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vqlluna · 1 year ago

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CLOSURE ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

summary: it's been years since you confessed your love to Remus, and he couldn't reciprocate it. It's been years since your days at Hogwarts ended, and you're now recouped back with your schoolmates for a holiday party. What could go wrong?

pairings: f!reader x remus lupin, angst, fluff,

a/n: ngl this is partly based on the beginning of my parent's little love story, and of course, this is based on closure by taylor swift (and basically the whole evermore album)

❝ IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, and seeing the shape of your name just spells out pain. It wasn't right the way it all went down, looks like you know that now... ❞

You quickly ran down the stairs of your apartment, trying your best to fit the silver hoop through your ear without harming yourself. You tripped your way into your incredibly small kitchen, shuffling at the island counter, which only was filled with months-old letters, bills, and notices, trying your best to find a specific invitation.

Mary Macdonald had been your best schoolmate during your years at Hogwarts, and despite, by now a few years, of barely speaking to her or anyone in her crowd, she'd been so kind as to invite you to a wonderfully large and fancy Christmas Party.

And it was for this very reason as to why you stood in your most expensive dress, dug out from the back of your closet. You wiped your sweaty hands on the velvet fabric before delving back into the mountain of parchment searching for the envelope that held every single piece of information you neglected to put to memory that would get you into that party.

You were desperate to spend your Holidays not stuck in your parent's home for once. But it was only once you accidentally stumbled into a large stack as every single piece of paper collapsed on the floor, that you realized who might actually be there. You carefully picked up small clumps, replacing them back on the counter as you eyed the very last one.

It was quite dusty with small water stains sprinkled and it was extremely crumpled. Your jaw clenched as you picked it up and placed it at the edge of the counter. You inhaled a large breath before snapping your head in a different direction as you finally saw the invitation in your peripheral.

You ran to your living area grabbed your purse and ran back as you gripped the envelope. As expected, you've managed to make yourself late. You waddled on over in your heels to the small entranceway and picked up your coat and wand from the coat rack.

Maybe in a moment of weakness or a flood of memories, you looked back to the dirty crinkled piece of parchment in your kitchen. It was a big party, there would barely be any chance you'd see him, you assured yourself. And in fact even if you do, you can do you best to avoid him, you planned.

You shook your head and stepped back towards the island. Gripping the envelope tightly you shoved it into the pocket of your coat.

But if by any chance you ended up speaking with him tonight, you'd surely give it back, you couldn't possibly bear the weight of that note anymore, and you surely had no use for it now.

Taking a deep sigh you adjusted the collar of your jacket, patting now your hair in the mirror before exiting your old townhome. You locked the door behind you and shoved your hands into your pockets. You squeezed the envelope inside it almost in comfort before you apparated yourself away.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know ya', right to the bone... ❞

After you found yourself apparated to an area which you knew was near your designation you crunched the snow beneath your heels as you walked, almost aimlessly, to the party. Upon seeing the large estate you felt wildly unprepared and under-dressed. Least to say it was a luxurious event.

You stumbled up the steps, nervously searching through the vast halls, filled with fishes of people, to find a pair of, wanted, familiar eyes. You found yourself in the gigantic main room, as witches and wizards conversed among themselves, grabbing the treats and drinks off the trays of staff.

You were stopped as one of the waiters offered you a truffle, interested in the beautiful dessert you picked it up and turned around as you shoved it in your face, only to accidentally bump into another figure. The woman you'd crashed into turned around, their bright red hair flashing your eyes. As you got a good look at the person your face fell.

"Oh my—Merlin! y/n is that you?" she excitedly asked, disregarding your muttered apology and quickness in trying to whip back around. You cringed and turned back around on your heel giving a fake smile.

"Lily—my Godric, hi," you breathed.

Lily slowly parted from her current conversation to partake in one with you. "Well I haven't seen you in forever! Where are you, what do you do now?" she questioned.

You wiped your sweaty palms once again on the fabric of your dress, "I, uhm, I live in Chudley now," you chuckled nervously "I'm an artist, a painter actually."

The red-headed girl looked at you in such awe, and you were certainly in disbelief as to why. "Wow y/n, have you sold much? Featured in a gallery ever?" she was completely interested. It was then that you remembered that she was always like this, but it'd been so long that you'd forgotten what it was like to have someone engaged in what you had to say.

Your smile finally picked up a bit, "Yes, actually, got my first gallery showing about a week ago, it's still up for a couple of months! But uh, regarding sales, it's enough to keep the lights on, y'know?"

"Well I think it's absolutely lovely that you're working your dream, that's really great," Lily appreciated, "I'm assuming you're trying to find Mary, come along this way, she with the rest of them!" she waved on, but your feet were planted in the ground.

You gulped down the last tiny bit of your truffle, you eyebrows knitted together as you stuttered, "The—the uhm, the rest of them?"

Lily's excitement softened at your mutters, "Oh you're still—" she said slightly surprised but she cut herself off in fear of saying something offensive, "He hasn't arrived yet," she assured, then lowering her voice in a whisper, "We're not sure if he's coming, it's around that time."

You grew a small frown, "Ah," you hummed, "He uh, well," you dug out the letter from your pocket, waving it in front of Lily as she read the senders name printed in the corner. Her lips pressed together as she nodded, giving you relief as she disregarded it and intended to act like she didn't see the letter, nor knew anything of the situation guiding you through the nets of attendees.

You took a large breath of bravery through your nose as you slowly approached the circle of very familiar faces. You first caught Marlene Mckinnon's attention, catching you in her view her eyebrows lifted as her mouth formed a small O.

Following her gaze, Sirius finally saw you, his eyes widened in utter shock as he absentmindedly nudged James beside him. Looking at the disturbance James' cheeks puffed up with air before exhaling it out. Dorcas, who stood at the other end beside Marlene watched the scene and you could see her mouth the word "shit," at everyone's upset.

How were you to approach a group of old friends who now semi-hated you but yet felt incredibly sorry for you? Instead of stressing over the others, you focussed on how Mary squealed with joy upon seeing you. She slightly waddled a run in her heels over to you as she embraced you warmly. "You came!"

You scrunched your face with a grin as you pulled back, "Of course, Mary! Needed to get out of the house anyways," you smiled, she put you at ease even while Marlene looked at you so skeptically and as James and Sirius exchanged glasses before downing the rest their glasses of champagne in their hands.

"Well if it isn't y/n y/l," Marlene smirked, it completely confused you because while the rest of her face seemed elated to see you, her eyes seemed to almost be throwing daggers at you. The rest of the women quickly warmed up to you as you entered the conversation, though James and Sirius kept almost unnervingly quiet. Above all, you noticed the absence of Peter and him.

Finally, the conversation began to smooth, the group being able to get quite a few good hearty laughs from you. Though the ends of your Hogwarts days were a touchy subject that everyone mindlessly agreed not to talk about, you all got caught up in reminiscing on events previous to it.

But it soon came to a close as Peter ran up, "I've got a surprise f'you all!" he exclaimed gripping the back of James' shoulder as he squeezed himself between the pair of men before he looked across the circle to you. He opened his mouth to say something before tightly shutting it closed.

Behind him followed another man. He was tall, dressed his best scraggly black coat, a white undershirt, and black slacks all tied together with a matching black tie. His ruffly brown hair didn't match his attire, and neither did the deep scars that lined his face, some old but some fresh and new, but either way he was undeniably beautiful.

He slowed to a stop in the small opening between Peter and Sirius as his half-lidded eyes and warm smile turned into repetitive blinking of disbelief and lips in awe.

And for a moment, the rapid growing beat of your heart, as you saw his figure coming, came to a complete stop.

And everything was deadly silent.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure... ❞

The group stood still and quiet for seconds as their eyes flickered between the two of you, itching to see the reactions. The awkwardness between everything grew to a hot before Sirius shut it down, to the relief of everyone except you.

"So who needs a drink?" he asked, and like a pounce of a tiger, everyone utters their Yups and Yes's and Count Me In's, scurrying away quickly. Mary was the last to leave, fighting with herself in her head if it was better to let you deal with it for once or keep you safe from this horror you desperately tried to stay away from.

You dipped your head down staring at your shoes trying to avoid his eyes. It was only when he cleared his throat that you snapped ur attention back up to him. "Remus," you greeted quickly with his name, flashing a fake, uncomfortable smile.

He grazed your figure with his eyes for a beat before he muttered your name, "y/n."

The air felt cold and thick against your exposed skin, your necklace and dress growing tight on your skin from hearing your name from his lips again. "How are you—"

"Cut it with the niceties Moo—Lupin," you stopped him, "You can have your letter back," you growled digging the letter back out of your pocket and shoving it in his hand, "I've gotten all of them, but this one... you need to take this one back. I don't want it," you gritted.

"Y/n, I just. You wouldn't talk to me, I needed you to know—" Remus changed, not wanting your disacceptence.

"So filling my mail with your stupid words would get us through to each other? You did all this to yourself."

"I didn't know you had—Look I'm sorry but I was scared—"

You scoffed and laughed in his face adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder, "I'm not doing this with you right now, here, after all this time. I'll send the rest of your letters over another day, K?" you ended turning around walking out of the grand room and through the halls.

Remus' heart clenched in love of hearing your laugh but hated the circumstances it was under, begging for this conversation, to clear up every single miscommunication and wrong step, he followed you out.

You crossed by the open bar finding Mary and everyone else downing drinks. You took her hands into your own, "Thanks for inviting me Mary, truly, but I best get going now," you thanked quickly, ignoring Remus behind you with his open mouth with empty words. He only flicked his eyes to the group for a fraction of a second before landing back to you, still closely following you out as you grabbed your coat at the door and exited the mansion.

❝ Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I'm fine with my spite, and my tears, and my beers, and my candles. I can feel you smoothing me over... ❞

You were halfway across the large courtyard as Remus scurried down the steps, "I loved you!" he exclaimed. You froze and a sharp breath filled your lungs as you whipped around, and you let yourself fully remember what happened for once.

It was the start of your seventh year at Hogwarts. Everyone knew something was brewing between you and Remus. The strong tension, the back-and-forth banters, subtle compliments, and executing favors with no question.

It felt like a silent agreement between you two as the flirtations grew more obvious. Every sight of him caught you winded, and every touch had you melt to the floor, when he finally kissed you, you couldn't help but feel yourself explode with your own personal fireworks. Until he pulled away.

Rumors that he started talking to someone new shattered you. Soon your heartbreak filled with rage, he'd lead you on only to crush you and leave you stranded. And where once, he helped you captain your ship, you soon found him drowned away as you frantically steered yourself into an iceberg.

Your anger so strong you couldn't even look at him, and so you left anything related to him altogether.

Because you thought you had something, only to be made to feel like you meant nothing. Your graduation day only led to more despair as Remus sought you out once again, with the courage to confess. You shut him down and locked him out. It was the loudest and yet most silent, lonely, train ride home.

You blinked back to the present, Remus and you still in the exact moment and positions. Your jaw clenched as his next words came out so softly, so slowly, like a whisper only you could hear across the courtyard. "I still love you."

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know you right to the bone. Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure. Your closure, your closure, your closure...❞

The fire in your stomach was lit again, "Don't. Moony, just don't. What was that letter? Huh?" you begged, "'I'm letting you go. I hope you're life is swell'? What was that bloody shit? Because it sure seemed to me like a let's-catch-up-like-good-old-friends type of letter! Not a I've-loved-you-after-all-these-years!" you shouted angrily stomping your way up to him.

"You didn't even try! In any of your letters! All you do is act like it's fine or give empty apologies. So please, explain now, give me a real reason for everything, but don't give me this shit."

He stared at you in worry as your bottom lip quivered, eyes glazed in gloss. "I was trying to stop loving you."

You sobbed a wolfish laugh, "Bull. Shit." you said, pushing his chest away, "You knew I was interested! You knew! So don't give me that absolute fuckery because it makes no sense!"

"I couldn't burden you with—everything—all my...problems," he whimpered, "You needed, you need someone stable. You need someone who can give you a home and family like you wanted."

You parted you lips at his confessions of insecurties, "Remus, I'm a full time artist, barely making it to keep my water on—" you tried explaining back to him.

"I saw your gallery, you know! You need someone who's going to help you show off more of your talent, not hold you back! So why haven't you found someone yet? Stop sitting around hung up on me—" he rambled on, getting angier as you tried driving him away, but bits of every sentence he said added fuel to your burning fire.

"I am not hung up on you!" you exclaimed.

"So why are you here begging me for reasons why I didn't want to be with you? Why do you have to freeze every damn time you look at me, and for Merlin's sake, why've you kept all my letters?"

Your face blackened while you glared into his eyes. And while your fear of confrontation was afraid of confronting what went down, it was the fear of confronting what still lingered. You still loved him. That's what you wrote in the only letter you ever wrote back, the letter you never sent.

And maybe that's why his letters stopped coming. When he was finally ready to let go and take his risks to have you, you neglected to accept his grasp.

❝I know I'm just a wrinkle in your past life. Staying friends would iron it out so nice. Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me. But it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary...❞

You didn't know why you did it, well you knew why you did it, but you didn't know what came of you. Because instead of pushing him away, you gripped tightly onto the collar of his white shirt, dragging and pulling him to you as you crashed your lips onto his.

And when he, very quickly, kissed you back, your hands skidded up grasping the sides of his face, his own hands pressing your back closer into him. Your lips toppled over each other fueled with passion, craning his neck down just to feel more of you.

You didn't mind that the chilly air froze your cheeks because when the snow came falling you knew it was for the two of you, hoping that it'd freeze you in this moment. You panted lightly through your nose as Remus finally pulled back from you, dashing his eyes all across your face trying to read you.

"Because I don't want you to let go, Remus," you whispered your answer back, Remus shaking his head sofly and rapidly in assurance of your words, "I'm fine with your problems, I'm fine if you can't give me a family, I'm fine if you can't give me a steady life." you scrambled tripping over your own words.

After avoiding his gaze you finally let his chases of finding your eyes catch up with you. "I don't want just a life, Rem. I wanted a life with you. You can't just try to let go of me, can't just stop loving me because you're scared of that," you scolded, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"You need to let yourself love someone, you've— you need to give me a chance so I can love you." you pressed. Your stomach fluttered as he gave you a soft kiss as your lips once more, and this time when he pulled back he kept his eyes on yours, not letting you look away. You didn't want to look away, you were hanging on waiting for him to say something, anything.

"I will."

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harrowharkwife · 1 year ago

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Nona didn't get all the dogs she wanted at her birthday party- not the brown one by the fish shop, or Stop It (name presumed) who lies underneath the counter at the dairy. She didn't get a chance to invite the white-and-black one she saw one time at the park, or the spotted beach dog.

But Noodle was in the back, and that was its own kind of miracle.

She didn't get to have any of the gang at her birthday party, either- not Hot Sauce, or Honesty, or Born in the Morning, or Beautiful Ruby. Not even Kevin.

But Hot Sauce did let her back in the gang, even knowing that she's a zombie. And that's not nothing.

Everyone from Blood of Eden was able to make it, though! Crown Him with Many Crowns was there, and Cell Commander We Suffer and We Suffer- even Captain Deuteros was able to make it, technically, and Camilla said that wasn't even possible. (Take that, Cam.) She may have spent most of the party seizing in the back of the truck, but she still showed up. Captain Judith Deuteros would never dream of doing something so impolite and improper as declining a formal birthday invitation.

The Angel made it, too.

The last thing on Nona's list (as transcribed by C. Hect) was "And you three." (Good to know. —C.)

She didn't get all three of them, in the end, exactly. But Pyrrha and Paul were there to give her her birthday presents. Or tell her what they were, at least. (It's the thought that counts, Pyrrha.)

Planet Earth didn't get everything she wanted for her birthday. It wasn't at the beach, for starters, but there was Ninth House grave dirt for sand, and a saltwater moat for an ocean, and a ceiling full of glow-worms for stars. But she got presents- a fancy handkerchief, and a shirt with a sex joke on it, and she loved them both very much.

And almost all her favorite people were able to make it.

#starting the new year off by feeling some absolutely Violent emotions about new rho. on brand as always #the locked tomb #nona #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year ago

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

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

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o #next part is gonna be oohoohoo!

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thewritersofdeceased · 6 months ago

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Ghost boys reacting to their crush being asked out in front of them? Like would they be salty or lash out. Idk I just think it's a fun idea ^^

ANGST WOOOOO !! (angst for at least two of them) The Ghost Boys + Finney seeing their crush being asked out in front of them! These are sorta short because I had no motivation to get these out for months ":)

Gender Neutral pronouns ! (They/Them), no use of y/n!

FINNEY BLAKE

Finney felt his heart shatter as a boy stood with flowers in hand, a small frown plastered on his face as you and this boy stood in front of your locker. You two were smiling. You were smiling at this boy and not at him? He thought you two would have been together. Guess not. Finney didn't say anything, just acted like he was grabbing stuff out of his locker. But those eight words he overheard felt like a harpoon had just gone through his chest.

"Do you want to go out with me?" The boy asked, and Finney could hear your soft laughter. That soft laughter that made him fall in love with you. The laughter that made him always smile. But he couldn't say anything now. Not when the person of his dreams was being asked out. He let a frown form on his face, closing his locker and letting out a grumble. A grumble of inaudible mutters. He'd talk to Robin or Gwen about this.

And so when closing his locker and overhearing the answer you'd given the boy, Finney turned to walk off. Ignoring the laughs he could overhear, he began making his way away from his locker and surely away from you. He couldn't stand this. The boy had to move on, but he knew damn well it would take a while to do that.

BRUCE YAMADA

To say Bruce was surprised when he overheard someone asking you out was an understatement. He knew plenty of people, girls mostly, were lined up trying to date him, but for the longest time, he only had his eyes on one person. You. You were the only person Bruce had his eyes on. He wasn't going to go all fancy, buying flowers and everything, but he was going to be all casual about it. As you if you'd like to go to the arcade or something, go for a walk around town and all of that.

But when he went to try, someone else had gone up to you, holding flowers and chocolate in their hands. Bruce didn't understand. Sure, this kid was popular too, but not in the sense Bruce was. He just didn't understand. His mind processed the scene he watched, his expression blank and eyes slightly narrowing. At least he tried.

Even if his heart ached. His chest ached. He had to move on. No matter how hard it hurt, Bruce Yamada had to move on. As people say. There's other fish in the seas. At least in ones far away from Denver.

ROBIN ARELLANO

Robin knew he didn't have a chance. From the get go, he knew he didnt' have a chance. He was popular, and sure, some girls wanted him and what-not, but he denied them every single time. They only wanted him because he could fight. Not for his personality, and surely just for his looks. But he didn't have his eyes on any of them.

Not any of them had his attention. He was watching over you as you spoke with a group of your friends, one of them gently taking your arm and pulling you away from everyone in the main circle. Which only resulted in him following from afar. Listening and watching from a distance. He couldn't exactly make out what was being said, but he could see the large smile that had formed on your face, and the excited "Yes, yes!" That escaped you.

It only made Robin's mind begin to run. Robin wasn't dumb. It only made him realize what the kid had asked. The kid asked you out. And Robin had to get over you. Of course he did. He just had to get over you. It'd be difficult, but he had to. He'd move on quickly. He knew he could.

VANCE HOPPER

When it came to asking people out, Vance hated doing it. Vance despises asking people out, which is why he never did it. He saw what relationships did to his mom and dad. He saw how it ruined them. But you were different. You had a smile that lit up the world, and he loved that about you. But asking you out was something that would ruin everything. Vance was going to ask you out in a casual manner. Sure, he'd buy you a slushee from the grab n' go and make a flirty joke or whatever, but it was better than going full out with flowers, chocolate and a stupid date.

As he went to speak to you, his eyes landed on a boy with his arm wrapped around your waist, so he only stood with violence plastered in his eyes. He wanted to swing. So badly. He wanted to start a fight. To get your attention. But that would hate to scare you. He would never have a chance if he scared you off and away. That would shatter him beyond recognition. But Vance stood tall as he kept his attention on you and this boy.

As the answer of yes popped up, Vance scoffed and turned on his heel, his knuckles turning white. He'd go get into a fight. Fight his anger out like he usually could. He'd avoid you and your new boyfriend. Until you two broke up, or the bastard did something wrong to you. Then he'd fight and confront.

BILLY SHOWALTER

Billy was beyond excited to show you these hand made paper flowers! He was going to use them to confess his feelings, of course. He wasn't one to really talk aloud, being more on the quiet side of the school and sticking to hanging around his group of friends. Not many people spoke to the tiny group but you and a couple others that wanted to try and befriend Robin or Bruce for example. Or Vance- that was another. Vance was more of one to confront or help Billy out if he was having a bad day.

So when he saw a boy smiling brightly at you with flowers in his hand, his heart began to shatter as he listened in. "Would you like to go on a date? We can have a picnic and then get some ice cream?" The boy suggested as an excited "Yes!" escaped you, it made Billy's eyes widen and begin to tear up. He stared in disbelief, his heart shattered into a thousand people.

He stared still, dropping his paper flowers onto the ground and allowing the wind to pick them up. He'd just stay away. Yeah! Yeah, that would work. It'd was better than anything. Better than staying here and letting his emotions get the better of him. That would be better than this. He'd talk to Vance. Or Griffin. Or anyone about this.

GRIFFIN STAGG

Griffin was terrified to ever ask somebody out. Like Vance, he saw what it did to his parents. Hell, he didn’t get to see his mother because of it. That was a whole story in itself. He was pacing nervously, looking at the paper he held in between his hands. Well, in one hand. He had a singular rose in his right hand, in his left behind a small paper with words to say.

Naturally, Griffin was selective mute, only speaking properly to the boys he hung around or you. Mostly you. He would smile, ramble about books he read to you, suggest some too! So, the best suggestion he had was to get a couple romantic lines from books and make references to them in his little confession note!

His eyes had lit up when he saw you. You were waving to someone. Not him. A boy, maybe a year older than him had run over, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek as Griffin watched. He stared as tears began to flood his eyes. He had to walk by you to go home. So he did just that. Not before pressing the paper and flower into your hand.

#vance hopper x reader #the black phone x reader #bruce yamada x reader #griffin stagg #billy showalter x reader #finney blake x reader #robin arellano x reader #billy showalter

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the-curious-butterfly · 2 months ago

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Merry UnBirthday to You.

My Dearest Daughter,

I am sending you this letter for it has been too long since I saw you last. Yes, I know you'll groan out how it's only been two months, but time moves rather quickly for an old Queen. Literally, I had to run just to keep up with him, perhaps I should stop going to his castle and have him come to mine if it's really so important. He has been going on and on about something rather odd concerning cupcakes and paradoxes lately, but I digress. The matters of Time are not for the concerns of youth.

What is of concern however is your birthday coming up next week. Oh, I've just been so excited I already had the frog and fish butlers start planning it despite not knowing if you'll even be able to attend. I do hope you can and will, you can even bring that little friend with you, the one you fancy so much. Chloe Charming. You know, Ella really knew what she was doing when she raised that girl, lives up to her name in every way. Unlike Charming himself, no matter what Ella claims he was all face, personality speaking he was a mess. I was definitely the better choice.

Ahem, I probably shouldn't have said that. Wait, oh quill, please don't write that either. Drat, I really should get into the habit of writing my own letters instead of dictating them out to stationary. You know how feathers are, no mind for things that really should be omitted. As straightforward and as honest as an ostrich. Please do not show this letter to Chloe, I would hate for her to know what I think of her father. He really was good to Ella.

Anyway, I'd love to hear back from you soon, with confirmation that you and the young Charming will indeed be capable of attending. Oh, it's going to be so much fun, and don't worry. I'll have something special planned for the two of you. You can always count on your mum.

With warm regards,

Bridget of Hearts

The proudest mum in the world to have you as a daught-

Wait, no no no you don't have to write that last par

Long after they finished reading it Red and Chloe, whose head was on her shoulder, could only stare at the letter in Red's hands. It was certainly a letter to say the least. Though what had both of them glued to its contents were vastly different things. For Chloe, it was the confirmation of seeing that Bridget did indeed once have a crush on her mother (perhaps still did) and harbored a mini grudge on her father for being the one she chose instead. Couldn't blame the Queen of Hearts for that though, her mother was a catch and deserved only the best. Even if her younger self was a little difficult to be around sometimes.

For Red it was learning the fact that she has a birthday now. Something she never had before since her mother from her original timeline outlawed them long before she was born. Though the letter didn't specify the day apparently it's in October, and also she's getting a party.

A party just to celebrate her existence. Something other children in other places got but she could only ever dream to have.

...

"Wow, I didn't know your birthday was so soon."

"I didn't either." There wasn't really much else to say but the truth, though if Chloe understood the nuance she didn't bring attention to it. "Should we ask Principal Uma for permission to leave?"

Red nods then shakes her head, finally folding up the letter but still holding onto it. "I don't know."

Which is fair so Chloe gives an understanding hum in response. "We'll have to find some way to figure out what day it is first, so you can think about it in the meantime. Just so that you know it's whatever you decide, Red, no one is going to make you."

Red wants to say she knows but "She's already planning it, Chloe, how am I supposed to say no."

"Of course she is, she's excited and she's missing you. But, I also know that the Bridget I remember would never hold it against you if you decided you couldn't show. She loves you too much."

Red wants that sentiment to mean something she really does, but the Bridget she remembers also managed to turn into the one they left behind.

"I'll give it some thought."

"Great, oh and Red."

"Yes, Chloe?"

Chloe takes one of Red's hands and brings to back of it up to her lips. "Happy Birthday, my princess."

This did indeed manage to bring a hint of a smile back to Red's face, just as Chloe had hoped for.

"In Wonderland it's Happy UnBirthday if it's not the right day. I really do have to find out what the right day is, so that you can do this again on the correct one."

"I'll do it every day for the rest of our lives if that's what it takes."

Clocks, that was so cheesy how was Red not supposed to shove her away.

#glassheart #red of hearts #chloe charming #rise of red #red x chloe #curious things

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atarathegreat · 8 months ago

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BAKUGO NOW

Did you say: fantasy AU Bakugo smutt?

Dragon Prince Bakugo.

Bakugo wasn't opposed to an arranged marriage, per se. His mother and father were done with their exploring, and his mother was done berserking. Bakugo himself still hunted, but his mother and father were done with what they called 'young people activities'.

Besides, a marriage meant a celebration, and a celebration meant that everyone got to go wild. Drinking, sparring, dancing! It would all be so much fun for him and the others. It was like Bakugo could already smell the ale and feel the punches that he would be earning. It excited him to no end. Whoever was going to be his wife, as lucky as she was, would have to manage with him being as rowdy as he pleased. Maybe he would get lucky, too, and she would be a barbarian like him, just as rowdy.

"Bakugo, are you really going to wear that nasty pelt?" His mother, Mistuski, stood in the arch to his chambers, soon to be shared with a stranger, "You wear that dirty thing to go hunting and fishing and you want to wear it for a wedding celebration?"

Bakugo turned and glared at his mother, all while taking heavy steps toward the pile of clothes and pelts in the corner, "You want me to wear these overly fancy rags? Do I look like someone who wears green? I'm likely to be mistaken for a boar or a nightwalker!" He was wrong, of course, as he usually was, but his mother understood his anger. Her son didn't like fancy items or flashy jewelry. But his hunting pelt? Surely he had better sense than that. "Don't you want to make a dazzling first impression on your future wife?" Mitsuki smiled, holding up a nicer, cleaner pelt.

"I don't rightfully care. Our marriage is political at best, and a mothers move to get me married at worst." Bakugo plopped onto his bed.

Mitsuki was shocked. Not that he was wrong, her son was intelligent, but that he had openly said it without knowing what was leaving his lips. Sure, political was the best way to call it, bringing barbarians and the clerics together in, at least, a shaky alliance. But it would also be a lie to say that her and her husband hadn't also planned it so that her son would have a wife sooner, maybe even kids if he felt like being the bare minimum for a husband. Mitsuki sighed and sat next to her son, her awfully thick-headed son, "Can you just do as I ask you? Just this once, let this go smoothly?" She hated to beg her son to be clean, but she knew that there was a soft spot somewhere in him.

"If I do, will you get off my back about it?"

"I might."

To relent and let his mother have her way would bite him in the ass later, but he got up and switched the pelt out, securing a lighter wolf pelt at his hips, "Happy now?"

"Okay! Be ready by midday and don't get covered in blood, this needs to be a good impression for the girl and her family." Mitsuki clapped as she left, feeling triumphant.

Come midday, her victory was null. The poor girl's family had sent her alone. From Ethel to Kazar, the young lady had traveled in the back of a wagon with nothing but a simple dress. No jewels, no colors, not even a smile. Mitsuki watched as the girl stepped from her wagon, simple flat shoes hidden under the long fabric of her skirts. She was supposed to be a noble, but she looked like a little peasant child who begs for money.

"I thought clerics wore robes and traveled together?" Her husband, Masaru, watched the girl with pity, "She looks sad."

Her soft flat shoes were dirty and torn, like the bottom of her dress, and the rest of her was...grey. Her and her aura were dull and grey and defeated. As if she had nothing left.

"So much for that alliance, huh?" Bakugo scoffed, returning inside the castle to avoid the silent creature that would be his bride. She wasn't interesting enough to keep him around for anything, and he wouldn't subject himself to the nap she would give him. His mother, on the other hand, refused to let this be the ending or a fail. Mitsuki smiled and took the girls hands in her own, "Hello, sweetheart. How was your trip?"

"Long, Your Highness." The girl even sounded like a field mouse, how adorable, "Long and silent."

If anyone had paid attention for a fraction of a second, they would have seen that the wagon rode off as soon as her foot touched the ground. Sad. But Mitsuki was happy that the girl was in Kazar now, at least she would grow to have some semblance of a family that would travel with her. Mitsuki nodded, "Call me Mitsuki. What is your name, hun?"

"Y/n." She responded well enough, albeit timidly. Masaru suspected that Y/n was raised in one of the many families that viewed the woman as caretakers and mothers. A devastating fate when women were as strong as the men if given the chance to build muscle. There was no doubt that Bakugo would be upset by this girl not being strong or loud. "Where is your family?" He was curious, who was this girl and why was she alone?

"They sent me alone. Said that the alliance meant little to them so long as I was out of their sight." Y/n spoke without confidence, but as if she believed every word she said, "They wanted to thank you for taking this burden off their hands."

That struck Masaru in a visceral way. Her own family saw her as a burden? How awful. She was anything but, and she was cute, clearly had nice genes for a cleric.

"I wish to apologize. I... I know little. I cannot read or write; I hardly understand my own ways. I'm useless and lack the ability to bring anyone joy." It was so awful to hear the things she said about herself. Y/n was pretty, Mitsuki could already see the beautiful grandchildren she would gain from this girl and her son. Good genes and good genes bred better genes, in her mind. "But I am willing to learn, if there is anyone with the patience to deal with my stupidity. I can clean, but I've never been praised for the work." She was so upfront about what she thought was things they would turn her away for.

And this behavior persisted into the celebrations. Y/n isolating herself in the corners, in the shadows, avoiding the others who wished to get to know her and welcome her to the clan and village. It was upsetting.

Bakugo found her after a hefty search (a search of ten minutes where he wasn't actually looking but happened to glance at her a few times before finally approaching). "What's wrong? Do you not realize how grateful you should be for this?" Bakugo came on strong, he was aware of that, but who hid during their own wedding celebrations? She seemed to be brushing it all aside and acting as if this was what she deserved. "Apologies. I'm not supposed to interact with anyone." Y/n was a mumbling mess, never speaking louder than she thought she needed to. It pissed Bakugo off to no end. "Whatever. If you don't want to be down here, then go to bed. You'll bring the mood down." He returned to the sparring corner of the big room, joining in with the fights.

Y/n, with a lot of difficulty, managed to find the bedchambers where she would be sleeping. It was Bakugo's room, of course, she knew that, but now she would also occupy the space. It was a messy space, a man's space. How was she supposed to feel at home in this strange place, with strange people, and an even stranger lifestyle? She was used to the women being small, quiet, never drawing attention to themselves. The women here in Kazar, they didn't seem to care about the consequences of having the attention. Aside from that, the women were muscley and brawn. They even knew how to read.

She crawled into the windowsill and looked up at the stars. For a brief moment she foolishly thought about whether her family was missing her. It was a dumb thought, one she wiped away quickly.

Meanwhile, Bakugo was sparring and drinking, thoughts of his new bond gone as he drowned his liver in ale and whatever foods had been made. His concerns were with winning the matches he was in. Zero thoughts of the girl up in his window. When he did finally stumble his way up to his chambers, Y/n was there immediately. Her gentle hands held cold cloths to his alcohol warmed cheeks. "What the hell are you doing to me, woman?" Bakugo grabbed her wrists to keep her hands on his face. The way she stared at him, wide eyes that reminded him of a frightened doe staring at a hunter as she waited for him to make a move.

"You're too damn quiet." Bakugo moved his face closer to hers, wanting to see what type of reaction he could pull out of her. Y/n seemed like a stoic girl and Bakugo wanted to see her lose her temper, to see her make any face except that doe eyed stare. So, he kept moving closer, until his lips touched hers and he'd never felt something so soft. He would blame the ale later.

Her body was rigid, yet loose, as Bakugo held her cheeks to keep her from moving away from him. Her tongue tasted of fruits, wild berries and water from a stream. It was addicting for the man, even if he was just some drunken barbarian at the moment.

Something about her softness was drawing him in. The way she moved how he wanted her to and the careful way she touched him, like he was as fragile as she was. It was different, in a good way.

"You have a choice in this." He mumbled, unable to make himself pull his lips away from hers, "Just because I am your husband does not mean you have to do everything I wish."

And she still didn't reject him or his advances. It was almost like she leaned into them, put more pressure in her gentle touches and soft caresses. The pelt around his hips hit the wall before the floor as he tossed it, not really giving a damn about where it went as long as it was off of him. "You're cute, I'll give you that." Bakugo mumbled as he walked her backwards towards the bed, bunching the skirts of her dress in his hands, "I wonder if the rest of you is as soft as your hands..."

"I'm not worth your physical affections." Y/n fell back easily onto the bed, never pushing Bakugo away. A loud laugh exploded in his chest at her words, "You're worth it if I find you worth it. You clearly aren't smart enough to gauge that."

Soft was an understatement. Plush and soft, Bakugo couldn't keep himself from squeezing every inch of her skin. "Soft as a hawk sprite chick. You ever felt one of them?" Bakugo nuzzled against her collar bone, "I'll catch one on my next hunting trip so you can."

This girl, this woman that Bakugo has been married to, what type of life had she led? Why was she so subservient to him? She didn't even fight him as he undressed her. He was a stranger to her, and she just... let him do as he pleased. Would she even make noise if he didn't ask her to?

Bakugo bit at her neck, smiling to himself at the involuntary gasp that he had pulled from her. He had caused a sound, though it was soft, to leave her without asking. "You're softer than the women here, you know that? It's nice, but I want you to talk more. Fuck, scream at anything if you want." Bakugo shuffled his pants down his legs and laughed at the way she avoided eye contact. It was apparent that she would be someone he'd have to have a small amount of control over, but that was the fun with some of these things. Bakugo leaned over her and grabbed her chin, "I want to see these pretty eyes on me."

Without a second of warning or even courtesy of being careful, Bakugo snatched her to the edge of the bed and snuggled his cock deep within her hold. She was soft, and it felt like she was trying to pull him deeper. "There you go, just keep squeezing." Bakugo pulled back a little to look at the connection he had forged, "Stretched fuckin' wide, you know that?"

She was cute when she whimpered, her unscathed hands gripping at Bakugo's rougher skin was nearly driving him absolutely crazy. This stranger, this quiet woman that Bakugo was so, so sure he would hate, had managed to make herself the center of Bakugo's, albeit drunken, world. There was nothing to stop him from leaving his teeth marks across her skin, and she looked a lot better with his markings. He had to think for a moment about how wonderful it would be to see her running to him after a hunting trip, how excited she would be to see him return was something he was hoping to see one day.

The pleasure was getting him too lost in his mind, making him think that maybe being married wasn't so bad, that maybe it wasn't just a political marriage. He didn't even see that he was hurting her, but she didn't sound like she was in pain. Blood started to stain the pelt blanket below her, causing a slight bit of concern. "Are you okay?" He didn't stop, she was too comfortable, but he also wouldn't make the mistake of thinking her body was as tough as a barbarian womans. "Stings a little, but it's okay~" Every word sounded like it was laced with euphoria. Maybe she had never felt such a thing, never had sex. Perhaps her body was as strong as a barbarian womans, she just hadn't ever used it.

"Hold on to me if you need to, I'll take care of you." Bakugo mumbled, putting more of his teeth marks across her neck.

#anime #manga #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academia #mha fantasy au #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader

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coal15 · 4 months ago

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bucktommy headcanons:

Buck may be an awesome cook, but he's terrible at cakes and fancy/pretty desserts. Tommy is awesome at fancy desserts, and refers to his talent for decorating cakes as "his gayest trait" (aside from dating men.)

Buck is used to being the Big Spoon in relationships, but it turns out when the person he's dating actually is bigger than him, he loves being the Little Spoon.

Tommy's internal alarm clock almost always wakes him up at least an hour before Buck, so when they have overlapping days off he tiptoes to the kitchen and makes cinnamon rolls or breakfast muffins or something as quietly as possible. The first time Buck wakes up to the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls he loses his damn mind.

several more under the cut

They love going to couples trivia nights at bars where they aren't regulars and crushing the other couples. On the few occasions they don't make it to the top three Buck cheers himself up by making dinner the next night. Losing doesn't upset Tommy nearly as much, but he still bakes cheer-up cupcakes for Buck.

Buck forgets where he put the keys like five seconds after he sets them down somewhere. Even when he picks a dedicated spot (hook next to the door, small bowl on the counter, bedside table) it only works for a few weeks and then he's right back to tossing wherever. Tommy spends the first year of their relationship nagging him about it before finally giving up.

One day while Buck is at work Tommy has a fit of inspiration and decides to reorganize the whole kitchen in a way that makes more sense. Buck comes home already hangry and tired, and he's super pissed about not being consulted beforehand. It's their first really big 'spirals-out-of-control-eventually-veers-off-topic-what-were-we-originally-fighting-about' fight.

They agree on two pets. Dogs. A week after they adopt the puppies Buck finds a pair of kittens abandoned on the side of the road and falls in love. So now they have two dogs and two kittens.

Years ago an army buddy of Tommy's introduced him to opera and he shocked himself by falling in love with it, so he drags Buck kicking and screaming to see a live performance of The Marriage of Figaro (a comedy opera by Mozart) and by the end of the first act Buck is hooked. Tickets aren't cheap but they try to go see least one opera per year.

The only truly loving family influence Tommy had as a child was his great grandfather. Tommy was only twelve when he died, but he swore he'd name his kids after him someday. He wasn't thinking clearly through the grief. His grandfather's name was Rufus Faggert Gord the third. But Tommy adored grandpa Rufus so much he can't stand to break the promise, so he and Buck agree that two of their future childrens' middle names will be Rufus or Gord (faggert is an automatic no for oh so many reasons)

Their three favorite couple activities are the aforementioned trivia nights, playing in the kitchen, and fishing somewhere quiet away from the city.

#bucktommy #tevan #evan ��buck” buckley #tommy kinard #headcanons #just for fun #this is what happens when I have too much free time

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buzzkillers · 1 year ago

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Burning like embers (falling tender)

Pairing: Regulus Black • Black!Reader

Summary: Regulus kidnaps the bride. (Wc:5k)

Warning: Dubcon, Kidnapping, Semi Unrequited Love, Attempted Non-Con, Pseudo-incest, Pureblood Politics, Regulus Embracing His Flaws (Yt and British)

Beta: @darksideofthecocoamoon !!! This would've been way worse without her.

Regulus Black was not a good man.

Good men existed in folk tales, in between the thick yellow pages of his childhood books. Where nobility and honor was permeated in ink and their righteousness was outlined in bold roman font, the letters too tiny for baby regulus to read. It was hard to be a good man, he learned. And by the age of twenty four, he was barely a man at all.

Rather melodramatic. His mother had said.

Mother also said he should feel lucky.

It was luck after all wasn't it? His mother said. A gift to have all of his boyhood crushed out and replaced with a substance that no good man ever possessed. Voldemort knew how to show his favor. He should've been grateful.

And Regulus was. Grateful that is. He was grateful in the way ravens were grateful for a murder, fire to wood and a cowardly man to…well to him. Regulus. Who had no problem bringing all of these things to fruition. Better than him than the others. His colleagues that liked to add to the fire and wood first, turn a flicker flame to a conflagration.

It was good that he had all of that goodness ripped out of him, the remnants stuck between Voldemort's teeth.

Because good men became drunks; drunk on alcohol, indulgent on cheap thrills and even cheaper whores. Complacent. Regulus thought.

Vermin. His father corrected. Dogs that pretended to be wolves before they latched back on their leashes and trotted home; clean shaven and pristine.

Regulus knew good men well afterall.

He's killed many.

A poison there. A dog bone here. Family cemeteries made entirely in his name.

So when he said he wasn't a good man, it wasn't an attempt to be humble or modest or bashful or coy or any other fanciful saying. Regulus Black was not a good person.

The mark proved it.

The murders cemented it.

And your body chained to his bed, screamed it.

Or maybe that was simply a gross overstatement?

The word 'chained' naturally made one think of those muggle devices. A crude contraption with metallic locks and easily hexed metals. (An insult to human ingenuity, really.) No, your chains were of the metaphysical kind: sophisticated, invisible, snug. It was the nicest thing he's ever done for an opposer to his Lord.

Unfortunately, you were not raised by Mother. So you didn’t understand to be grateful. Which was a shame. Even a bird admired their cages eventually. It was the least you could do.

But of course Regulus' life was unfairly hard and his options null. So instead of admiration and dutiful respect, you laid with your back turned and her body curled against the dark corner of your bed. Small and pitiful— a bit wet too.

Funny.

Maybe he should've called you a fish instead. You wouldn't laugh but it would be funny. After all the white gown that clung to your body was completely translucent, the edges covered in soap suds. (Nastily, Regulus Black curled his bruised lips; a caged bird indeed.)

He closed the door behind him.

His own clothes drenched and his fingers bloody with scratches before he dumped the wand in his hand to the ground. It clattered unceremoniously.

"My bird," he began, voice smooth, annoyed.

"I hope you're incredibly happy with yourself," he slipped his loafers off and untwisted his family rings.

"There's a dead wizard at our doorstep because of you," parts of him anyway.

The rest of him was about a few yards out. With chunks of flesh too burned and scarred to be identified as human spewed across the acres of land. (Dog meat, his father would say. Hopefully the animals thought the same.)

The whole ordeal was unnecessarily messy you see? Uncivilized even as he looked at the 'dog' blood splattered against his light robes. Angered, he unbuttoned that too.

"It was an avoidable death, don't you think?"

"A complete waste of my time, even?" He cocked his head, his voice heavy with something that made your back tense.

Yet of course, you refused to turn around, to look back…

A recent nasty habit of yours as he threw his robes on a nearby chair. The excess blood dripping from hand woven cloth onto the concrete floor. A familiar sight.

Slowly, his eyes dragged to the wand on the ground, so small and twiggy. It reminded him of the toy wands he saw poor half-bloods play with when no one was looking. A scrap of trash. No different than what you'd throw for a animal to catch.

Yet, it took death for the wizard to let it go. (A dog and its bone.)

He frowned, then snapped it beneath his heel.

Magic spurted out and when he looked up your head swirled back towards the wall. He frowned again.

"You could at least cry," he said, voice hoarse.

“He died for you after all,”

Besides your frame, a lamp flickered and its shadow danced across your back. He licked his lips, hmm. “They all died for you, actually,”

"Should I tell them to stop?" He murmured. But you only curled further into yourself. Like a victim, like someone that's done nothing wrong. He gritted his teeth. "No that won't work, you'll just keep sending them," Regulus kicked the wand across the room.

"Maybe if he had served his purpose…." The air crackled. “..But alas,” Then he crossed the small room and plopped himself on the bed. His head cushioned against the duvet.

"What did you tell them anyway?" he whispered, before something cracked and your cuffs pulsed. He smiled.

"Did you say you were captured? That I was holding you prisoner? Did you lie, birdy?" He whispered, before slowly you sat up and turned your head. Your pupils were fat, your breath still.

"Shut up,"

"B-" he started before all air left his lungs, your hands wrapped around his throat.

"Tu putain de salope—" your knees dug into his waist. “—just stop talking," Spit flew with each word and it took everything in him not to lick it away. He could only smile and make it worse.

Your eyes widened, a fury of emotion flickering in and out and Regulus only with luck missed the conjured dagger that dug into the place where his head once was.

"Baise gluante-" Then with a flick of his wrist the chains tightened, your positions switched and Regulus was on top once more. His bony fingers pressed into a neck that creaked beneath his weight.

“That was an admirable trick,”

“You almost got me there.” He spoke too soon.

The knife appeared again, this time pressed too close to his third rib. Huh. What was that muggle saying about kicked dogs again?

"Don’t make me repeat myself," You demanded again between clenched teeth and his skin that was beginning to unravel under the metal. Something in him warmed at that. He killed a man like this the day before. But that was more brutal, cruel even. This was not that. This violence was intimate, affectionate.

So much so that the moment you spat your words back at him, this time he did lick it off.

"Sweet," He murmured to himself, like burnt cranberries and raw strawberries, something natural that bursted on his tongue. He licked it again. “A little sour too,” Beneath him you laid frozen, your own eyes widened until your grip on the knife loosened. "Just like me,"

"You're sick," you said it like you were just noticing. "How could you just-"

Quickly, you took a deep breath.

In.

Out.

“I'm nothing like you,"

"Nothing?”

With a grunt you attempted to get up but he kept you down with nails that dug into your wrist. An devilish embrace. "You killed him and you didn't have to, you didn't even need to touch him, you could've let him go, kept him out of it," you insisted, each word said with hard eyes and fat tears on your cheeks. "We're nothing alike,"

Regulus shrugged his shoulders.

"Then leave,"

"…."

Outside your ‘dogs’ flesh had begun to be pecked off by the ravens and the bones by the flies. Inside, you licked your lips but you did not move an inch. “Here, I’ll even help you,” he confessed before with a whispered incantation, your chain vanished. “Go,”

A symphony of emotions flickered across your face. They all burned hot and they all made Regulus shift above your thigh. Before your knife clattered to smoke and your face twisted into something like hatred.

His little bird drew back into her cage.

"Yes," he sighed, his voice not at all shallow and not at all starved for air while he rubbed at the wound that would soon scar by morning,

"That's what I thought,"

—

When he first met you, his first thought was: 'This isn't going to work,' and his second thought was 'She's too good for Sirius,'

In hindsight, both statements were correct.

You were a bold thing really. A beauty covered in rare gems and an aura that spoke of higher breeding. Mother boasted about you highly. The jewel of the west she called you. Someone, born and bred within the confines of a highly respected Afro-Caribbean pure blood family. It was a surprise that Mother even knew you but he guessed that was the point. She wanted someone not as connected in British society after all. Someone who only visited when they had to.

In other words, the likelihood of Sirius already having fucked you was low and the likelihood that you knew him was even lower.

For his mother, ignorance truly was bliss.

If not for Sirius than also for the fact that no non-British family paid attention to Voldemort.

Voldemort's tyranny was simply an English problem. The bloke didn’t seem to care about the muggles from other countries, much less ones from the Caribbeans. Still, people have heard whispers of him. Only a dip in the pond about a crazed muggleborn that had a bone to pick with British society.

Nothing special because in hindsight, who didn't?

So, it was unsurprising that your parents agreed to a marriage of convenience with the one family that was in His pockets. What was surprising was how well you took to it.

According to Sirius, arranged marriages were archaic and boorish. Not because of any logical reasons like loss of autonomy but because ‘Only a pauper let's their parents pick where his cock goes'. Of course he paid Sirius no mind.

Yet, solemnly he wondered if you felt the same. As a boy he would've scoffed at the idea of someone not wanting to marry into the powerful House Of Black but he hasn't been a boy for a long time now. The scales had long fallen from his eyes. In the privacy of his mind, he could not say that it was truly an honor to marry into the Black Family.

Not with the Potters and Misli’s right there. Not with witches like Bellatrix in the family. On the contrary, it's most likely that you were in for a shock. And you'd probably run for the hills while Sirius laughed into his fifth bottle of ale and mother seethed in the shadows.

It was the logical conclusion, he knew it and father knew it. But sometimes wolves liked to just watch their prey die. And who were they to go against Mothers will? Father the patriarch and him the–good son. The dog. So he even prepared for it. What a waste of time that was.

He told Kreacher to prepare for a crying wailing woman. He didn’t prepare for the force that walked through the door instead. It was raining when you visited but you didn't seem to notice. Instead your face was held high as you met mother, your grip firm when you met father and you smiled at him. Very toothy and almost childish but it fit you well.

Father and Mother were nervous that Sirius wouldn't take to you. That they'd have to find another poor woman for their plans but Regulus remembered the sparkle behind his brother's eyes, the twitch of his fingers when you matched fire with oil. You gave him boorish jokes with a classy smile and a mouth no different than a muggle sailor. You were everything dirty about Sirius, wrapped and repackaged into someone pretty, someone that could take it, take him.

Regulus wasn't impressed of course. It took anyone with a halved brain cell to get along with Sirius. You were really no different than James in his mind. Someone that could code switch between two worlds without making either party uncomfortable. A chameleon with nothing inside. It was good that you only had one job really. One simple, impossible to fail job: 'Bring my son back to me,' He heard mother whisper, both of your bodies hidden in the shadows of the back rooms. ‘Bring Sirius back into the fold’

‘Bring him back with a mark,’ She really meant to say and then the conversation was over.

And of course you failed.

____

"Do not touch me with blood still on your hands," you barked as Regulus dipped your head into the water. The soap suds in your head mingling with the crusted blood on his fingers until the water became a dull, faint pink.

He hummed. "You demand a lot of me," but his hands do hover away from your hair and to the lip of the porcelain tub. You'd smell so much better without the after-smell of spilt blood anyway.

Without thinking he rinsed his hands in the water bowl by his side. His pink reflection looking at him before he went back to your puffed- no braided hair. It wasn't like that before. Did you do that while he was upstairs? With your bare hands at that? No, you must've used a spell. Strangled together the few bouts of magic his bindings granted you and did what he offered to do freely. Impressive.

He should take it all apart. 'Just to spite you,' he thought before with a hum he squeezed more shampoo in your hair. Suds dropped to the wooden floor, and seeped between the cracks. The scent of juniper berry erupted in the air. Your hands gripped the lip of the tub tighter.

“Sirius used to wash my hair like this.” you murmured, your teeth dug deep into your lip. “Eventually, he’d join me and we’d stay in the tub for hours,”

He paused, his fingertips wrinkled in your hair before you took a long and hard inhale. In. Out.

“Is that so?” he murmured, something tough in his throat. It was only because of the hand of Merlin that he was able to sound nonchalant.

From his position, he could not see your features. But he could look at the mirror that faced the both of you. It stood at the opposite side of the room; decorated in golds and engraved with faces that he had no interest in knowing. Your own face was the only one that captured his attention. And at this moment, it was closed off. Your lips twisted sardonically and your eyes cut to the side.

“Yes, there was more that was happening of course, but—that would be inappropriate to tell, " you snickered as if you were the leader on all things dealing with propriety. He took a moment and breathed in.

“Was this before or after you betrayed him,” Regulus asked. You went silent.

Coward.

“Or do you even remember,”

“-shut up,”

“Is that a no then?”

"Are you deaf?" you cut your eyes towards the mirror. "I told you to shut up,"

His own lips curled, "You are still wet," The suds in your hair have now dried. Leaving behind dollops of water that now pooled at his feet. The excess had begun to drip to the floor, the rest down your neck, to your back.

"Did that also remind you of your time with Sirius?" Then you shot up, the water falling from your shoulders.

"Do you constantly think about what gets your brother hard?" What a dirty mouth.

His lips twisted. "You should get back in,"

"No,"

"You'll get a cold,"

You rolled your eyes. "Then you shall tell my family I died of hyperthermia, they'll believe that,"

His eyes fell flat but Regulus didn't say a word. Just kept his touch gentle, his movements soft. As if you were a lover, a friend and not—

The knife only nicked his shoulder this time.

"I said-" you shuddered violently,. "-To stop it,"

In the mirror, Regulus watched as you shot him a look. Weeks ago there was a fiery rage in there, dragon eyes in human form. Now it was just tired, bored even. Then you looked back down, silent.

He narrowed his eyes. "Ask me,"

Your grimace only deepened, but now there was humor laced in the edges. "Ask?" your lips twisted into a nasty tired smile;

"Demander?" You giggled. "Did you forget what's in our blood?" You questioned with all that humor quickly gone and replaced with a tone ancient and old.

"We do not ask," you sneered, then rolled your shoulders.

"Even Sirius knew that,"

_____

You didn't even know Sirius.

That was the worst part. You giggled in hidden corners and you kissed his hand to make the elders gasp in horror and Sirius like a fool ate it up and you didn't even know him.

Sometimes,the depths of his brother's stupidity astounded him. Did he really think that a woman like you would just fall in his lap? You were already out of his league. A barmaid would be a better fit.

It was foolish, idiotic, ridiculous but it worked. Because without knowing Sirius was getting closer to taking the mark. He no longer grimaced when Regulus arrived home smelling of iron. Or when he got caught with scratches on his arm and blood on his collar. Mother's plan was working and he only felt pity.

It was one thing to pretend, it was another to have to dumb yourself down for a bonafide pauper. If Mother had picked him, there would be no farce. Not like he wanted that. He didn't want anything.

He was fine with watching from the shadows. His entire presence ignored while you and Sirius pretended you were the only ones in England. It was simply the way things were, he realized with clenched knuckles and a tight smile.

But did it have to be?

No, it didn't.

—-

Six months later, Regulus understands why Sirius gets so addicted. A drunk like him, so prone to tasting what was bitter, his tongue rotten with ale. You were an overturn. Something annoyingly new. Regulus had never tasted something so sweet. Poppy pomegranate and sunburst cherries. He swore that he’d get a cavity as he dug his fingers into your hair.

Twisting you into position, tight, proper, the way you gripped the stem of any fruit. Of anything that you wanted to get a better taste of. You were too stunned to fight back then. The bitter after taste of champagne you were prone to drinking sticky on your tongue. Your glass already shattered on the floor.

In the next room, your husband argued with portraits. And when it's done, and when you slap him. Regulus received a thought. An awful hypothesis.

What else could he get away with when enclosed by walls? The rest of the world locked away?

An awful thought indeed.

—--

It's only a week later that it happened. Sirius waking up to an empty bed and Regulus miles away on a mission, in the middle of nowhere, in a quaint little cottage.

It was almost too easy.

—

You didn’t leave of course. Not at first.

Because leaving met acknowledging that you were wrong. That there was nothing to gain at keeping his attention. Leaving meant having to look Sirius in the eye and tell him you lied.

Of course you had questions. Regulus of course didn’t answer.

You didn't need to know how distraught Sirius had become. A pathetic puppy that moped around the manor destroying everything in sight. Regulus didn’t even need to plant ideas in the brutes head. No, all the seeds were already there. Sown in from years of idiocy and your failed meddling.

'It was Dumbledore, I just know.’

‘That stupid old git is trying to punish me,' he whined to Regulus. 'He took her, I know he did Reggie, you need to help me'

'Prongs and-" he'd gnaw at his cracked lips. 'they don't believe me, they think I'm mad, they think I'm—Regulus'

Sirius was mad for you. Unnaturally obsessed. A fool with his alcohol taken away. A dog that's lost his chew toy. He didn't know any better. He couldn't have. But Regulus did, Regulus knew you. He understood your games and twist. Poor Sirius.

If Regulus had to be the bad guy then so be it. He could be the executioner and the judge, he just needed to play his cards right.

Murder would create a martyr but someone missing? Someone that Sirius could say left him high and dry. It was what you were planning to do anyway. And if Regulus quickened the process that didn't make him anymore of a bad person than the murder and countrywide slaughter ever did.

—

You were surprisingly clumsy by your lonesome.

Random scars and cuts littered your body when he wasn’t looking. Ghost of attempts at escape most likely. Which was fine. Regulus could play doctor. Even if it included a bath. A mutual need, probably. The blood on his hands had begun to make his nose burn.

He watched you flinch, took relevance in the way your eyes settled: tired, bitter. It was the same look worn by others. It reminded him of himself, of mother. Abrasive. Challenging him.

After all these weeks, you seemed to still be under the impression that Regulus was anything like Sirius. That they shared the same rotten brain cell that Sirius had split amongst his new brothers, his new family.

He unclenched his fist. Let his anger burn and flick in the atmosphere before with a turn of his head he looked at the hair moisturizer on the counter top.

"Your hairs going to be tangled tomorrow. You should let me rebraid it," You scuffed at that.

"Touch me and you die." You said the same thing to Sirius once. He heard it through the walls during your consummation night. Between the sounds of ruffled sheets and curses. And surprisingly, Sirius listened.

Regulus didn't have the same control. He grabbed for a braid, a knife appeared once again at his rib. He sighed. “You’re being stubborn,”

“I will rebraid my own hair,”

“..With what autonomy?”

You rolled your eyes. "Want to find out?”

He snorted, hands gripping your strands. "Sometimes, it astounds me how well you lie."

"Don't you realize that I already know you're guilty?"

You sighed. Tired, as if this was a conversation you two have had a million times before. It was.

You looked away. "I'm not," he yanked your head. "But you are." Then when with a snap of his wand you were dried and dressed. Your body plopped on your bed without care. He rolled his eyes.

"You fed my brother lies and lured him away f when your job was so simple. to bring him back," Get him to take the mark, be the whisper in his ears, that was what Mother told you. All that deceit just so that the family could have a proper Heir. A better head outside of him the runt and Bellatrix the mad woman.

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You lured him away and then-” he gripped his fist into the sheets. “-and then you attempted to run with another,”

“You were going to betray him,” it was funny really. Outside of the curses and the hexes and threats that was the one that got you to pay attention. That indifference melting away with ease.

"You are a liar and you should be happy that I even-":

"Look at me?" You rolled your head to the side. "Cause you look at me alot Black, even when you think I'm not looking back," you said this with shadowed eyes and a laziness to your movements. Like you had all the time in the world to revel in the fact that Regulus watched you back. That he wasn’t as suave as he thought you were.

Regulus flickered his eyes down to the crotch of your dress. Theres a wet spot there that never fully dried. Regulus shot to his feet.

"You're angry,"

"Regulus,"

"I get it, truly" he found himself at the edge of your bed. A wand less spell on his lips that warmed the fabric.

"I've been nothing but terrible to you, completely awful. That's no way to treat a sister-in-law, now is it?" he sat at your side, his hands on your thigh. Fabric brushed against your bare skin. Under his words, you shook. "But if you bring up his name again, I'll-"

"What?" You sneered, that hatred bleeding back in. "Let me go?"

"Tell Sirius what I did?" With a blink your eyes began to sheen. "I do not care,"

Then your face twisted. "Not anymore"

He gripped your face, his own features suddenly inhumane. "Your boy toy has made you cocky,"

"Do you think I won't do it? Are you prepared to make that gamble?" There was a frenzied tone to his voice as he said this. For a moment he wondered if it was the weather. An effect of being so sick of your behavior. He must've been worse than he thought but you were looking at him with defiance. He wanted to find control but there was a smolder to your eyes, a spark and suddenly Regulus lost all control. You were serious.

And then you screamed as he gripped your shoulders and shoved you into the mattress. It bounced beneath the weight. "No," he whispered.

Your slip entangled in his fingers. You were slipping between his fingers. The harsh tear of fabric brought him back to the present as the top of your slip laid torn in his hand.

You laughed. It too sounded frayed while your fingers trembled. "No?"

But outside of that you said nothing, just stared at him the way you stared at potion books and Sirius odd muggle gimmicks. Something dangerous, that you were simply waiting to explode and somehow that was worse than screaming. Worse than you cursing at him while his fingers dug into your ripped dress.

"You do not know him,"

But youre stupid so you only grunted back, "Don't I?,"

He laughed "My own brother? You really think you know him better than I?"

"No—"

"No?"

"I don't know what Sirius was like as a child but I do know that the boy you call your brother is dead"

You gripped his arms now, like an anchor. "I know that he only exist in your memories, and I mourn your loss"

"But the man is different and I know him and I know that he would never give into Voldemort—not even for you,"

Don't say his name, rested heavy on his tongue. But he crushed it. In that moment something in him died and something else was born. A substance unknown to good men or even Voldemort.

So, he smiled. Soft hands coming up to pick at the soft white gown. The fabric was practically translucent up close.

"Those are harsh accusations," he plopped on the bed and felt himself jump a bit before his hands relaxed against your knee and then your thigh and then- paused with a look.

Your body trembled beneath his fingers.

"Fratricide, sororicide? You really can't think of anything worse?" He whispered, his words painting a portrait that only you could see.

Still, he watched your eyes widen and felt your breath stutter. A fine drip of water that didn't come from your hair, slid down your forehead. Before a hummingbirds heart fluttered beneath your skin. And all he could do was stare, his hand pressed firmly against your cunts entrance.

"I can.." he said, still covered in blood, still burning with the mark, before his fingers slipped between your thighs. Plushy and warm then suddenly damp, drenching his fingers.

"..I can think of something worse for Sirius to find."

"He'd only have to look at my hands"

You jumped back and thrashed but it was worthless, his fingers were already against your cunt.

The sounds only got louder, your thrashing more manic but the spell he put on your hands and feet kept you plastered to the bed. He grounded into you further, chest against chest before his head nuzzled against your own.

'Frankincense and juniper berry' he thought with a whiff. Like the familiar books he read as a child and the aroma of the Black home after night had fallen. Divine and familiar.

His own little goddess.

The revelation forced him to kiss your cheek. His own lips pressed firmly against your skin. He could taste the shea butter. Could still smell the fruity body wash as your screams turned into whimpers and then morphed into ugly moans. The sounds of pleasure ripped out of you through clenched teeth and bitten lips.

He brought his free hand up, clenched your neck. Felt the arteries jump and your jugular twitch. He killed a man like this earlier today. A long and dirty muggle way of murder.

Still, he took interest in the way the man's eyes slowly turned glossy and the way his hands clenched helplessly at Regulus' clothed arms. As if this would rip him away from Regulus. Force him to not carry out his duty. Beneath him, you did the same. Your soft hands grasping helplessly at his clothes. Pulling him in, pushing him back. Delirious.

"Tu vas le regretter, Black,"

"You gain nothing-"

"C'mon you can beg longer than that, give me a tale for Sirius.” He sneered. “Let me tell him that you put up a fight," he bent down.

"Let me tell him that his wife fought hard for me not to fuck her," you spat on him, he kissed you.

Then you knee him in the face. He jerked back, blood spurted in his hand. He smeared it against your knee.

"You palefaced-" you punched him this time, his teeth rattled. the bed met his back. The force ricocheting till the bed frame cracked and your chains went loose and Regulus was back on you like a feral dog.

You would not leave this place.

But youre quick, a snap of wind that pushes him to his back, elbow in his throat. Above, him you look like a God. Vengeful. And ready to destroy the only person who exists just for you. “You can't stop me, “

And Regulus is weak. A small pathetic thing just like Bellatrix said he was because his eyes burn. The edges wet with admonishment. The edges of his lips quiver. And suddenly all that anger bleeds away. He gripped your wrist. Sharps nail dug into your skin with something worse.

“He doesn't deserve you,” He pierced, throat burning. Above him, your eyes melted. The look indescribable.

“I know.”

“You will get bored of him, and I'll still be here waiting, watching,” he pulled you closer, nose to nose. You filled his vision. “Do you like making me your dog?”

You opened your mouth but no–

He persisted, tears fat. “Can't I just have you,”

“Can't you just want me? Is that too much to ask? Is it too much to want?” Regulus wanted so much already. He rarely ever had it in his grasp. The back of his mind filled with ideologies of freedom, and family and lonely nights in nowhere cities where no one would know his name. All of that was too far away though, intangible. But this–

He crawled into your space, gripped your skin.

–This was so close.

He shuddered. Lips red and his face damp with anticipation. Below him, you looked ethereal. The edges of your eyes burning soft.

“Is this really all you want from me? Sex? After everything?”

No. What Regulus wanted was much darker than that. More debased and immoral and such an awful sticky thing that he could not even admit it to himself. But for now, if that's what you needed to believe. If only a physical communion was what you thought he wanted of you. Then so be it.

He opened his mouth, ready to lie.

Yes.

It's right on his tongue.

Yes. He was not greedy. Yes. He did not want anything more.

Yes. The oath of one easily satisfied.

But nothing came out. His voice stolen as you looked up at him. Eyes wide. All seeing. Knowing of everything.

Regulus shook his head.

“No.” the word bled out in spurts.

Weak. Bellatrix whispered in his ear. So fucking weak. Maybe he was no better than Sirius.

Because you were only going to deny him. You were going to say no. Laughing at his face because that's what people did in the face of fools. Regulus grip loosened. Beneath him you sighed.

“Merde.”

“You're a piece of work, do you understand–” your lips twisted, eyes narrowed. “This is not my home and yet you keep me here, this is not my country and yet you keep me here, don't you think I've given up enough to simply be in your presence? Can't this be enough?”

You say that but Regulus sees the molten desire in your eyes. The way you flickered across his face, unable to stay in one spot but lingering all the same as you crowded in him too.

Suddenly the air was dry. Regulus forgetting how to breath as you leaned back. Exposing your neck, dematerializing the knife.

He gets closer. “Speak plainly.”

You looked away. Outside the dog was barely bones. Rotten in the earth. You seemed to contemplate something, eyes distant before you're brought back to reality.

“...I'll allow it.”

Oh.

‘We’ can have this. Not just him, not just you. This had to be a gift. Before your grip turned tight, your face feral. A certain kind of wildness found only in martyrs and heroes and righteous fools littered your eyes before you smiled, teeth bloody. “Ask any more of me and i'll leave you here,”

“Alone, and then you’ll have to kill me to get me to stay.”

"I will haunt you till you are dust and bones and-" he kissed you, his own blood smeared with yours before he pressed his forehead against your own. "Yes," he whispered, and it couldn't help but notice that it sounded like a prayer. Like holiness,a type of reverence found only at the foot of gods and priest.

He said it again. You froze.

"Just don't go where I can't find you."

He smiled.

Then he kissed you again, on your nose this time, then your eyelids. Then sweetly, softly the space between your lips and your nose. He sighed and then he took you.

He puts his mouth on you. Slipped his head beneath your layers of clothing.

Unbuckled and unzipped and pulled apart each single one before your bareness glistened in his face. Until he could see the disbelief at his urgency flood your features. The confusion at his delicacy. Regulus understood.

There was something horrific but about taking someone's defenses apart with a sensitivity. With the precision of a monster that did not have to rip you to shreds to make you feel fear. And when he got to your core Regulus wasted no time.

....You tasted like pussy.

Musky and sweet, and in your skin he smelt the juniper berry and in your lower hairs drenched with the smell of arousal.

Above him you flinched and you shivered. It reminded him of a siren.

The unseelie ones that would flinch and cry as he electrocuted their water. Taking their oxygen away, fucking up the chemical imbalance, till their nails cracked the glass,

All while his fingers brushed against your own. Your ring finger still entrapped by a silver snake ring. Regulus was not a good man. He was flawed with impatience, entitlement, narcissism, the list went on. But it was his entitlement that got you in his bunker. It was his impatience that made him act, his familial nature that got you here on your back. Body drained and his head placed timidly on your belly.

He listened to your heart beat through skin and bones. Through vertebrae and arteries. Because everything was louder there, your blood even sang for him. A frenzied beat that made your skin hot to the touch.

He collapsed further into you. Nuzzling his nose into the crux of your neck.

An unleashed dog indeed.

#regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #harry potter x black reader #regulus black x y/n smut #marauders era smut #regulus black smut #regulus black fic #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus black x black reader #regulus black #tw: dark content #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #killer writings <3

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a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten · 7 months ago

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Why Ceroba and the Feisty Four were right

Not bothering with any fancy opening, it's exactly what it says it is: Ceroba and the Feisty Four were right to call out Starlo.

Now before you crucify me, I love Starlo as a character. But I'm tired of people (not calling out anyone in particular) pretending that he's done absolutely nothing wrong and demonize Ceroba and the Feisty Four for snapping at him (largely Ceroba, but I see the Feisty Four get shat on every now and then). And this is not me calling Starlo a jerk. Typically, calling him a flat-out jerk would mean he did shit on purpose with malicious intent, and I don't think he acted out of spite. Rather, he did all those things because he just didn't think about it in the moment. I understand that, and I can 110% relate to that myself, honestly.

That being said, he did make some legit dick moves over the course of the game. Exhibit A: Having Moray walk around with a snake in their boot and giving them rashes.

IK some of Starlo's more wild fans would probably do anything he says and all that, but put yourself in Moray's shoes (or boots I guess would be more appropriate). If your friend made you walk around with a rubber toy in your footwear that gave you a nasty rash, I think you'd be reasonable at least a bit angry at them.

Exhibit B: The Boulder Droppers

They're literal goddam boulders. That shit could've killed someone. Setting them up at a busy mineshaft is reckless enough as it is but leaving them on after you're done using them just makes things even worse.

Exhibit C: Blaming Clover for everything that happened and shooting them over it.

What am I supposed to say? If you hate Ceroba for what she did to Kanako and Clover, keep in mind that Starlo basically did the same exact thing.

Again, this is not me calling Starlo an asshole overall. Yes, he is a good monster deep down and just made some legit mistakes. But my point is, he does have flaws nonetheless and I can't stand people who ignore them. Like, him accepting what he did was wrong and coming to terms with that is one of the best parts of his character! C'mon guys.

And yes, people treat Ceroba as a horrible friend because she wasn't into it and apparently 'hates that part of Starlo' or whatever. If Ceroba actually hated Starlo's obsession with Western culture, do you think she'd indulge in his ramblings on humans?

...or helped him set up all of those wanted posters for him?

...or helping his family search for him when he 'goes missing' during a neutral run?

*sarcastically* Wooooooow, what a horrible friend...

Yes, I understand Ceroba is a very blunt and sarcastic person, but I think because of that, she ends up coming off as harsher than she means to be. Trust me, I can relate to that.

To call her a heartless bitch is a disservice to her character. She does care deep down, even if she isn't that good at showing it.

And hey, she's a mourning widow and mother, I wouldn't blame her for not being good at showing positive emotions.

As for the Feisty Five, our favorite enby fish puts it best themself:

My point is, despite snapping at him, Ceroba and the Feisty Four did not hate Starlo. They understood that his obsession over Western Culture was really important with him. It's made clear that they know he's a good monster deep down, despite his transgressions and were very ready to forgive him.

They just wanted him to dial it back. And yeah, he needed to. Granted, this is targeted at the 'Starlo did nothing wrong' crowd. If you admit that he's pretty heavily flawed but that Ceroba's done worse, I can accept that. Hell, despite me being a Ceroba apologist, I might even agree with you to a degree. But I am a bit tired of the fandom putting him on a pedestal while overhating everyone who remotely criticizes him.

#undertale #undertale yellow #uty starlo #uty ceroba #the feisty five #uty ed #uty ace #uty moray #uty mooch #ranting #fandom critical

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yuna542 · 3 months ago

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Note/Disclaimer at the beginning:

I do not want to romanticize or trivialize (domestic) violence, suicide, drugs, and toxic relationships in this story. If these topics trigger you, then you should rather skip this story. If not, I hope you enjoy the little OBX Story I had in my drafts for forever and I've finally written down. If you are experiencing domestic violence, as hard as it is, tell someone, whether it's a friend, a teacher, or a family member. You are not alone <3

——-

Soundtrack:

⏯️Play: Wait a Minute by WILLOW

“Hold on, wait a minute

Feel my heart's intention, oh Hold on, wait a minute

I left my consciousness in the sixth dimension

Left my soul in his vision”

Prologue

Now I'm sitting here in a hammock in front of an old fishing shack in the swamp, trying to figure out how to tell this story in a structured way while my life is actually a complete mess. Well, before you read this, you should know three things: First of all, Hey! I'm a Kook. But not just any Kook. I’m Skylar Diaz the Kook Princess. At least that's what most people call me, since my family owns one of the largest ferry companies in the US. At least the part of it that's still left. I have built up this reputation over the years and have also lived up to it in a petty and clichéd way. The typical rich spoiled girl living in an estate in the Outer Banks. A brat and arrogant little bitch. The most popular girl at school, desired by all the boys and envied by the rest. With her perfect little family, hip friends, like the Camerons and no money problems at all. The perfect Barbie Dream Life.

But it wasn't always that way. Little Trauma Dump: My father was from the Cut, the South Side of the island. That's where those who make their living as waiters, yacht cleaners or skippers live and work. My mother was also from the Cut, which few people know. She and my dad fell in love and had me. Their perfect little star. My father was a very ambitious man who actually managed to become a police officer and was even promoted to detective on the mainland. However, he died on a job when I was six years old. So I have hardly any memories of him. A short time later, my mother started a relationship with Rick. He was my father's best friend and the richest man in the Outer Banks at that point. So all our money problems were forgotten and I have been raised and lived in a huge mansion in Figure Eigth ever since. The fancy Island Club, big parties and banquets, as well as expensive clothes were now part of my life. I played the role of the rich and arrogant princess flawlessly and knew how to present myself to survive among all the scavengers. And for quite a while I really liked this life.

Next, I should mention: All of this is a lie. Nothing in my life ever went perfectly, even if everyone thought it did. My mother committed suicide when I was only 16 years old. Everything fell apart as a result. My relationship with my stepfather Rick was disastrous even before that, but it got a lot worse in the months after “the incident”, how he liked to call it. I was never allowed to talk about it again and to call it what it was: A big shitty tragedy which ripped my life apart from that point on. We moved away from the Outer Banks and lived in Nassau for a year. Rick had always had a fondness for alcohol, but that year it took on proportions that made my life more than difficult. We never talked about my mother's death again. That was okay, because I didn't understand it anyway and the less I thought about it, the better I felt. Meanwhile, Rick was a violent choleric who couldn't even control himself around his own daughter. My great "friends" stopped contacting me after only a week and had probably forgotten about me even faster.

And last but not least (that’s when the shitshow really started) : We were now moving back after this year and I had no idea what to expect of Kildare. According to Rick there were new business opportunities, but what did he actually tell me? Actually, I didn't care either. With my return began a crazy journey full of chaos, a lot of anger, sadness and no end of adventure. I ran into old friends and things escalated quickly. I learned things about my mother's death that made me more than suspicious, and gradually I began to suspect that her death had not been a suicide after all. My father's death also suddenly seemed to be no longer a coincidence and I learned a lot about my roots and especially about treasure hunting.

Then there were the Pogues and a certain blond boy. My nemesis, who regularly drove me to white heat and equally to madness. But let's start at the beginning:

[-Press Start]

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toomanyrobins2 · 10 months ago

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Our Manhattan

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

24th March, maybe the 25th

Dear Batman,

I don't believe I can be going to Heaven—I am getting such a lot of good things here; it wouldn't be fair to get them hereafter too. Listen to what has happened.

Y/N Abbott has won the short-story contest (a twenty-five dollar prize) that the Monthly holds every year. And she's a Sophomore! The contestants are mostly Seniors. When I saw my name posted, I couldn't quite believe it was true. Maybe I am going to be an author after all. I wish Mrs. Lippett hadn't given me such a silly name—it sounds like an author-ess, doesn't it?

Also I have been chosen for the spring dramatics—As You Like It out of doors. I am going to be Celia, own cousin to Rosalind.

And lastly: Harriet and Barbara and I are going to New York next Friday to do some spring shopping and stay all night and go to the theatre the next day with 'Master Brucie.' He invited us. Harriet is going to stay at home with her family, but Barbara and I are going to stop at the Martha Washington Hotel. Did you ever hear of anything so exciting? I've never been in a hotel in my life, nor in a theatre; except once when the Catholic Church had a festival and invited the orphans, but that wasn't a real play and it doesn't count.

And what do you think we're going to see? Hamlet. Think of that! We studied it for four weeks in Shakespeare class and I know it by heart.

I am so excited over all these prospects that I can scarcely sleep.

Goodbye, Bats.

This is a very entertaining world.

Yours ever,

Judy

PS. I've just looked at the calendar. It's the 28th.

Another postscript.

I saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. Wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story?

7th April

Dear Batman,

Mercy! Isn't New York big? Worcester is nothing to it. Do you mean to tell me that you actually lived in all that confusion? I don't believe that I shall recover for months from the bewildering effect of two days of it. I can't begin to tell you all the amazing things I've seen; I suppose you know, though, since you live there yourself.

But aren't the streets entertaining? And the people? And the shops? I never saw such lovely things as there are in the windows. It makes you want to devote your life to wearing clothes.

Barbara and Harriet and I went shopping together Saturday morning. Harriet went into the very most gorgeous place I ever saw, white and gold walls and blue carpets and blue silk curtains and gilt chairs. A perfectly beautiful lady with yellow hair and a long black silk trailing gown came to meet us with a welcoming smile. I thought we were paying a social call, and started to shake hands, but it seems we were only buying hats—at least Harriet was. She sat down in “front of a mirror and tried on a dozen, each lovelier than the last, and bought the two loveliest of all.

I can't imagine any joy in life greater than sitting down in front of a mirror and buying any hat you choose without having first to consider the price! There's no doubt about it, Bats; New York would rapidly undermine this fine stoical character which the Bowery Home so patiently built up.

And after we'd finished our shopping, we met Master Bruce at Sherry's. I suppose you've been in Sherry's? Picture that, then picture the dining room of the Bowery Home with its oilcloth-covered tables, and white crockery that you can't break, and wooden-handled knives and forks; and fancy the way I felt!

I ate my fish with the wrong fork, but the waiter very kindly gave me another so that nobody noticed.

And after luncheon we went to the theatre—it was dazzling, marvellous, unbelievable—I dream about it every night.

Isn't Shakespeare wonderful?

Hamlet is so much better on the stage than when we analyze it in class; I “appreciated it before, but now, dear me!

I think, if you don't mind, that I'd rather be an actress than a writer. Wouldn't you like me to leave college and go into a dramatic school? And then I'll send you a box for all my performances, and smile at you across the footlights. Only wear a red rose in your buttonhole, please, so I'll surely smile at the right man. It would be an awfully embarrassing mistake if I picked out the wrong one.

We came back Saturday night and had our dinner in the train, at little tables with pink lamps. I never heard of meals being served in trains before, and I inadvertently said so.

'Where on earth were you brought up?' said Harriet to me.

'In a village,' said I meekly, to Harriet.

'But didn't you ever travel?' said she to me.

'Not till I came to college, and then it was only a hundred and sixty miles and we didn't eat,' said I to her.

She's getting quite interested in me, because I say such funny things. I try hard not to, but they do pop out when I'm surprised—and I'm surprised most “of the time. It's a dizzying experience, to pass eighteen years in the Bowery Home, and then suddenly to be plunged into the WORLD.

But I'm getting acclimated. I don't make such awful mistakes as I did; and I don't feel uncomfortable anymore with the other girls. I used to squirm whenever people looked at me. I felt as though they saw right through my sham new clothes to the checked ginghams underneath. But I'm not letting the ginghams bother me anymore. Sufficient unto yesterday is the evil thereof.

I forgot to tell you about our flowers. Master Bruce gave us each a big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. Wasn't that sweet of him? I never used to care much for men—judging by Trustees—but I'm changing my mind.

Yours always,

Y/N

10th April

Dear Mr. Rich-Man,

Here's your cheque for fifty dollars. Thank you very much, but I do not feel that I can keep it. My allowance is sufficient to afford all of the hats that I need. I am sorry that I wrote all that silly stuff about the millinery shop; it's just that I had never seen anything like it before.

However, I wasn't begging! And I would rather not accept any more charity than I have to.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N Abbott

Bruce stared down at the check. He had barely thought about it when they had been out in the city and once Y/n had sent the letter, he’d dispatched the check without a second thought.

Clark Kent, who had been present during the discussion about Y/N's shopping woes, entered the study with a knowing expression. "Having trouble with the whole 'helping' thing?" Clark quipped, a smile playing on his lips.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to make things a bit easier for her. She didn't have to return the check."

Clark leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "Bruce, you know Y/N at this point. She's independent and proud. Accepting help might not come naturally to her, especially from someone like you."

Bruce frowned, the frustration evident in his eyes. "But I want to help. She shouldn't have to feel lesser than her peers."

Clark nodded, understanding Bruce's genuine concern. "Maybe it's not about the help itself, but how it's offered. Try sending her a letter with a short note explaining why you sent the check. Make it personal. Sometimes, a few carefully chosen words can make a big difference."

Bruce considered Clark's suggestion, recognizing the wisdom in his friend's advice. "You think that might work?"

"Y/N's a writer, Bruce. Words matter to her. A thoughtful note can make the gesture feel less like charity and more like a friend looking out for another," Clark explained.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce reached for a pen and paper.

Miss Abbott, I go against my rules by penning this letter but I find myself unable to let this matter go. This check is not charity but a gift from a friend who wishes to see you excel in all matters. I wish you to be able to experience all that your peers are able to. I have never sponsored a woman before and I confess that I lack the knowledge to ensure that you are equal to your peers. I kindly request that you keep this cheque as an apology for my own failings as your patron. Mr. Smith

As Bruce sealed the letter, he handed it to Alfred, who was passing by. "Alfred, make sure this gets to Miss Abbott. And let's hope this time, she accepts it."

#toomanyrobins #batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #battison #battison imagine #dcu #dcu imagine

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hopepetal · 2 years ago

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Welcome to villain Hotguy and the Scarlet Witch! Based off of this post by yours truly! Enjoy!

Hotguy was a very well-known hero. Not only that, but he was well-liked. So much so, in fact, that he was rarely ever out of the public eye. It was hard, after all, to be so famous and still be able to sneak around the city as he once did as a teenager. Not helped at all by his signature colours and outfit that stood out from the general populace, Hotguy always found it quite difficult to visit his boss.

Not his “boss” as the civilians of the city knew it. Hotguy felt his lips curl up in a disgusted sneer just thinking about that fraud that called himself the mayor of the city. It made him sick to his stomach just to recall those fake smiles, pressed suits, greasy hair and poisonous words.

No, his true boss was one he once greatly feared. They had been enemies at one point, even, before Hotguy had discovered the true horrors of the city's council and what they had done to Cuteguy. After a thorough butt-kicking, Hotguy had been offered a place not necessarily by her side, but still on her side. That had been enough for him and he had taken the offer gladly, working under the notorious Scarlet Witch to expose the corruption of the government.

As he walked down the darkened hallway, Hotguy couldn't help but admire the amount of effort that went in to maintaining the “villainous ambiance” if he did say so himself. He wasn't sure if it was more because of the Scarlet Witch being a moth hybrid and therefore a little more sensitive to light than most, but whatever the reason was, the whole low light kind of deal made everything just a little more spooky.

Hotguy's boots clicked against the hard gray floors as he made his way to the large, ornate door. He had never really figured out what the floor was made out of, and had stopped asking after the Scarlet Witch had responded with “the bones of my former soulmates” and winked at him. Which, one, terrifying, and two, he was dating Cuteguy. So. He was fairly certain he was not the Scarlet Witch's soulmate.

Stopping at the door, Hotguy took a deep breath. He raised a hand and knocked once, twice, thrice upon the wooden panels, grabbing the doorknob and pushing at the light “come in!” that rang out from inside. In true Scarlet Witch fashion, she was sitting in a comfortable chair behind a desk, the curtains closed tightly behind her. Hotguy did not question the decision of the builders who put windows in the room of someone as light sensitive as the Scarlet Witch, at least not out loud.

Having donned her signature red cloak and hood along with a white dress shirt tucked into black leggings, the Scarlet Witch wore a light smile on her face. The upper half of her face was covered by the masquerade ball-esque mask not even Hotguy had seen her without, but her expressions came across through her body language. She was happy, having clearly heard about the successful mission Hotguy just returned from. “Take a seat!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the chair across from her on the opposite side of the desk.

Hotguy sat, leaning back in the chair with a bright smile on his face. “Well hello there, Scarlet! Fancy seeing you here!” he said, like he wasn't fully aware that this was the Scarlet Witch's office. “I'm guessing you got the good news?”

The Scarlet Witch nodded, leaning forward and clasping two of her four hands in front of her on the desk. “You found Cuteguy and successfully extracted him from the facility alongside the vigilante Redstone Man?”

“You know it!” Hotguy's smile fell for a moment. “It was pretty bad. We got him to the private hospital though, so he'll be right as rain soon enough!”

The Scarlet Witch hummed thoughtfully, continuing to nod. “I hope that is the case. What is the status of the Listener and the Canary?”

Hotguy shrugged. “Weren't present, so I guess they had bigger fish to fry. I know something was going on downtown but I didn't really pay attention to it. Something about potatoes... Redstone Man vehemently denied any sort of involvement which makes me think he's involved, but hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.”

The Scarlet Witch sighed, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Vigilantes. Always so... interesting.” Her word choice left much to be said, but Hotguy could kinda figure it out from her tone.

“Yep! Life certainly wouldn’t be the same without them!” Hotguy chirped, thinking back fondly on all of his encounters with Redstone Man and Potato Boy. Despite them insisting they were not the same person, Hotguy knew they absolutely were but decided to humor them. “Right, so that was kind of about all I had for now. Did you have a next move for us, or…?”

The Scarlet Witch shook her head. “I should have a plan by our next weekly meeting with the others, but all I wanted to do at the moment was check in with you and make sure my bro- that Cuteguy was alright.” All four of her hands tightened into fists. “I swear that the ones who did this will pay,” she got out from in between clenched teeth, “no one hurts an ally of the Scarlet Witch and gets away with it. No one.”

Hotguy kept the smile on his face despite the fear that ran ice cold through his veins. He held in a shudder as he subconsciously hugged himself. “Right, of course! Same goes for good ol’ Hotguy over here. No one hurts my friends! That’s the Hotguy promise!”

The Scarlet Witch gave him a wry smile. “You’re a good friend, Hotguy, and a good person to have on my side. I’m glad I kicked your butt that day.”

Hotguy let out an exasperated huff. “You only slightly kicked my butt, and I was distracted-!”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure. Let’s go with that.” The Scarlet Witch stood, walking around to Hotguy’s side of the desk. She gestured for him to stand and follow her, and he did, following after as she walked to the door. “I’ll see you at the next meeting, then. I’m heading out myself, but I wish you a safe trip home.” She opened the door and held it for Hotguy before slipping out after him.

Thanking her for the kind gesture, Hotguy nodded. “You as well. Don’t get kidnapped or something, m’kay?”

Although he couldn’t see her face, Hotguy knew she was giving him the most deadpan stare right now. “Yeah, because that’s something I have to worry about.” She turned and began walking away, raising a hand in goodbye without turning back.

Hotguy let out a sigh, and began his own journey back home. He’d have to take the back alleys, of course, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad to have his boyfriend back, even if Cuteguy was in the hospital for the time being. It was a start on the long road to recovery, and Hotguy was optimistic even as he recalled how fragile Cuteguy had been, strapped to the operating table in that paper thin gown, completely oblivious to the world around him.

The image of how Hotguy had found his boyfriend and “nemesis” as the public thought, with Cuteguy being a villain, made his chest ache with a grief he didn’t understand. Cuteguy wasn’t dead, he was alive and on the mend thanks to Hotguy! As he ducked into the alleyway, Hotguy figured it was the self blame coming back to eat at him again. Logically, he knew he had done all he could, but Cuteguy’s capture had still been some of his fault-

Nope! Not thinking about that! Just get home, go pet Jellie, and cry about everything in bed! That sounded like a great plan.

And that was exactly what he did.

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