze as Sasuke filled her up with spurt after spurt of spunk.

“You did so good, Minnow. My good girl, took my cum so fuckin’ well. Gonna be such a good momma.” He purred in her ear, licking the spot just under it.

“Is it done? Did he do it?” The guy spoke lowly to the rest of the Research Team and Y/n and Sasuke barely resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say yes.” Tsunade said sarcastically. Sasuke licked at the bites and dark hickeys on his Minnow’s neck and shoulder to soothe any aches and to help the deeper ones heal faster. His member pulsated inside her as he recovered from his powerful orgasm. He had touched himself before to the thought of her but he never could have anticipated just how good she felt around him. He felt like he was in Heaven with her so tightly wrapped around him. Her heat clenching around his cock so snugly.

In the afterglow of their orgasms, Sasuke felt his arm getting tired from holding himself up and his tail aching from exhaustion from thrusting inside his little mate while keeping himself from falling back into the pool. Carefully, he maneuvered her in his hold to gently pull her into the water with him, though making sure they didn’t go under. Her grip on him tightened and her other arm shot to wrap around his shoulders making him chuckle. The deep sound sent a shiver down her spine and a blush to her cheeks as well as a vibration through her body from where their chests were pressed together. As an afterthought, Sasuke quickly discarded the ruined fabric of her skirt to the edge of the tank before he continued on with his movements with her.

“Don’t worry, Minnow.” He cooed to her as he moved to float on the water with her on his chest, slightly swishing his tail to keep them afloat. “I won’t let you fall in. Promise.” He nosed at her temple and pressed a kiss there.

“How do you feel?” Tsunade asked, addressing his little Mate.

“Full. Warm.” She spoke dazedly, snuggling into his chest comfortably.

“Good. From the looks of it, you should be pregnant in no time. We’ll monitor your progress and stats to make sure everything is all good and we’ll set up on-site lodgings for you. Let us know as soon as you find out when you’re pregnant. Since we observed this time, we technically don’t have to observe more of the breeding and mating but if it didn’t take this time, I’d like to observe your next session just to see if there are any differences, if that's okay with you. And, I’d like to ask, is there anything that we didn’t see that happened?” Tsunade inquired, eyes flicking between the couple and her notepad.

“Well.. Right now, we’re stuck.” Sasuke’s little Mate spoke softly, almost unsure.

“‘Stuck’? What do you mean?” Shizune asked, incredibly intrigued.

“I knotted her. We’re tied together until it goes down.” Sasuke spoke up, his voice slightly annoyed like he wanted this to be over and to have time alone with his good little Minnow.

“So you’re species has a knot! Interesting!” She spoke excitedly and quickly scribbled it down in her notepad. Sasuke huffed and nuzzled into his Mate’s hair and inhaled her scent. Her scent, enhanced by the vigorous physical activity and it sent a fuzzy pleasurable haze to his brain that had his chest rumbling with a purr.

“Well, I don’t believe there’s anything else we need to observe, so let’s all head out and leave the couple be. And yes, that means everyone.” Tsunade spoke, adding sharply at the end as her harsh gaze landed on the guy that had been far too invested with the view. Sasuke, glad that the woman had realized their want for privacy, let out a small, quiet sigh of relief and watched them all file out. He glared and bared his teeth at the guy who insisted on leaving last and walked slowly to glance back at them. When he saw the Mer’s expression, he quickly filed out with the others. The raven-haired Mer stroked over his Mate’s bare back and soothed her hip where his grip had surely planted bruises.

“Gonna be such a good momma to our pups. Such a good mate. So so good.” He cooed at her and planted kisses on her face before landing on her lips. It was sweet compared to the rough, lustful, and debauched kisses from not long ago. His cock remained buried inside her with his knot plugging her up to keep his hot cum, his potent seed inside, to make sure she was properly and thoroughly bred. She hummed happily against his lips and relaxed against him as he slowly guided them to the small island trainers coaxed him onto during shows where they could simply rest.

Once they were settled, it didn’t take long for them to drift off, pleasurable heat warming them both and lulling them into a comfortable state. His knot remained full whilst they drifted and stayed as such for a while after they fell asleep. His member easily slipped out of her and back into his sheath once his knot softened enough. They stayed comfortably cuddled together until morning when the sound of the separation sliding open echoed in the otherwise silent area. In walked Shizune with a towel, clothes, and a kind smile as she approached the edge of the pool.

“Good morning. I know your clothes were, unfortunately, damaged,” she sent a teasing look at Sasuke who blushed and looked away with a small ‘hmph’, “so I thought I’d bring you a change of clothes. I’d also like to give you a small physical check-up after last night to make sure everything is all good and dandy. Afterwards, I have breakfast inside for you.” The kind woman spoke gently with a soft gaze.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Shizune! I really appreciate it.” Y/n smiled at her and looked back at Sasuke to silently communicate if it was okay for her to leave for a bit. He wasn’t quite pleased with it but he knew it was more than reasonable. To show his understanding he leaned up and captured her lips sweetly as his hands softly ran over the skin of her back and sides. Carefully, she lifted herself off of him, slightly wincing at the soreness in her hips and between her thighs. Instantly, he moved and held onto her firmly as he maneuvered them both further into the water to swim her back to the edge. Kissing him in silent thanks, she climbed out and accepted the towel with a smile at Shizune.

“See you in a bit, Minnow,” Sasuke said, he rested his chin on his crossed arm on the edge and looked up at her, admiring the view of her naked body. He was so used to staring at her in her cute little swimsuits and just imagining what she would look like without the coverage and actually seeing it was so much better than anything he could have imagined. The planes and curves of her body were so enticing that he knew he would never get tired of seeing her bare like that. Seeing her stomach as she dropped the towel to put on the clothes Shizune brought, he couldn’t wait to see it swell his child, to have physical evidence that she’s his.

“See you soon, love.” She cooed back at him as she pulled the shirt over her head after she buttoned the skirt closed. His whole face perked up at the nickname and he couldn’t stop the purr that erupted from his chest. Chuckling, she kneeled down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she stood to leave.

Exiting the shelter, she saw that the separation to the Aquatic Water Serpents was open while the morning crew did their rounds and fed the Mers, and performed check-ups if necessary. The younglings were occupied with the feeders and if any of them needed check-ups while Iruka was freely resting in the tank. When he saw her and Shizune passing by he quickly made his way to the edge to get to them.

“Hey.” He got their attention with a hiss, though remained quiet enough to not attract the attention of the younglings, “You’re lucky the younglings were already asleep down in the cove with how loud you were being.” He hissed out with a slight glare with no real heat behind it. Instantly, her face erupted with heat as her eyes widened in mortification. With a shrill whine of embarrassment, she buried her face in her hand with a muffled apology to the serpent. With Sasuke’s separation left open for the morning crew, he heard Iruka’s words and smirked. He was suddenly smug like he had never been before. A cockiness filled his chest as he reveled in the knowledge that he had made his Mate feel so good that she was loud enough to be heard through the walls. Instantly, he made the decision to ensure that he always made her feel that good.

He’d have her screaming his name every time.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog @hellsingalucard18

[alilobsessive]

Dreaming of Teeth

2

When experiencing great trauma the human brain will do anything to keep itself functioning, even to the detriment of the other body parts. The harm to your body doesn’t matter, just that the brain feels safe. For every human this can function in many ways, over eating, under eating, over sleeping, daydreaming and in your case alcoholism. You aren’t unaware that your coping mechanisms are dangerous, especially in a city like Gotham. But you can’t bring yourself to care, you’ll take anything then the anger and sadness that courses through your brain when you have time to think. So you indulge in your vices, even if they will lead you to an early grave.

You have done a great job at it too, of course that is until coming home from a party you run into one of the many people you prayed you would never see again. One of your many, many siblings.

Or

I just wanted to see a Batfam and Neglected! Reader fic we’re Reader had AWFUL coping mechanisms when dealing with their trauma.

Tw: Prominent OC usage, unreliable narrator but it’s not super obvious, Under aged drinking, Canon Typical Child Death (Jason), Canon Typical Child Undeath (Jason), Not Canon Typical Child Death (Unnamed Child OC), slight sexual content with unnamed character at the beginning, implied criminal activity, mention of organ harvesting, referenced underaged smoking, unspecified criminal activity, implied homelessness, references to drugs and sex but no actual drugs and sex, okay there is weed smoking, child abandonment, spousal abandonment, child neglect, spousal neglect, cheating, references to Red Hood typical murderers and the people who are usually his victims(rapist, traffickers you know the drill). Probably more things I haven’t realized count as tw or forgot to add. Idk I went into a fugue state at 10pm and when I came to it was 4am and I wrote a good chunk of this. Then spent like two weeks editing this, there might be some spelling and grammar errors, I am very dyslexic.

——————

Lights flashes around the room colorful and bright, your lips tangle with a strangers, back pressed against a wall. Arms wrapped around the neck of someone you have not met before today and someone who you will never see again after. Sitting next to you glancing over every few seconds is your roommate and while you would not call Phoebe your best she is your closest. The young woman isn’t as big of a fan of clubs and parties such as this one, but every night she dutifully comes. Just to make sure you’re safe in the dark Gotham streets. A sentiment you truly appreciate, a type of care and love you have never experienced before her.

You lightly moan as the stranger grinds against you, both your breaths smelling of alcohol. You’re brain muddled, only thinking about how good you feel. Dumb and giggling, not a worry to be had, just like you like it. But sadly before anything could go further, your phone's alarm went off, the most dreaded part of the night. A reminder that all this must be over, and responsibilities must come. With a wet pop as you separated from tonight’s partner and a whine of sorrow you reach into your jacket pocket for your phone, the drunken stranger takes this as an invitation to go for your neck. Leaving feather light kisses across it, with a small giggle you lightly push them back. They oblige with a whispered “aww come on baby” you feel nothing as they say this, but you desperately want to.

Turning off the alarm that normally is a loud blare, but with the mind numbing beat of the music, so loud you can feel it against the wall. With a pout and you whine out “I know” while looking up at them clearly disappointed. “I would love to stay with you longer” you would, you don’t want the buzz to go away. “But I have to go” reaching over next to yourself quietly, your roommate hands your glass over. It’s slightly warm from being lovingly guarded in her hands. You chug the rest of it down, the bitter sting as it goes down your throat a soothing balm to all your troubles, including leaving. “Aaw, at least call me later” they pout, with a drunken giggle and sweet voice “of course!” You say happily and once again press your lips against there’s. It’s a desperate thing, a reluctance to leave their grasp. But you pull away anyway, knowing that the second they put a hand back on your hips you’ll have to be pried off.

The alarm is a clear indication that that's not what sober you wanted. They wanted you out by 10, so you will be out by 10. Stumbling away and then turning back around to blow them another kiss, they wave back almost dreamily before being dragged away themselves by their own drunken friend. Neither of you have the other's phone number, let alone know each other’s name. Neither of you seem to notice or care. Phoebe is already at your side, quietly dragging you out of the club. Once you’re onto the sidewalk you slump onto her. “I wanted to spend more time there” you slur out with a pout, but she only rolls her eyes. The woman was definitely not dressed for clubbing of any kind. Clothing more like pajamas, not a speck of makeup on her face. Glasses perched against a crooked nose that never quite set right after something broke it. Despite Phoebe’s quiet and calm demeanor you can tell she’s anxious, just like you she has her own vices. Issues that she blocks away, but unlike you who drains your sorrows in booze, clubs and one night stands. The far more introverted women drains them in weed, blankets and porn.

“I know” she says softly ending it with your name and a sigh, “but we both have to be up by 6” responsibility, the thing you both hate. The two of you would rather be indulging, hiding from and blocking out the world. Doing nothing but having fun and pretending your issues don’t exist. But you can’t live without suffering, and suffer you must to keep a roof over your head’s, stomach’s full and wine flowing. She leads you to her car, a red mom van Phoebe’s had since before you became roommates two years ago.

But before you're even close enough to open it, you hear a voice, one you haven’t heard in years. He calls out the name of a dead man, almost surprised to see you. You turn to look at him, fear in your eyes at the name. The sight of him alone almost shocks you sober, if that’s even possible. Although it’s been several years since you saw him, you can instantly tell who you’re looking at. Phoebe looks at you confused, but says nothing, not recognizing the name, but understanding what your reaction means. Fear and dread curl up in your stomach, you want to cry, you want to scream. Why, why is one of them here, all you can do is stare at the man in front of you.

Your mother is a wealthy woman, married to an equally wealthy man. The Wayne family owned the biggest tech company in all of Gotham, making anything from cars to grappling hooks. Of course that’s not all they do, even before you were born they practically owned this city. Not just with there wealth, but with how many different types of pie’s they have there thumb in. Your mother loved your Father with all her heart, but Bruce Wayne didn’t love her back. It was well known he was a serial cheater, sleeping with and going out with as many other women as possible. He only married your mother because he needed to, it was to get the board of directors off his back. A wife was perfect to clean up his image, but that wasn’t what he desired. Instead of cleaning up his act and at least hiding his affairs he made them public. Your mother was left behind, neglected and humiliated every day. You were born a year into their marriage, how that even happened you don’t know, nor do you want to.

Neither of your parents loved you, even your mother, the person you were closest to, wanted as little to do with you as possible. The small sympathetic part of you thinks she might have had postpartum depression, but the rest of you doesn’t care why she treated you that way. What she did to you was inexcusable. In your eyes at least. One day when you were three, something inside her snapped. You don’t know exactly what happened, maybe she found out about his secret. She loved Bruce after all, not Batman, finding out that the man you love is nothing but a parsons. The real personality, completely different, both more willing to live in a cave than with you would break anyone. Why she would love Bruce at all given his treatment of her you will never know, never truly understand.

So, that cold winter day you watched as your mother put on her favorite fur coat. How she packed her leather suitcases and anything else she had that could be used as a storage container. She handed you a photo kept safe inside a frame, one that would lead you on a wild goose chase for the next 13 years. It was when you were a baby, just born and sitting inside an incubator, born 3 weeks too early and far too small. You’re Father, staring at you with eyes you have never seen on him before and never will, at least not directed at you. Eyes full of love and affection, a look you will chase for far too long. Then she gave you a pat on the head with her gloved hand, you would follow close behind as she carried her bags and suitcases outside, your small body sat right next to the door as it was too cold and you weren’t dressed for the weather. You watched as she got into a car

and dropped off the face of the fucking earth.

It was like she was retconned out of existence, no traces of where she might have gone was found. You bet Batman could have found her, if he tried. A part of you hates that he didn’t, that he let her pack up her things, take her money and vanish without a trace, took a week before she was declared missing. She’s still a hot topic in true crime podcasts even 20 years later. That woman left you all alone, with a Father you only saw in pictures and a butler that pitted you. There was never love in Alfreds eyes, only pity that you must exist. He looked at your mother with those same eyes, it’s a miracle she hadn’t left sooner. She left you to sit alone with a desperate desire for their affection, something they never gave to you, but so happily gave to others.

Why didn’t she take you? Why didn’t she bring you with her? WHY-

You were 5 when Dick was adopted and not long later became Robin. He didn’t know what to do with you, he spent the first 13 years of his life an only child. He didn’t know how to handle a random 5 year old coming up to him and asking him to play. Tie that in and all his grief and anger at losing his parents, he wasn’t able to be a big brother, he didn’t want to be a big brother. But Dick isn’t cruel, he was polite and kind, but as distant as they come. In a way that was even more cruel.

Bruce loves Dick, maybe not in the way of a Father, closer to that of a much younger brother that suddenly became your ward after the untimely death of your parents. But it is love nonetheless, he took him to gala’s that you would never catch a glimpse of. To patrols, and crime scenes and fights, teaching him the best he could. But Bruce could barely look at you at dinner, if he did it was through you, not at you. How his loving eyes in that photo turned so cold in just a few short months, maybe even days or hours, you don’t know.

That’s exactly the reason you hated Jason, the two of you are much closer in age. He was 14 and you were 11 when he was adopted. It was at a tumultuous time, Dick just left being Robin after a falling out with Bruce, and you had just learned that your Father and brother were Batman and Robin. At first you didn’t get why Dick hated Jason, Jason was the kindest boy you had ever met. No he was the kindest person you had ever met, dispute living an awful life and having to go through nicotine withdrawals when he first moved in he always had a smile on his face. He never let his trauma get him down, or at the very least he never showed it to you. In your eyes he was one of the strongest people you had ever met, you never looked up to Dick quite like how you looked up to Jason the first month he was there. He talked to you, he went along with your games and silly stories, even came to your figure skating competition, he was the closest thing to an older brother you ever had.

That all came crashing down, the day you finally got it, understood Dick’s hatred. For the first time all three of you were in the same room and Bruce gave Jason that look, the look you’ve been striving for your whole life. In hindsight it made sense, who wouldn’t love Jason? All smiles and playful banter and an unending desire to help. But in your little 11 year old brain it felt like the greatest betrayal. You wanted nothing to do with him from that point on, ignoring him no matter how desperately he tried to talk to you. It got so bad that one day, you yelled at him and threw the closet thing next to you at him. You couldn’t remember what you threw but it didn’t really matter, Jason caught it with ease, although he clearly wasn’t expecting it, and you ran. The two of you very rarely interact after that. From what you overheard Bruce talking to Alfred, Jason was getting more violent. Although you couldn’t see it yourself, Jason was just the same as usual, and that love never left Bruce's eyes. He should be happy, he got everything you ever wanted, he was happy, or so you thought.

Then one day he ran away, on some stupid quest to find his birth mother. Why would he even want that when he had people that loved him right here? So what if they weren’t his blood, they were still his family. What did that get him? Both him and his bio mom getting murdered that’s what. You were so angry at him, he wasn’t even there for a full year and he was already gone forever? Just like that? You didn’t even get to say goodbye! You hated Jason, and you miss him so much. To this day your greatest regret is that you couldn’t reconcile, not that you have the balls too. Not once in your several chances have you done so.

Tim was next, you never cared for Tim and he never cared for you. The boy showed up out of nowhere, he’s the same age as you. First going to Dick and begging him to be Robin again, Batman needs a Robin after all. Instead of asking you, he went straight to becoming Robin. Not that Bruce would let you become Robin, and not like you had the desire to become what killed your brother. Tim was technically not a part of the family, but he stayed around so often he practically was. It took a long time for Bruce to love Tim, but he grew on Bruce like a fungus. You didn’t care about Tim, you weren’t desperate for his approval. All you wanted was your Father’s love, that he so freely gave out to everyone else. The man who so freely hurt both you and your mother in the most humiliating of ways, not even acknowledging your relationship with him.

You met Cassandra after Gotham was safe to come back to, thankfully before No Man’s Land

your whole grade was on a week long field trip out of the city. Unthankfully the executive order to activate No Man’s Land came on the first day of the trip. No one could go back home after that, for months a whole high school class was stranded. Many of the school students were members of the elite so they were quickly brought back to their families when they fled. But yours didn’t, you struggled as one of the many Gotham refugees. But dispute this, for the first time in years you felt alive. Admittedly your 16 year old self didn’t make the best choices. You didn’t have a credit card, any identification outside of the school ID, no access to Wayne money. So you did whatever you could to get by. You made friends with people you shouldn’t have been friends with, very quickly falling into the mindset of doing anything to get a quick buck. But being completely cut off from your family for the first time. It made you realize how little you needed them. No, how little you needed him.

So coming back to Gotham after several months was strange.16 years old and suddenly seeing everything so differently, how much of a fool you were for wanting your father's approval and several bad habits you still haven’t beaten to this day. The fact that while you were gone, they had replaced you with Cassandra, pissed you the fuck off. Of course it did, who wouldn’t be angry! But not at her, not anymore, you were mad at Bruce. You hated everything about him, about being reminded of him. But you still loved him, still wanted him to look at you, tell you to your face that he didn’t want you instead of avoiding you and pretending you didn’t exist. Maybe then you could finally move on, or maybe not, you’ll never know. Cassandra was here, just like Dick she was polite but could care less about you. Just like everyone’s favorite hero Nightwing, puller of the Hero community! Who could do no wrong even when he did, all of this pissed you the fuck off

and made you so, so sad.

So you drank and went to parties full of people you barely knew, and drank some more. Getting a fake id in Gotham isn’t that hard, nore was finding clubs that wouldn’t look at it with more than a glance. The hard part was finding ones that also wouldn’t sell your organs. Buy that point you were barely at the manor, barely at school, only just passing most of your classes, sleeping in as many as possible for a variety of different reasons. No one at home cared, not Bruce, not Dick, not Alfred and his stupid pitying face. Every day he gave you that same fucking look, like he was sad for you. If he truly cared he would have tried to help ages ago before you were even born. You wanted to punch that old man in the face, but you didn’t because everyone loved Alfred. He was like a grandfather to everyone else in the maner, even a slightly threatening glare would set them off.

School was a different story altogether. People card there, but most only cared to look down on you or make fun of you. Thanks to your Father's past treatment of your mother and the fact that you're rarely seen in public with them. It’s clear to a lot of people you're not favored, that does mean you’re not kidnapped for ransom every other week like most of your classmates. But it also means all the high society types don’t like you that much, they ignore you at best, openly mock and belittle you at worst. But at this point, you didn’t give a shit, you had entered the dreaded, edgy 16 years old ‘I’m a lone wolf’ faze. Which you would be stuck in for an even more embarrassing amount of time.

Of course as the child of a ‘superhero’ the world's greatest detective, yada, yada, yada, life can never stay peaceful. Or as close to a form of peace Mr. Edgy Too-Cool-For-School 17 year old self could grasp onto. No, in fact there superherodum infected your everyday life, of course it did, there were villains left and right. Honestly your superseded Gotham isn’t a ghost town with how much shit goes down here. But an underrated part of being a superhero is how many times someone can be killed and then raised from the dead. To the point that every time a superhero dies you aren’t surprised when they come back from the dead anywhere from a few months to years later.

For the first time in a long time though, you were surprised. There was man you don’t recognize in the manor’s living room, sitting on the couch, gaze glued to the floor looking deep in thought. Tall, muscular, and covered in scars. He looked like someone you would have worked under during No Man’s Land. Right before you can turn heel and leave, he looks at you, you look back. Face morphing in a mix of shock and fear, his own going from neutrality to his signature sunny smile that’s burned into your brain. Jason calls out the name of a soon to be dead man, with the same glee he did all those years ago. His voice having changed so much over the years. Instead of going to the brother you so deeply missed, who you never stopped mourning, regretting, guilting over. You do what you always do, what you’ve been doing for years in fun different ways

You run

Just like your mother before you, on a cold winter’s day you put on a jacket. Pack as many bags as you can carry, take all the money you saved up and leave. Just like your mother before you, Batman, Bruce Wayne, the man you both desperately craved the love and affection of for so many years. Never comes looking for you, none of them do not even Jason. You’re a coward, same as your mother. You will always be a coward, you have come to accept that fact. That you will never be strong enough to confront them.

Yet you can’t leave this city, you don’t have the heart to.

In a place like Gotham, no one glances twice at a teenager carrying lots of bags in the cold. You don’t look twice at them either. As quickly as you can, you change your name. Not just your last name, your whole name, first, middle and last. With no remnants of your Father and mother left, the Wayne you once were is dead. You are now a new person entirely, at least in a legal sense. Now your name is just yours not there’s, if only you could change more on a deeper, visceral level.

Life was tough, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, got help, made friends. Eventually finding your way into the shabby apartment you live in with your roommate, your closest friend. Now you’re living comfortably, compared to before at least. Of course someone had to fuck it up. We’re-we’re he- Jason, he stands right in front of you, okay not right, he’s a good 5 or so feet away, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to just walk closer. Fuck you haven’t seen anyone in that good forsaken family in person in 6 years! Now that you finally have everything together, finally have a decent life of your own. You’re biggest regret and shame stands right before you.

Phoebe takes a step in front of you trying to protect you from Jason. Like she can protect you from a muscular man twice her size, a former Robin no less, even if it was a short stint, even the most basic of training is fucking brutal. Jason looks amused at her reaction, clearly having the exact same thought. He calls that god damn name again, if you were sober, you would have probably pretended to not know who that is and say he got the wrong person. But you’re not, you’re drunk and scared, and that’s a recipe for disaster. “That’s not my name” you say quickly, but not steadily. “Wa-“ he looks at you confused, then he really looks at you, with the eyes not of an older brother running into their estranged sibling on the street. But as a trained detective, “are you drunk?” Jason asks in a mix of shock and concern. “That’s not-that’s none of your fucknn bugisiness” you slur out, definitely drunk but also panicking. Walking closer Jason continues to speak “I’m your older brother! You getting drunk and running around the dark streets of Gotham is definitely my business!” Instead of responding like a sane and rational person. You grab Phoebe by the arm and yell “GET IN THE CAR!” Then booking it to the car with your best efforts, Jason just stands there watching you, baffled.

Opening the door and shoving Phoebe in the front seat, she awkwardly crawls over to the driver’s side. You then slide in and slam the door closed, already aggressively shaking her saying “drive! drive! drive!” Increasingly panicked, before she can even properly get seated. She lightly shoo’s your hands away as she gets seated and pulls out her keys. Turning the car on and speeding away, both of you unaware that as she pulls away from the sidewalk Jason takes out his phone and takes a picture of her license plate. He put it back in his pocket with a sigh, now Jason was planning on letting you come back home on your own terms. He completely understands the desire to brood away from your family for several years because you’re mad at them. But after seeing that? Well it’s clear to Jason that if he doesn’t force you to come back you never will

and we can’t have that now can we?

Your appointment is small, two bedrooms both just big enough for a twin and a dresser. An open living room and kitchen, with a single cramped bathroom that can’t even hold a tub. The few windows all open to an alleyway with a fire escape that is barely up to code. One of the windows is boarded up, having been broken recently during a Batman chase sequence. The guys your landlord hired to fix it won’t be able to come for another week. Your couch looks like a possum had given birth in it, which might be true seeing as Phoebe stole it off the street with her old roommate before you came into the picture. The tv is so old it’s still a box and doesn’t get Netflix, not like either of you are subscribed to a streaming service. Pirating all the way! Compared to Wayne manor this place is a dump.

It’s perfect

Really most places would be considered a dump by Wayne manor standards. This has been the second nicest apartment you lived in since you moved out. And you don’t even feel like you’re mooching off the kindness of a sweet single mother and her 8 year old brat with this one! Currently your face is shoved into a pillow as you lay on the stolen possum nest. Phoebe stands by one of the windows, having opened it and leaning on the sill. You can hear a lighter being flipped on and off from we’re she’s standing. Then the smell of weed smoke fills your nose.

“So..” she begins “what the actual fuck was that” “I don’t want to talk about it” came your muffled reply. “No seriously what the fuck?” She said, you could hear her footsteps walking towards you. “Out the window!” You point behind your back to the general direction of the window. “Listen I’m all for ignoring your problems and keeping your dark past to yourself” she ignores your previous statement, her voice much closer than before. “But as your roommate I need to know the basics of what I’m working with here. That guy who looks like he works for The Penguin or some shit-“ “Penguin?!” You almost laugh out. “Ya! Like gang shit!” “I know but why The Penguin?” She sputters at that “I don’t fuckin know! He’s like on the top of my Gotham gang leader’s tier list!” “You have a tear list?? The Penguin is on the top of it??” You’re voice filled with a mix of amusement and confusion “We live in Gotham!” Is her defense “Of course I have a tier list!” Phoebe huffs.

You squirm onto your back, face still covered by the pillow. “Hold on, what level is Red Hood?” “He’s not on it, he’s a superhero.” She says it like it’s a fact, “he’s literally not though? He kills people” “please the only people he kills are rapists, abusers and human traffickers. Hero in my book- the point is I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not with the Joker-“ that sentence alone made you laugh for a minute straight. Phoebe stood there quietly smoking her cigarette as you cackled violently. Once calmed down you finally say “Jason would rather hunt him for sport then work for him. I can’t imagine any timeline where Jason works for the Joker. That would be so out of character for him.” She hums in acknowledgment. “So this guy- Jason- you’re brother- shows the fuck up out of nowhere, both of you shocked to see each other dead names you-“ “in his defense I changed my name after we cut contact” “right good on you Y/N” that statement made you lower the pillow from your face and onto yours chest. Staring at her from the other side of the couch like she’s crazy.

“Y/N?” You ask “ya, you know like, your name? Y/N” “no I get what you’re talking about” you cut her off. “But why the fuck did you just call me the name placement for an X Reader fic?” She shrugs and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Helped with calming you down, didn't it?” “What? Ugg” you put a hand up to your face, “your distracting me!” “And probing for answers!” She cheers out. “So what about him got you so freaked out, hmm girly pop?” You groan again, properly sitting up, feet on the floor, pillow in your lap. She slides into the now free spot next to you.

“It’s just- we have a super complicated relationship, and he’s the sibling I have the best relationship with, but with him still being in contact with the family… I don’t know, we… we got into a bad argument and before we could make up he… went missing for 5 years. Then he was suddenly found after being declared dead for so long- I… I panicked, ran… ended up here.” You look in the opposite direction of her almost shamefully. The both of you sit in silence for a bit, it’s quiet for a long time before with an almost defeated sigh she finally speaks. “When I graduated high school my grandparents went on a road trip to go to a family reunion in a different state.” She starts, and you turn to look at her “I stayed behind, my relationship with the family wasn’t the best to begin with and I didn’t want to spend several days in a cramped car with people I barely liked. My younger sister on the other hand went, the two of us had a pretty significant age gap, about 9 years. Just a day into the trip they got into a nasty car accident” She takes a stutery breath, and puts her cigarette back in her mouth, blowing on it. “Everyone else, my grandparents, aunts and cousins. They all lived, not her though, she was the only person in the car that wasn’t an adult, the others got serious injuries that needed surgery’s for. But her body was decimated, died instantly, and brutally mangled.” You just stare at her, horror clear on your face. Hers is almost completely blank, not even hear at the moment, mind far off and somewhere else.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask her, she glances over to you before looking away. “You were telling me things you didn’t want to talk about, to remember. So I’m doing the same.” “but yours is way more detailed. I was being so vague! Now I feel bad” “don’t be, I was debating on if i should tell you this anyways. No pressure with going into more detail about your mysterious past.” with a sigh you look down at your feet. Not knowing what to say next, if you should even say something next. Finally after a bit of internal debate you say the first thing that comes to mind “this is not how I wanted the day to go”, Phoebe laughs “me neither”. “He probably won’t be an issue.” You continue fiddling with your hands, “the rest of my family never really cared about me, I was basically just a ghost in their house. Hell I don’t even know if my sister knows my name!” “Yeesh” “ya… he was the only one that really cared, so outside of him probably having already found where we live-“ “what” “we shouldn’t have to deal with the rest of my family” she opens her mouth to speak again. “Or worry about gangs” she closes it “most of my siblings work for are Dad’s tech company anyways. They have no reason to join a gang.” “A family business? In Gotham?” she chuckles “If it doesn’t have ties to some gang or isn’t like 3 generations old or both, I don’t see that place still standing.” now you laugh, if only she knew.

If only she knew.

——————

A/N time!

I have some more ideas for this AU but I admittedly don’t know much more of what to do with it. Like I have a lot of ideas for character relationships but not a lot of plot. I know at some point Reader is dragged back to the Wayne’s but I haven’t fully decided if it’s willing or not.

I do have a few ideas for what Reader’s name was before they became a Y/N L/N. But I didn’t want it to come off too much like the reader is an OC. I also don’t want to pick a name that someone reading this might have. Which is a slim but very there possibility, would be pretty fucking immersion, breaking if the character who canonically change their name to be yours/whatever OC you make already had yours/whatever OC you make is first name. So I’ll probably keep those ideas to myself.

Also if it isn’t clear, I have never once smoked in my life. I'm more of an edible girly myself, more powerful and you're not inhaling smoke! It’s a win win! Also I have no experience writing someone who is drunk or high, so there probably also written poorly. In fact I’ve never once gotten as drunk as the reader does in this. Admittedly I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending with them drunk.

Thinking about making the floor plan of the apartment in the sims, but idk it’s not going to be that important? If I do end up continuing this like I have planned. I’m already working on chapter two! Which expands on things mentioned here and hopefully shows even more how much of an unreliable narrator reader is. Idk I’ve only started the first few paragraphs.

I know not many X reader fics go into detail about the Reader is non from fandom relationships. Which makes sense, it’s called Batfam X Neglected Reader after all, not Reader and the OC gang. I honestly just felt like filling out the world with more non DC or other franchise characters. Don’t worry if I do continue this it won’t be a common trend, Phoebe will be the only commonly reoccurring named OC. If/when I add more they won’t be as prominent or fleshed out as her. She’s very important to the plot I’ve got cookin in my brain :).

Fun fact! Phoebe didn’t originally have a name! She was referred to solely as roommate up till the last minute!

[honeykaes]

lustful vices

stelleron-hunter!sunday x stelleron hunter!reader II 3.4k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no pronouns, angst, mention of blood, corruption kink, virginity loss, fingering, cunnilingus, mention of blood, minor character deaths, switch!reader, switch!sunday, unedited

synopsis: what would you do for one wish? would you sacrifice everything just to see a glimpse of it? that's a question you posed to the newcomer of the stelleron hunters, sunday. As he tries to adjust to his new life, you suggest some new vices he can indulge in to cope.

Water dripped from the corner of the dark room. Golden eyes burned into the concrete ground, widened in shock and pity. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, he was sure his gloved nails dug into the wooden chart he was chained to.

Teeth gnawed down on his chapped lips, worried at what the Heartstone woman just said and left him with

“You’re free now. Someone made a deal for you.”

Despite years of being pruned, clipped, and groomed to become the Oak Family Head, he knew no one in the Family had his back. His heart ached knowing the one person who would sacrifice something to see him alive.

“Robin…” he grunted, narrowing his eyes. What did she promise that woman?  He heard of that woman’s dealings with the Bonnajade Exchange. An eye for an eye—something Jade seemed to relish in.

Would Robin’s life be in danger now she was ensnared by that woman? She was forever tied to that snake. How could he put an end to this when he knew Jade would amusingly keep them separated until the days they perished? 

He had so much he wanted to say to his sister. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to yell at her on her decision to help outsiders. He wanted to cry in her arms and convince her to run away with him, so they can start a new life together.

As Sunday grunted, his eyes lurched up hearing noises from outside. Muffled shouting echoed from behind the door, and the sound of bullets firing to whomever were their victims. 

Could this be the Astral Express and that strange Galaxy Ranger? He fought a sardonic laugh. He tried to kill them; those people would leave him to rot just as his ”family” did.

But who is causing all this chaos? He wondered if one fray bullet managed to lodge itself in Jade’s head, truly freeing him and Jade from the new cage she had made them.

As it became silent, the door slowly opened revealing yourself. Your lips were formed in a smug smile, blood smearing across your face. A taller man narrowed his bloodred eyes as he stood by the doorway. You leaned over as Sunday tilted back, wanting distance between you two Your amused yet calculating eyes lapped up his pitiful expression.

“So this was the famous Sunday? How the angels have fallen,” you teased. Sunday grunted, eyebrows furrowing. As he opened his mouth, you pressed her finger to his lips.

“Relax there, birdie. I was just teasing. Besides, we’re here to get you out. The IPC is temporarily…decommissioned, giving you enough time to leave and come with us,” you chimed. 

The man in the doorway grunted, flinging blood that was on his broken sword.

“Seems you picked up Kafka’s bad habits with nicknames,” the man grumbled. Sunday scoffed, lips curling into a cruel smile. His golden eyes narrowed, bearing into your own.

“They already promised me my freedom. A soldier was on their way to uncuff me.”

You clicked your tongue, hand drifting to the soft feathers of the wing’s on Sunday’s head as he purged back. The wings puffed up in frustration as you chuckled again.

“Perhaps but is that truly freedom Sunday? Would you like to know the deal your dear sister made on your behalf?” you offered. Sunday tightened his jaw, looking to the ground.

It seemed like yet another group is trying to prospect him to become their tool. First the Oak Family, then the Astral Express crew, now the Stelleron Hunters? Why was everyone insisting on him becoming a pawn?

He was so sick of being controlled, yet the image of Robin burned in the back of his mind.

With a sigh he looked back up to her.

“What.”

Your grin widened.

“Your pretty dove promised to, well, never see you again. Fate worse than death when you two were so close through thick and thin,” you murmured, crossing your fingers. Sunday looked at you shocked.

“How is that even possible? How would Jade even-”

“That snake knows how to wrap around her prey. Trust me, she would make it where your sister won’t even gaze in your potential direction the rest of this lifetime,” you murmured, a more somber response than the condescending tone from earlier.

His head ached from stress as his gaze faltered away from yours, leg bouncing anxiously as he racked his thoughts with the revelation.

Making this deal, Robin was susceptible to that schemer. She’s right in the clutches of a venomous snake baring their fangs at a meek sparrow. He knew he was right to try and keep her safe, only for this to happen.

How can he fix this?

Sensing his dilemma, you leaned back, lifting your gun up and examining the weapon. Your gaze was much colder.

“You have two options now. Join the Stelleron Hunters and follow Elios’ script which will promise a reunion between the two of you…or live knowing you’re the reason why your sister is now a victim of the IPC.”

“....”

He hated this. He hated everyone. How much more did he need to sacrifice…

You crossed her arms as your colleague grunted.

“Well?”’

He’d let the world burn if it would make his sister smile.

“Fine…uncuff me.”

It had been two weeks since Sunday joined the Stelleron Hunters. He had joined them for a couple jobs, following Elios’ script to a T. Elios seemed to be pairing you and him together, but he had met the rest of the team. He recalled seeing Firefly on Penacony. 

He had learned the intimidating man in the room when he met you was Blade. He had met yet another condescending woman who also called him ‘Birdie’ and the teenager with a bad attitude who only seemed interested in hacking and gaming.

You and him resided in a bar in a hotel of whatever planet you had dragged him to for the script. Tomorrow you two will be off yet again, raising the price of his bounty bit by bit with every action he followed the the script.

Sunday sipped on his wine, feeling unamused as he placed it down. His gaze wandered to you with a bit of scorn and superiority he still felt despite not being the Oak Family Head anymore.

“...I still never would have imagined in my life I would team up with the Stelleron Hunters,” Sunday sighed. You chuckled, taking a sip of your cocktail. You leaned your cheek into your hand, soft skin pillowing against it.

“Well, I didn’t either. We all have our reasons for wanting to join, being a slave to whatever desire we are looking for,” you murmured, swirling your drink around. You eventually stop, stumping your fingers to the edge of the bar. 

“You want to see and save your sister. Firefly wants to live, Blade wants to die. Kafka wants to understand what loss and fear mean. All of us are slaves to destiny,” you responded. Sunday narrowed his eyes, it seems you withhold something important from your statement.

“And what do you want?” he asked. You snorted.

“Me? Well…I guess love,” you replied. Sunday’s eyebrows narrowed, scoffing. His eyes looked down before up again, checking your body language. Although it seems you were being serious, he didn’t believe a word.

“You? You’re joking?” he replied. You smiled and shrugged.

“My home planet was wartorn thanks to the IPC. I admit, it wasn’t necessarily as bad as Firefly’s situation but my life has been all about strategy, battles and blood since I turned 18 years old. My civilization decided to fight against the beacons of the Amber Lord….only to be wiped out,” you sighed.

“What I wish is just to go back to normalcy. Find love, settle down, find peace or whatever. Act like these 8 years didn’t exist,” you murmured. Your lips were still curved in a smile despite your somber tone. 

“What’s stopping you?” Sunday asked.

“The IPC. Got a pretty big hit on my head even prior to joining the Stelleron Hunters. I can never find peace until they’re dealt with,” you grunted, rolling your eyes. Sunday looked away from you, gazing at his reflection in the deep red color of his wine. You seemed so adapted to this despite being fairly new to the Stelleron Hunters yourself.

They all did. Although he was getting the job done, the mental toll of everything tugged on him.

“...How do you, manage all of this? I don’t get why you all sacrifice so much just to follow a script you have no idea will end,” he asked. You paused finishing your drink before swiveling your chair, so you were facing him.

“You’re doing the same, Sunday. We’re not that different at all despite you insisting we are,” you chimed, narrowing your eyes. You let out a chuckle, lightening up once more.

“Besides, all of us do little things to cope. Silverwolf for one spends way too much on video games. You should look at Kafka’s wardrobe. I swear she has every outfit combination she can, and she still purchases crap. Blade just consistently fights and spars swearing he will defeat whomever the fuck…” you grunted.

“And your vice…?”

A smirk crept onto your face. You leaned closer to Sunday as his eyes slightly widened in shock, feeling your finger tilt his chin up. 

“Teasing unsuspecting Holovians for a laugh.”

Sunday’s cheeks momentarily redden before he grunts, pushing you off. You laughed again.

“Geez, tough crowd. And I thought you were known for your upbeat personality,“ you sarcastically added.

“Be serious,” Sunday demanded.

“Fine, fine. Occasional I might go home with someone,” you admitted. Sunday’s eyes narrowed in understanding. You found comfort in sex. He never really understood what was so appealing about it, but at the same time he didn’t have much time to even focus on it to begin with.

“So lust is your vice despite you searching for love? Seems counterproductive,” he replied. Despite the insult, you grinned.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sunday. Don’t put on a high horse when Penacony was known for indulgence,” you added. “What was the saying again: whatever happens in Penacony, stays in Penacony, hm?”

Sunday momentarily clears his throat, rose dusting at his cheeks.

“That was for others, not myself. I helped people to a higher path,” he said. Your face morphed to disbelief.

“...Without indulging in any vices? Tsk, tsk, tsk. No wonder you’re so high strung,” you muttered.

Sunday narrowed his eyes. 

You lifted your hand and brushed past his feather like you did the day you two met. The wings  shuttered but didn’t puff out like the last time you tried it.

“...Well, would you like to try? Experience what you missed out years on,” you cooed, tapping his golden earring. You leaned in closer, placing your hand on his upper thigh.

“And find out just what was appealing to those hundreds of people who confessed to you,” you whispered in his ear, Sunday’s body shuttered, eyebrows furrowed.

“So you’re more like a tempress huh? Coax people to do whatever dirty thing they can. Is that your role here? As much as you proclaimed you're a fighter, the softness of your hands tells me everything I need to know about you.”

Your smirk grows at his observation.

“So how about it, birdie? Mark this new chapter abandoning all you know and let yourself experience life’s indulgences…” you cooed, blowing cool air into his ear. His hand grabbed your own. Just as you leaned back taking it as a sign of rejection—Sunday scoffed—gloved hand digging into your own.

Your gaze caught to the tent developing in his slacks.

“...Alright.”

Sunday sat on the bed, his throat felt dry. Why was he so nervous? 

His heart seemed to be wanting to lurch out of his chest..

As much as he denied it, he was curious about lust and sex. He recalled numerous confessions where people had admitted wavering their eyes from their “beloved” spouses, but he never truly understood why.

Meeting you, he’s beginning to start to.

His breath hitched—feeling you sit down on his lap—gently rotating your hips. Your core grinded against his bulge as nails dug into the silky hotel bed sheets. 

Your hands made their way to his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. With each pop of the button he could feel sweat beginning to cling onto his hair. His eardrums pounded as he gaze continued to flip to your expression, and to his slowly revealing bare chest.

Just as the final button was undone and you slowly pulled his top off. Your lips hovered next to his jugular, soft lips pressing down on the warm and tense skin. 

“You need to relax more. Are you sure you want this? We can stop now,” you suggested. Sunday shook his head, trying to snap him out of his timidness.

“No. I want this. I…need this,” Sunday admitted. He could feel the smile you made press against his nape.

“Oh, so the spoiled rich boy can tell the truth?” you cooed. Sunday rolled his eyes and was about to yell a retort only for his voice to hitch as your swipe swiped along his neck.

You guided his hands onto your chest. With hesitantly squeezed the mounds, as you chuckled.

“See, you’re doing good. Just follow your heart and instincts.”

You had eventually taken your shirt off, letting it fall to the ground with the other articles of clothing.Sunday rolled his thumb against your nipples, lips parted as he could feel them hardened against his touch.

With a quivering lip, Sunday leaned into the soft mouths pressing his lips to the plush breast. His tongue slowly darted out before skating around the perimeter of your nubs. 

As your hand reached down, cupping his cock, Sunday gasped, letting the nipple plop into his mouth. He sucked, eyebrows narrowed as you hand made way beneath his pants, pumping his cock.

His cock jolted. You could feel it pulsating at your touch. It seemed longer than you expected, with a bit of heaviness to it too. Just as your thumb grazed the tip, Sunday bit down on your tip of your nipple. You gasped and chuckled.

“Guessing you enjoyed that, huh?” 

Sunday lifted his mouth up, lips gleaming from his saliva.

“...Stop teasing me already and get to the point.”

“Ahhh you’re rushing the best part. I’m guessing you didn’t know foreplay typically makes things feel better for you,” you cooed. “But alas, I understand. You’re eagerness is showing former Oak Family Head.”

You shimmied Sunday's slacks and briefs off, as his cock plopped onto his lean and toned chest. It quivered, lolling to the side desperate for more of your attention. You had risen from your seat, taking your own pants off.

Sunday caught the strings of slick that connected the fabric of your underwear, thighs and cunt. He felt his mouth water, gulping slightly as he drank up your entire nude form.. His hand reached out and connected with your thigh. It wandered from up as he relished the touch of your soft skin, pillowy texture of your chest, to the district angles of your face.

This was lust incarnate, he knew it in his heart.

“Ready?”

You leaned on top of his lap, cunt hovering above his throbbing cock. You circled your click in preparation, slowly sliding it down.

Sunday swore he felt bells as soon as his tip connected with your velvety entrance. His hips intentionally bucked up, sliding himself deeper as you chuckled, finally gliding it down.

He sucked a breath in. wrapping your arms around you tight. His heart fluttered fighting the urge to plow inside. He could feel your tight cunt squeeze and coax him to slide deeper, if it was possible.

Just as you lifted your hips, about to ride him, Sunday’s grip on you got tighter, a loud groan reverberating throughout the room.

Thick ropes of warm cunt shot inside of you, as his hips meekly jolted up. His back arched, covering his moan of any further pathetic noises from escaping. His eyes slowly opened, feeling his high finally come down gazing at your slightly disappointed face.

He could feel himself softening inside of you.

“I-I…I don’t know what happened…” Sunday admitted. “I tried to control myself but”

You sighed but gave a supportive smile.

“I know. It’s your first time. I would have been surprised if you lasted longer to be honest. You never masturbated or have sex, right? This was bound to happen,” you murmured. You lifted yourself off of his cock, his eyes gazing at his cum leaking down your thighs.

“I won’t lie, I am a bit sad I won’t get my fill but there are other ways of that,” you murmured, laying beside him, looking up at the ceiling. The burn of arousal was beginning to shimmer between your thighs.

Sunday looked down, lapping up the view of your body.

“Like what?”

You grinned at the question, lulling your head to the side.

 “Curious still? Well, there’s different ways. Toys, but I didn’t pack any. And these guys,” you stated, wiggling your fingers.

“Show me.”

You hummed, letting your hands slide down the curves of your waist and thighs before settling at your cunt. Your finger slides along the slit a couple of times before you gaze a dramatic moan as Sunday tensed further, to your satisfaction.

Your thumb settled on your clit, beginning to rub circles. Sunday noted that was the same spot you did before getting on top of him.

“Doing this for a little while can get me to that euphoric feeling you just had. You can also slide your fingers in too, but the main focus should be right here.” you hummed. You continued, and closed your eyes, letting your other hand grip tightly on your breast.

Your hips began to grind down on your fingers, inching closer to your high.

“Wait! Let me do it!” Sunday grunted. You opened your eyes to see Sunday, moving your hands away. His long fingers followed the same movements, grazing your slit before letting his calloused thumb press tightly against your clit. His movements were slow but began to go faster as he felt more sure of himself.

You were squirming beneath him, and he couldn’t help smiling. It was so interesting, having him on top of you now. He liked it. He liked you under him, his touch being the ultimate desire of reaching euphoric highs.

He liked being in control.

His fingers sank into your cunt, drilling as his pace didn’t let up. He noted the way your nails harpoon against the bed sheets as his timidly once did. He noted the way your moans didn’t seem fake, they were as soft and pathetic as the ones he had made.

Your face leaned to the side, gaze half-lidded beguiling him further. 

He thought righteousness would save him. No, perhaps sin will instead.

After all, he can just ask for forgiveness later.

He leaned his head into your cunt, tongue beginning to swirl on the bundle of nerves as his fingers continued to plow against him. Your hands weaved their way into his silver hair, pulling him further into your core. He could taste your sweet arousal mixed with the saltiness of his cunt, an aroma that he knew would dream off once everything was settled in the early hours of the morning.

He felt your walls begin to clamp on his fingers, giving him a harder time plowing as quickly into you. Curling his fingers up, to try to slide deeper, he heard you gasp out his name loudly.

“There! Right there Sunday!” you shouted. He continued his ministrations there, watching your body spasm as his other hand connected with your thigh, spreading you out further.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cursed out, throwing your head back. Your hips lifted up as Sunday’s eyes widened. He felt you clamp onto his fingers as he slurped up the excess essence drooling out of you. Your whole body rocked, with whimpers and whines falling from your lips.

As your body plopped down, Sunday lifted his head up from your core and slid his fingers out. He tongue lapped up the remaining juices clinging onto him, watching your tired eyes open again. Your chest was heaving, drool managing the drip down a corner.

“I thought you were just a virgin…” you muttered breathlessly. A new found but familiar confidence fell over Sunday As he crawled on top of you. His cock lurched, hardened and pulsating, eager to try again as it nudged against your burning clit.

“I’m a fast learner.”

Perhaps he can adjust to becoming a Stelleron Hunter better than he originally thought.

[violet-eng]

Fem!reader married to a Neuvillette who loves not her but someone else | NSFW 🔞 + 😢

In this one I'm going out on a limb, because I presume without any argument other than my own intuition, that Neuvillette and Focalors had a platonic relationship with feelings never confessed out of fear or genuine ignorance of them (like Violet Evergarden, yes). But you are Neuvillette's wife and so you will fall victim to his coldness when Focalors dies.

Includes NSFW with the reader and angst. Never mistreatment because Neuvi is a gentleman. NOTHING BETWEEN FOCALORS/FURINA AND NEUVI NONONO

⚠️ Warnings: established relationship between Neuvillette and reader, implied cheating, unloving and unprotected sex, pregnancy, sex during pregnancy, mentions of masturbation. Mentions of death. More sex between spouses bc yes.

mndi, if you feel unconfortable reading this then don't. Your mental health is first.

6k words, not edited.

💧💧💧💧💙💙💙💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️💧💧💧💧💧💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️

You had seen him crestfallen the last few weeks, after the flood, self-conscious in his own thoughts, drowning in his remorse and cowardice.

Neuvillette does not understand human feelings, not at all, though love is supposed to be a passion that transcends the natural laws of evolution. Focalors had been his friend, his companion, in the bruised body of a puppet that felt so real that its strings seemed invisible.

There was no denying the deep affection that had grown between the two, Neuvillette and Focalors, two wandering souls, roaming the world with ancestral antiquity, companions destined to the sound of agony and separation, haunted by the solemn ignorance of innocent creatures.

Love… what was it but a word in a spoken contract.

Neuvillette had married you months ago, a happy and superficially authentic marriage. You had captured his attention, and his knowledge of humans, as the Great Chief Justice, could be satiated by knowing you, a faithful human companion, devoted wife, and sublime lover.

The bed was the only moment where you two connected, where, to the rhythm of the waves, Neuvillette penetrated his marital responsibility towards your depths, that which he considered appropriate towards his so-called wife, who, in a frenzy of pleasure, crushed his pale back with her nails, set to music by the melodious moans he tore from your sweaty breast… There was no connection beyond the sexual, for as a dragon, despite the years, it is very difficult for him to connect with humans.

Focalors was an oceanid, and he was a dragon sovereign. Both turned human. Nothing more to add, two rulers abandoned by the world they were supposed to protect, what would grow between them but pure trust and admiration that would obviously develop into love?

Neuvillette didn't understand. Not until that moment. He had been deaf to his innocent heart pounding anxiously every time Focalors entered his office in her unruly human form, rampant in color and expression. He had been unaware of the flame of satisfaction in his chest that burned hot when she spoke to him in the privacy of their conversations in the theater…he did not understand, not until he understood that he would eventually lose her.

He cried, for the first time he let someone see him cry in his human form. Focalor's words, so exquisite before him, ethereal in her ornate louvered dress, echoed in his head…and in his heart… ….

"Hydrodragon, Hydrodragon… don't cry," she whispered… and he, very reluctant to leave her, wished with all his might to leap upon her, wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He would flee with her on his lap, in his draconic form, leaving Fontaine and everyone else to their fate.

No… a Sovereign would not do that… he would not do that… for to abandon his oath would deserve the most dastardly punishment of all. And maybe, just for thinking that, he deserved what happened next.

"Farewell, Neuvillette," her words, pure in his human form. His companion, his friend, his mentor… his soul mate, tossed away like the foam on the shore of a beach.

Death was a human concept, without transcendence over evolution… love, however, was another story.

He came home like a soldier after the war, he came back without a part of himself… he came back to his boring life married to a woman he doesn't even love, at least not the way you really deserve him.

"Darling," you offer him a glass of fresh spring water from Quiaoying Village, because you know he doesn't like anything else, especially in dark times like these, a glass of the freshest, coldest water suits him wonderfully.

He drinks from the glass, almost as stoic as ever, though his face is stiffer than usual. Routine is becoming overwhelming for both of you, and Neuvillette is suspiciously distant from you, more so than usual. You stroke his cheek while he sleeps to help him fall asleep, you make him breakfast in the mornings and serve him dinner when he comes home, all without so much as a hello.

You suspect the worst, because your friends have planted the idea in your head that Neuvillette has a mistress, and not far from the truth, his heart belongs to another.

After the flood, many had left Fontaine, and perhaps your husband's mistress was among them, or so you thought. How painful it had been for you to see him break for another woman, to see him crack at his most human for a heart that was not yours.

Overwhelmed, you write him a letter with the idea of leaving him and traveling to Sumeru with one of your friends in search of a new life, but everything is cut short when your symptoms begin. Pregnancy was imminent, after all the nights the Iudex had taken you into your bed, it was to be expected.

You receive Neuvillette that night, frustrated by your own doubts, debating between informing him of your condition or simply fleeing to new horizons with your child. It is so difficult to decide when your husband is the Iudex of Fontaine… and when you care about his reputation because you love him sincerely.

There is no need to search for words when your husband is a dragon with keen senses, for as soon as he set foot in the house, he sensed the scent of his brood stirring within you. The Iudex's interest, however, lay in whether or not you would confess to him.

"A package arrived for you this afternoon," Neuvillette comments as he sips the tea you prepared for him, pointing to a bag on the front table.

"Ah, yes," you say half-heartedly, taking the bag in your hands, emotions spilling from your chest as you crumple the paper between your fingers.

You sigh deeply, thinking that maybe this gift is your way of saying goodbye to him, of silently making amends and apologizing for something that is absolutely not your fault other than falling in love with the wrong man.

You take out of the bag an encyclopedia, a thick book with thick paste and yellow pages, brought from Sumeru, recommended by the very scribe of the Academya, a book of human anthropology for your dear strange husband, who seems to have a real interest in human behavior. Neuvillette looks at it as if it were a revelation, as incredulous as he is moved, touched by your gift and your attention to his interests. You try to say something, to tell him that you are pregnant, but you stop when you hear him speak.

"I know you're expecting my child," Neuvillette says, without going into the details of how he found out, touching the rim of the teacup, a wedding gift. "Whatever you need, tell me, health, food, you know I will cover all expenses."

"I want to go to Sumeru," you confess in an almost whispered tone, your words seeming to be carried away by the wind rushing through the window.

"That wouldn't be good," for a Hydro Dragon hatchling, of course it wouldn't. "You're too young to venture into a new nation, especially one with new leaders like Sumeru, not to mention the dry climate."

You don't argue, knowing he's right, and decide to simply retreat to your room and wallow in your defeat.

Neuvillette, however, with what little empathy he has generated, caresses the book with his fingertips, gliding over the fine markings carved into the cover.

A gift, he had never given you a gift before, but you had given him a gift by taking the initiative.

The months passed quickly. The precariousness of your relationship, increasingly dry on your part, provokes something in Neuvillette.

He looks at you from his side of the bed, the way you sleep peacefully with a swollen belly, carrying his little dragon without knowing it, without trying to get rid of it, loving it from the first moment. Neuvillette has seen you singing lullabies to your child these past few months, reading him stories while caressing your belly, telling him how much you want him to be born strong and healthy.

He's grateful for the deep affection you have for your child, so much so that he has tried to show it. Maybe what he read in the book worked, or maybe it is just a product of his new feelings for his wife, who is about to become a mother. He would do anything for your son to be born healthy and with a healthy mother.

He buys you fritters on the way home, from the store he found out you like best, courtesy of some Melusine, and sits next to you at the dinner table, trying to take an interest in your day and tell you about his, always aiming for your peace, a healthy heart would bring a healthy child.

His devotion is to the birth of your child, because that's what he tells himself. It's not that he was interested in you, of course not… it's not like he was surprised when you told him your clothes were too tight and you hated your new body, not when he likes to see your new figure when you lie next to him at night, with enlarged breasts and a round belly. He bought you new clothes, yes, by the boatload, but because that's what any husband would do.

He only appreciates you for being the mother of his child, it's not like his heart fluttered when he saw you helping some melusines with their problems, or coddling some baby of your friends, thinking what a wonderful mother you will soon be. It's not like h chest filled with pride when he saw you in the stores looking for maternity books and baby clothes, worrying about the weather and your child's health.

And it's definitely not like he's masturbating in his office, remembering the image of you undressing that morning to get into the tub, cutting the skin of your arms and breasts, moaning at the contact of the warm water against your body, and letting out a sigh of deep satisfaction.

That night, he comes home with the usual everyday gift, this time a box of macaroons, because he noticed that you were looking at them in the display case with great eagerness during the afternoon. And he sits down at the table with you, pours you a cup of tea and starts the conversation, even though he notices that you are much more tired than usual.

He carries you into the bedroom and helps you into your nightgown, taking the opportunity to caress your waist and back as he helps the fabric slide over your curves. And then he strokes your head to help you fall asleep, and without realizing it, he smiles as he sees you fast asleep next to him.

The birth is approaching and the strong pains make you desperate, confined to your room and reluctant to go out even to sunbathe. It was the midwife who unscrupulously suggested to Neuvillette that a little sexual activity would help you get through the contractions. And he, as devoted to his wife's health as any good husband, agrees.

You feel Neuvillette's cock thrust deep into you, deep into your velvety walls, soft and slow, not unlike what you've felt before. His hands rest on the sides of your head, his gaze fixed on his cock disappearing inside you, while you curl your legs at the delicious sensation of his thick appendage inside your pussy. He moves cautiously, sharply, trying not to hurt you, and as he pumps inside you, his gaze is lost on your breasts, bouncing to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts.

"Perfect," he whispers through his teeth, because in his eyes you are the perfect reservoir for his brood, yes, just that… he insists that you are simply his good companion, and pretends that he hasn't wanted to have you like this for weeks, under him, a mess between moans pinned to him as you cling to his arms.

"Monsieur~" you whimper, bringing a hand to your face to cover your expression, though he takes your wrist and looks at your face as if you were a treasure just discovered by a hungry, ambitious man.

When you reach your orgasm, he kisses you, for the first time during sex, Neuvillette kisses you, and even he surprises himself with his own actions. He washes your body and dresses you before you rest, now much calmer than before, sinking into your husband's chest as you fall asleep, ignoring the feelings that surface between the two of you.

When the child is born, Neuvillette is surprised to continue his affection for you. He did not fall into the same materialism as before, because now he recognized in the shared work of the novices how difficult it was to take care of a baby. It is he who washes the child because, to your surprise, he knows the strange need for fresh water that your baby requires at least twice a day. Neuvillette enjoys the laughter that you get from your child, and the way that he lifts his arms so that you can hold him and show him how well you are feeding him, he looks strong and healthy.

One day, as he was leaving the Opera Epiclese, he was distracted by the statue of the Focalors, but his attention was immediately drawn to the babbling exclamations of his son, who was waving in your arms near the fountain. How gratifying is that moment when his heart leaps with joy as he sees you holding his child.

The days have been sunny in Fontaine since your son was born, and to Neuvillette's relief, the bitter memories of his separation from the Focalors are just that, memories… past images that he does not cherish, as he knows humans do, not now that his being is entirely devoted to his mate and his brood. What kind of elixir have you become for him, that he can forget all his sorrows and his past loves?

Neuvillette spends hours in his office poring over the pages of the book you gave him months ago, highlighting this thing called melancholy, the longing for past situations and desires, and feeling sorry for those who feel it, because if it were a disease, he would call himself cured of this melancholy.

He finds it curious how you managed to get rid of all the gloomy feelings that plagued him, and even wonders if you are not some kind of sorceress… No, not you, not when you so devotedly cleanse your child and offer him a carefully prepared dinner, and practically put your heart and soul into every act of domesticity.

Focalors… her name and image sail through the ancient memories of Neuvillette's tattered mind, the smile of a woman he loved, now replaced by that of the one who lies beside him, coddling a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked child. Funny how in such a short time he had acquired such human habits as feeling part of a family he hadn't even planned to have.

Your relationship with Neuvillette, full of respect and admiration, help and companionship, seems to evolve into something more. You become his confidant, his mentor when he has doubts about human children or about the customs between parents and children. Involuntarily, he comes to you when he has questions, not to a library, for despite your young mortal age, you know much more than books could ever give him.

You are patient with his ignorance and loving when he is wrong. Mutual and pure respect, absolute devotion and admiration. Neuvillette doesn't believe you are human, how can you be human with so many virtues… his curiosity grows and changes, so much so that he counts the hours in court to come home and chat with you while you nurse his child.

He returns home that night with new doubts, because he has seen strange devices for children without understanding their usefulness, called fun. Can they have fun by themselves? Aren't they too young for that?…oh, and he brings a storybook, because he understands that made-up stories are interesting for babies, even if they don't understand much of the language.

He goes to the baby's room with an enthusiasm he doesn't know he has, and stops at the door when he hears you soothing your baby's cry with sweet words.

"Hydro-Dragon, Hydro-Dragon, don't cry," you murmur as you caress your child's cheek and try to feed him.

Your child is frantically breastfeeding, his tears fading as he closes his bright purple eyes, his little hands clenched into fists and his nose twitching. Neuvillette watches the whole scene from the doorway, his heart in his throat and his feelings on his skin. Those words that broke his soul so long ago now seem to put the pieces of his shattered existence back together.

He smiles, a melancholy, self-satisfied smile. And he looks at you, he looks at you with devotion, because you have finally made him understand what he feels and has felt for so many months. His devoted wife, as patient as she is charming… seems wiser and more skillful than any scholar.

Leaving your child in its cradle, you straighten your neck and turn to Neuvillette, who has entered the room.

"What a beautiful book," you murmur, picking it up, "the baby will love it.

Neuvillette watches you with one hand on the crib that protects his baby, then watches his son sleep, wrinkling his nose the way you do when you sleep.

"You must be exhausted," he whispers, stroking your arm and leading you out of the baby's room.

"Not at all," you smile, "the child fills me with vitality."

"So… Hydro Dragon," Neuvillette recalls the words you said to his baby.

"I said it when I was a girl, like everyone else in Fontaine, it was an idea that came to me suddenly," you answer, and he smiles at your expression, thinking that maybe he heard you when you were a girl, maybe you were one of the many children who recited the same words when it rained in Fontaine.

"I have to tell you something," Neuvillette says, his voice lacking authority, more like a prayer. You watch him from the kitchen.

"'Tell me.

Focalors, Neuvillette, Furina, Fontaine's hydrodragon, the flood, his never-confessed love… he tells you everything because he understands that you deserve the truth, and that he doesn't deserve you because you're too understanding of his confession. It is as if this conversation has cleared up all your doubts, and you have finally seen the real Neuvillette, who fully trusts you to know what to do with this information.

Neuvillette believes that you will ask him for a divorce and leave him alone with his son, but he is surprised to find you preparing breakfast the next morning with your child tied to your leg while you both laugh.

He does not deserve you, definitely not, for he is perhaps the most despicable man in Fontaine and all of Teyvat. To think of another while he is married, to take his wife with him in a grief that is not hers, to bind her to him forever by impregnating her… how mean he must have been, and how understanding you become as his selfishness grows.

He hugs you from behind, buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent and clings to your waist. He begs for forgiveness countless times, and you feel that he may have already shed a few tears on your shoulder, because the sky suddenly begins to cloud over.

"There's nothing to forgive," you whisper, stroking his head, "we can't choose who we fall in love with."

He looks at you in disbelief, wondering in what book he would find such an accurate statement. You had fallen in love with him, and he finally understands, for you are both victims of the disorderly course of love, so messy in its actions, indifferent to those it hurts.

He thinks about your words as he sits in his office, as he looks at the framed photograph he has of you holding his son, and wonders when he fell into the trap of the reckless love that humans call it.

The name of the Focalors does not mean anything to him anymore, even less when he sees Lady Furina in boutiques or restaurants… surely a memory has finally become just that, a memory. His heart is now the prey of another person, his wife, the mother of his son.

Neuvillette understands that there is a difference between soul mates, first love, and true love. The connection with Focalors had been imminent years ago, as both were unaware of the actions of the society in which they had become intruders, but they were nothing more than that, accomplices in a game of masks and power, the first experience of mutual affection and trust. Focalors was his soulmate, yes, because she understood firsthand everything he experienced, but being a living part of her theater did not feel authentic.

With you, however, Neuvillette had learned to be a part of his people, whether as a human or a dragon, as Chief Justice or as the father of an infant. He was no longer an intruder or a stranger ignorant of human ways, not after you. At your side, Neuvillette had known a new range of sensations, of experiences and learning based on mistakes, all very human on his part, and as expected, he had learned to fall in love again, because it was inevitable, after several problems and misunderstandings between the two of you, after the birth of his son and the new horizons that fatherhood brought. His affection for you had been disguised as admiration and redemption, his ignorance had once again avoided love, a mistake he wanted to make up for.

Sitting in your living room while he reads a book and you braid his hair and hum a lullaby, Neuvillette lets the waves of your voice carry him away, wondering what kind of marital experiences he had missed with you.

"What kind of things do husbands do?" He asks suddenly, looking up at you from the carpeted floor, surprising you with his curious question.

"Well…" you think, it's not like when he asks you why kids suck their thumbs or why people give each other presents on non-holidays. It's not a question about trivial human behavior, not this time.

"I've seen couples go out to dinner, but you told me that friends also go out to dinner," he continues, elaborating on his puzzle. "Wriothesley and I have had tea together, what would be the difference between having tea with him and with you?"

"Well…" you continue to think about your answer. "Perhaps the most obvious is living together, planning the week together, household and food expenses, child care, and confidentiality between the two. When you and I have tea, we talk about things that you probably don't mention to Wriothesley".

" Certainly," he says with a hand on his chin, "you and I do all those things, but how is that different from students who share a house? They also plan expenses and discuss confidences."

"Then I guess the biggest difference is in starting a family. Normally, people get married because they want to have a family with the person they choose, the person they love, or the person their parents impose on them."

"So sex is what differentiates married people," he says, and you remain static at his words, stopping to braid his hair, "of course… the physical and emotional affection shown by both parties in marriage…" Neuvillette rambles on, his own conclusion as he sits on the couch next to you, thinking about how he hasn't shown his affection the way he should.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, you are distracted by the details of your skirt, picking out rebellious threads, and then he thinks about the last time he kissed you and wonders what it would be like to kiss someone with marital affection.

"Can I kiss you?" The question is thrown out with innocence, causing surprise in you.

"You've kissed me before, Neuvillette," you say, smiling and getting up to go into the kitchen, "we even have a son, I don't think there's anything new to try."

"Indeed," he says, getting up and walking toward you, your back against one of the walls, "but the variable that makes this situation different from the others is that I didn't feel that way about you."

"Like what?" you ask, as he moves closer to you, almost cornering you against the wall.

"I like thinking about you, being with you, hearing you talk," he says, his tone low, as if he were ashamed to confess everything to you. "I thought it was a simple instinct to care for you as the mother of my child… but now I know it's something deeper than that."

You look at him in surprise, now it is you who has unknowns that only he can answer. The silence between you is cold and almost tactile.

"What about her? Of the Archon," you whisper, your breath depending on the question, Neuvillette's forehead inches from yours.

"It's not the same. There is no excitement or desire. I never longed for her or desired her like you. She didn't provoke me the way you did, it's almost annoying."

"Am I annoying? "Is that what she's telling me, Judge?" You smile as you touch the tip of his nose, trying to take some of the seriousness out of the conversation.

"You are adorably hypnotic, I must say. More than you should be. You have taken everything from me without me even realizing it, subtly and carefully taking over my mind and my heart," Neuvillette's hands caress your cheek, high above your skin, avoiding friction as if his touch would bruise your flawless complexion.

"Let me show you these human feelings that have taken over me, please," he whispers, his thumb sliding over your lower lip. He says it almost like a complaint, his bursting emotions becoming painful, trapped in his chest, longing for you to give him comfort and permission to act.

"I'll let you… only if you promise me something," you say, taking his hand, avoiding the marks of his fingers on you. "You will never push me aside for another woman again…"

His oath needs no words, not when he has you leaning against the kitchen table, his cock pushing behind you to your cervix. Your muffled moans as he adjusts your skirt over your waist and spreads your legs further to give him free access to your pussy, which sucks him contemptuously.

Neuvillette feels like a fantasy, thrusting relentlessly into you, touching the bulge that has formed in your belly from the penetration of his cock, pushing with his hand so you can feel it better, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. . He kisses your cheek and you hear his muffled moans against your ear as he utters words of worship.

You grip the marble edge of the table, moaning at the burning building in your belly, your eyes glassy and spit falling from your mouth. It's as if your legs were lifeless, as if you were prey to Neuvillette and the way he drives his love for you so deep that it seems to stir your womb.

That afternoon he takes you in the kitchen, and the next morning he doesn't let you get out of bed, one hand on the headboard and the other around your waist, Neuvillette has you with your ass up like a dog in heat, hitting your slippery with his length. The strength that his support gives you is hard to bear, your breasts trembling strongly as your ass bounces to his rhythm, your skin moving like waves in the sea with each vibration that Neuvillette's relentless interference causes.

His hand slides down your body, caressing your breasts and down to your clit, your face buried in the pillows, almost crying at how good his fingers feel on your nervous lump. He fills you with his seed when he reaches orgasm, because he is dying to see you again with your belly swollen for his offspring. And he kisses you again, he kisses your forehead while you catch your breath, while you cover your body that has been bruised by his fingers, defining the lustful path of his digits over your body.

In his office, he remembers the past hours with fanciful lust and longs to return home to enjoy this new activity that you have made him experience, this new addiction that your body represents against his. He longs for your company and your warmth, your voice moaning with pleasure and the way your nails dig into his back. He adores everything about you, not only because you are the mother of his child, but because he finally understands, after several months of reading and reflection, that he has truly fallen in love with you, his precious human wife.

[amethystfairy1]

Regarding the Iskall Situation...

I've received a lot of asks wondering about what my take is on it, and since I'd prefer to have it all taken care of in one swoop so we don't have to continue to focus on it, here's my stance on the subject.

A: Yes, I have seen the credible evidence from Kasszki, I read the doc they posted, and I feel awful for them and the other victims that they had to deal with this. I'm glad to hear that the Hermits and others were supportive of them and helped them handle this situation in as professional a manner as possible. I have also seen the credible information from False that Stress left for her own separate reasons.

B: I strongly denounce Iskall's behavior, and I have absolutely zero intention of supporting him as a creator ever again.

C: Please don't pester the creators or the victims. I said it in my initial response to this situation before we knew what had happened, but my opinion remains the same here. Any information we get from the Hermits is a privilege, not a right. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms are well known for being healthy, good spaces, and I'm proud to be a member of this community. Now our money is where our mouths are. Please don't feed into the rumor mill, please continue to support the Hermits as you always would and don't pry or demand more details from them. This is a very difficult situation for all of us, and I'm certain it's even worse for all of them. Please keep in mind the Hermits are all grown adults, many of them had professional careers before they joined Hermitcraft, and they are handling this in as professional a manner as they are able. I applaud them for that. As their fans, we need to do the same.

What are my plans for Iskall and Stress in TTSBC?

Understandably, I've received several asks about what I plan to do about Iskall and Stress's characters in TTSBC. I've answered them individually, but I just want to put this here as a one-stop spot for what my stance is so it's clear.

I've always been a 'character not content creator' author. My characters are just that, characters. Does that mean I can completely remove them from the creators upon which they are based? No, of course not. That's not how this works, either. So here's my plan moving forward.

The two stories that heavily feature Iskall in TTSBC, "Run with It' and "Carry me Home Tonight" will remain up. They are timestamped with their dates of posting which was long before any of this came out, and again, they are very clearly meant to be characters, not the creators.

Iskall will be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki, and I will not be writing any new content for his character.

Does that affect the plot of TTSBC? Yes, it does. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't, and those of you who have followed the series at length can likely see where the issues arise...but I'm an author, and I can pivot. I also have an awesome little team behind me of @silver-sunray, @boo-the-ahh, and @khoirkid who are helping me to make sure TTSBC carries on smoothly despite this unforeseen struggle.

Stress will not be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki. As I mentioned in an ask earlier, her role in the story is very minor, and I hadn't planned for her to have any other pieces to herself outside of Hermit-a-Day May anyway...so aside from specific instances where it might be necessary to mention her, she will not be making any more major appearances. This is mainly because I'm a Hermit/Traffic/Empires writer, and I plan to stick to that notion unless future events cause me to pivot otherwise.

Lastly, I would appreciate if we could avoid anymore asks about the situation. If there are any further updates I'm sure I'll find that out on my own, I'm very active in this fandom and I see things pretty quickly when they spread, so if any new things related to this situation spring up, while I greatly appreciate your concern for me and my work, please don't send it to my inbox or in DM.

I'm very saddened by this, as I'm sure many of you are. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms have been my safe space for many years, through some of the hardest moments of my life, and with the mess that MCYT has proven itself to be at times, it felt like we were untouchable here. But like Doc said, the Hermits are good, and they are strong. And as their fans and supporters, we need to be the same.

Be good, be strong, and let's make sure our lovely community continues to be the positive space it always has been.

-Amethyst

[dark-dragon-8]

In case you guys couldn't tell, Dick Grayson, AKA Nightwing, is my favorite DC character. Specifically because I can just write/imagine him however way I want, within the realm of (fanon) reason, and someone will agree with me/there's already a fic about it.

Want to read about a murderous character? Nightwing has once killed the Joker and (as far as I know) didn't regret it. Not to mention Renegade also exists (along with former Talon AU, secret/resolved "killer" AU, where he kills but doesn't tell anyone, and more minor ones as well) and there are several fics where he takes on that alias in order to deal with some "unfinished business" regarding his family.

Want to read about an undercover character using their looks and flirting to their benefits (and having the attention of everyone at the bar by simply existing and being hot)? I have read so many undercover Dick Grayson that wore the sluttiest outfits just to get info. Even read a few where he did it to make his siblings (mainly Jason) more comfortable since they weren't comfortable with it yet that was his forte (regardless of whether or not he liked doing that as well).

Looking for a rich (kinda spoiled, an act, but still lovable and amazing) Nepo baby that everyone thirsts over in the gala? Richie Wayne is right there and is the eldest Wayne/heir, that's bound to cause some drama at parties/Galas (esp with protective Batfam) and I love that (please give me more fics like that, I can barely find any).

Want a badass vigilante that can beat the absolute life out of criminals and defeat Batman with relative ease? Nightwing is one of the strongest members of the Batfam, if I remember correctly he even defeated Cassandra/an opponent equal to Cassandra before.

Want to read an angst filled story about a character that feels like they're being objectified all the time and just wants a break? Do I even have to say it?

Want a character study about how the annoyed/stubborn/exhausted guy from the comics turned into an "attention whore" on fics? I remember reading (and even writing) character studies where Dick is suffering from stuff such as hypersexuality and anxiety issues where he needs people to see/notice/pay attention to him as a result of his sexual trauma (the assault & other stuff he went through).

And so much more. The duality of that man, when a character has such a variety of interpretations and ways to write about them it just fills that writer/storyteller/reader in me with joy. That complex potential that I seek in characters, like being able to kill someone while also being a hero loved by the hero community, a celebrity loved by the world and a few beyond it, a spoiled rich kid when he likes to indulge himself and a victim that has suffered through so much, it's natural to give them different ways (separation anxiety, exhibitionism, aversion to touch, etc) to cope and deal with the horrible hand that was given to them. It's just something that is very rare to come across in a character, especially one so well known and loved for all of those different things rather than only one or two of them taking over the entire character and its interpretation, and I really love Nightwing for being that character for both writers and readers looking for somethings and finding all they could ask for and more in just a singular tag (ofc I know the other characters have a variety as well, Dick just has such a big variety and his "spectrum" is so big, vast and versatile, he has a piece of the fandom for everything, like a bunch of different characters smacked into one, all sharing the same name, it's why I chose him specifically and why I love reading about him the most specifically).