#kink is a great way to heal from trauma because it helps you take back control over your body and get peace of mind

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

"I am so tired of characters being written OOC during smut, it is so frustrating-"

🥰🤩😚😏

"-this man has a lot of trauma in his past so obviously he wouldn't be into anything kinky, he would only be into vanilla sex."

😑🙄😤🤢

[nalyra-dreaming]

I don't think Louis and Armand's dynamic is kinky either. I guess on paper it would seem that way, but then we hear their voice tone, see their facial expressions and it's never completely passionate, flirty, sensual or delicate either. Sometimes it's not at all. The "I want you more than anything in the world" feels somewhat sweet from Armand's part, but Louis doesn't seem into that. The "are you asking or making me?" scene is just weird. I believe Louis is trying to feel tough and in control again after everything that happened with Lestat, I also think there's some level of dissociation and/or not wanting to fully let Armand in and be vulnerable with him. And I don't blame him, I get where he is coming from. Not to mention how (black) boys are taught by the world to be cold, an Alpha macho man and all that. I guess there might also be some kind of sixth sense in him that knows Armand specifically can't be trusted, even if he's consciousness hasn't fully caught up yet. Like, how sometimes we feel uncomfortable with people/situations and can't figure out why, and then something happens and you realize you instinctively noticed the danger even before your mind was aware, you know? Brain and instinct are funny and who knows how they work when you're a vampire lol. On Armand's side, at least from Assad's acting and interviews I've seen, I get the feeling the sexual abuse he endured is so profound that made him live his life in a dysfunctional way? He can love and be loved, but I don't believe he knows how give and receive it. So he brings back that kind of vocabulary and roles, because it's the reference he has? I know Armand is a hell of manipulator, but I think on those moments he isn't weaponizing it or anything, I just see being vulnerable and working on automatic. And that's not to say Louis is taking advantage of it either, but, like, they're a product of their time, experiences, it's not like vampires have the luxury of therapy and this is just a dysfunctional dynamic of two people with different traumas that never fully healed and don't know how to help each other and their relationship with those stuff (not to mention the manipulation and all their other problems and imminent divorce et all). Not a great comparison, but feels like a parent that knows when their child needs therapy for whatever reason and refuses because they're like "my child is perfect and happy and this is just an inconvenience that will be over soon". Like, even if there wasn't all that other stuff going on, they don't know what the other and that relationship needs. They probably don't even know what they need as individuals. I guess the closest to a D/S dynamic where both people enjoyed was 1x06.

Possibly (and the ask was sent^^).

I think it is a very complicated beast, and instead of trying to formulate it on my own, let me redirect you here, where it was put quite precisely, imho:

Louis was distrustful of Armand, his "inner Lestat" showed that quite plainly. And as such I think the OP of the post hit the nail on the head, neither Louis nor Armand could get what they wanted from the other, and it then shifted into this messy echo of what it could - and maybe should - have been.

[papabearbobbynash]

Hi, it's the anon asking about Bobby earlier. Thank you for the reply 🙏🏻

Yes, I get Athena going to seek revenge. If anything season 7 really shows how Bobby's and Athena's story has intertwined. We get to see that by Bobby's trauma resurfaced again by seeing Amir Athena was also spiralling because she has trauma of losing Emmet her first love. That's why Athena was so scared of losing Bobby. We see her paying attention the his behaviour and able to confront him about it. We get to see the deep love shared by Bobby and Athena. That's what makes their story so beautiful. Two people who are meant to be after they both suffered great losses.

Though i hate to see their house burned down but it's great symbolism for next season when they build a new house together like their building a new chapter of their lives together. Hope Michael would be there to help them rebuild. I miss the shenanigans of Michael and Bobby. Bobby needs a best friend outside of 118.

But back to the finale, why didn't they make it a 2 hour finale. And yes I don't really like the daddy kink conversation right after Buck admitted that Bobby is the father he never had. It would be better if Buck said it in the hospital then Tommy follow that up when they were alone you know. And the finale could end with everyone were at Bobby's bedside and he was just opening his eyes. I love to scene where Athena was running to Bobby. It was a beautiful scene. Personally I would go crazy if they left Bobby in a coma until next season 😅. Maybe have the chief visited Bobby in a hospital declining his resignation but inform the 118 that while Bobby is healing Gerrard would take over. That would be a great cliffhanger.

Thanks papabear 🙏🏻

Hi! Thanks again for asking me 🙏🏻

Oh don't get me wrong, them leaving Bobby's life hanging in the balance for the finale would wreck my stressed mind 😂 (i was spiralling so hard for 3 weeks straight, imagine whole months? I would go insane, but at least i would look forward with much more interest than with that stinky man leading the team in such an anti-climatic reveal).

Idk I think after we get spoiled about a cliffhanger in the finale, that being it was something else (derogatory)... especially by how rushed it was.

Anyway, at least there are indeed stuff to look forward. Hopefully as someone pointed to me, this arc with Gerard might provide us a compensation with 118 realising and reflecting on how close they were of losing Bobby after it's revealed to them he did quit his job. We could get stronger reactions from

Buck: because that is his father and he almost lost him without knowing.

Chimney: who knew about the suicidal mentality Bobby had before and would connect the dots.

Eddie: because as it's pointed in interviews, Bobby is one of his rocks and would be great to see both trying to help each other considering the turmoil they're facing in their lives. I mean Bobby knows in quite literal way what is like to feel you failed your children and Eddie he was in a dark mindset not long ago and would be great to see him help Bobby again like in S5 or to Bobby help him with once again considering what Eddie is going through.

Hen: Knowing how hard she went to rescue him in the beginning of the season, defying orders and all, and how much overshadowed it is their relationship in general, where people believe they're more "besties" due her being Athena's besties, even though Bobby has been quite fatherly to her as well and she admires him, we should definitely get more about it than just a numbed reaction to him in the bed shifting to "where is Athena".

However I hope the storyline with Gerard it's not only about that ofc, because we definitely need the focus on Hen and Chimney regarding that man's behavior as they are the parts most affected by this change in the line of command considering their history with that a**ole, and i would be pissed off if the writers ignored their mindsets on that.

Also talking about Athena. I believe she spiraling due Bobby's behavior and acting recklessly was more from her reminding of May's suicidal attempt than from Emmet. I think she started to notice the signs Bobby was giving and panicked, because she knew exactly what was the road he was walking into. I think Emmet callback only hit her in the hospital since she woke up and had the impression Bobby might not wake up, what is basically the same way Emmet was gone. She only knew when he was already dead, when she couldn't do anything to prevent his death and was only left to pick the pieces of a painful enigma that was to find the culprit, because this was the only thing she could do for Emmet. So yeah I think in terms of emotional work we actually got quite great Athena work regarding how she faced the possibility of losing Bobby, because she was going through it, even if it was mixed up with a very questionable behavior (although i expected it because she has been like this since S1) Ending this with happier thoughts! I can't wait for bathena house hunting shenanigans, the domesticity of it all, more May and Harry, maybe they even bring Charlie for the picture (although they could have done this in this season to bridge Bobby's childhood flashback in a stronger meaningful way than the desert) but mostly important, I hope a better insight in how are they doing after their argument, in how they are dealing with the dark mindset Bobby just went through, because almost dying twice in a spam of 2 months is not a proper or recommended way of solving communication problems 😂

[blink-blank-bliss]

Hey Blissy your turn. I hear you are: "Neural Nets and Pretty Patterns owned voice actress and pleasure puppet"

Some odd questions for you:

Would you desrcibe yourself as being in a bdsm relationship that uses hypnosis as a tool like a Dom-sub relationship + hypno, Or a Hypno-Domination H-D/s relationship? Just curious how you'd define it - because you seem happy and you guys are still going strong, or is it a Hypno relationship +D/s?

Could you say please what the most important part of the hypnotic relationship is - like the thing that makes the hypnosis most effective for you?

Could you also please say what submission means to you, what are the core components for submission to be happening?

Thank you in advance x x x

Hi Doll! It's always a pleasure to hear from you and I'd be happy to answer your questions, I apologize to any reader who actually plows through this whole thing for what may be a little too much of a glimpse behind the curtain at Actual Me and not the public face of Bliss, but oh well, I don't really get a lot of serious questions and I am delighted that you've asked me, so buckle up here we go.

I don't think I would use any of those terms to describe my relationship with Neural. We are primarily romantic partners and best friends, and we work together to create weird kinky artsy audio porn stuff. He's the creator, but I do a lot behind the scenes to help keep the content coming and I take my job as Cunt Muse seriously. Yes, we have kinky sex and it's fucking great, but it's just a small part of a relationship between equals. He has, however, spent a lot of time inside my mind, as I have in his. It's given our relationship something that I guess I would call ...mental intimacy? haha that sounds gross idfk. But I've never really had this before and can't imagine having it with someone else. The content is a part of it, I love acting and he just writes me the most fun roles to play. haha in the one we are working on now I play the most sadistic nun ever, it's so cathartic, I swear I'm healing generational trauma doing it haha. Getting to explore all of that together is really sexual and really hot but it's not like ... hypnosis. I love having wild kinky trancey scenes with him and he is a wonderful dom, knows how to push my buttons just the right way to take me apart and always makes sure to put me back together after, but it's not as important to me as it is that he has made me laugh every day for over 5 years without fail or that he can write me a part to play in a script that will both highlight my talent and turn me on.

I think the most important part of the hypnotic relationship is trust. I trust him and he trusts me. I know he is committed to being good to me and good for me, as I am for him. He's proven it to me through haha some honestly insane shit storms of life and I know I have proven it to him. And we've been at it long enough that we've seen the proof, both of us are better stronger people than we were before we met. This is what makes us equals, but it's also what makes it possible for him to slide inside my mind like he's coming home and make me into nothing but his. For a time at least.

ok so this is a two-parter. Part 1. What does submission mean to me? So ok I am old. I came out as queer and kinky in a world where to be kinky you had to put on a latex dress and go in person to what they called an "S & M Club". It was terrifying but thrilling. But as far as kink goes, I'm a little jaded at this point. I feel like I've literally seen it all. I've been to at least 50 kink conventions of all varieties. I've taught classes, hosted infamous dungeon parties, demo dollied, bootblacked, partied with all manner of kinky people. but like.... I'm fucking old and I did it already. Now yes, I am still submissive, I am still a masochist, but I just don't have anything left to prove to myself or anyone else about it. Submission has been a part of who I am for more than half my life now, but at this point, it's pretty much just a sex thing for me. I mean yeah I call Neural Owner or Daddy when we play, and yeah it was hot as hell when I asked him to choose my new hair color, but it's for fun and a sex thing. Part 2 is pretty cut and dried. I'm jumping over the safety speech part here and just say that I'm only talking about power exchange that I would consider RACK. But for submission to occur there has to be some kind of agreement that you are going to give up your power to another for a period of time in some agreed upon way. That's what we mean when we talk about consent really. it's what makes healthy power exchange possible, without that it's all various degrees of abuse and codependency and people making each other into less than they are. Gross. I'm also going to answer a question that you didn't ask, but my advice to any submissive but especially those getting into it: -sit down with yourself and really decide what your values are, what your limits are, what your needs are, physically emotionally mentally before you go giving your precious self away to a dom. - Sub frenzy is a thing, it's crazy, I've been there, but it is Not Real and it will fade, take your time in establishing relationships and making commitments no matter how hot the scenes are. -No matter how much you worship them, your doms will remain human. Humans have limits on their time and their energy. Humans are not all-knowing. Humans get sick. Humans make mistakes. Don't put divinity level expectations on your human partner. It's a set up, no one can live up to it.

[shadowscommand]

ooooh farah and alex, do you have any headcanons and thoughts on them? i hope we get to see them back in the new season raid!!

oh my god like a million. i really do think about them a lot but since they're very sweet i don't tend to post about them a ton y'know I'm bad w fluff :P. but YEAH alexfarah (sfw mainly but some nsfw at the end):

Alex had to be coerced to actually admit his feelings to her. not because he doesn't love her but bc he was too worried about bothering her bc she's Constantly busy. once he was healed and working with warcom they still were not together. only because of talking to Mara and Morte and Wyatt did he get the courage to ask her out.

she sends him good morning texts ! every day ! it's part of her routine. shes p much always awake before him so she never misses apart from missions and things.

ive said this in a post before but i think alex is very interested in music. he listens to new artists often and sends songs farah's way when he thinks she'll like something.

farah in general doesn't have a ton of interests (she doesn't have the TIME or the focus to get deep into something that isn't work) but alex does. she loves listening to him explain the layers of a game, a tv show, or music just to hear him talk about something he has genuine care for.

farah makes great, great coffee. alex cant have coffee made by anyone else because he constantly just thinks 'meh. not as good as farahs.'

she doesn't baby him about his leg but she is very serious about him taking care of the skin on his stump. she will avidly remind him to get lotion for the skin there so it won't be dry and cracked and irritated when he goes to put his prosthetic on. she does also sometimes help him bathe (he doesn't need the help but he is not going to say no to taking a shower with farah)

farah isn't huge on pda and alex really isnt either. at most they hold hands and sit closer than most others. in private though, farah almost always has a leg or two over alex's. hes very much the little spoon.

farah does suffer from night terrors and sleep paralysis. she normally does Not Sleep well bc of these but its nicer when alex is there with her. he tends to her after she wakes up either in a panic or frozen in place.

nsfw section (tw for very vague mentions of past sexual assault):

farah has trauma related to sex so she likes to stay mostly clothed during. tank top/t shirt staying on is a must. alex is unbothered by this and tries to stay very conscious of how farah is feeling in the moment.

alex is very open-minded in terms of things hes into. he dabbles into bdsm and degradation kinks/name calling and such but he doesn't bring that up to farah very much for fear of unsettling her.

however, farah does not like to feel babied. she does not like to think alex is holding back for her sake. she grew very comfortable with alex very quickly and that includes calling him out when she feels like he's making decisions for her during sex.

BUT ! because of this their sex life is very healthy. alex knows what farah is curious about. he himself was very excited to get farah into pegging and he gets pegged every chance they get. strap game off the charts.

[aimfor-theheart]

COIN TOSS– PART III

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I → PART II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read on Ao3

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mentor is busy with this villain’s accomplice.

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

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

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

Tomura stops breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eraserhead shouts for you.

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

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

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

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

Did you–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“You destroyed his Quirk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’re betraying him, your mind hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to.”

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

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

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

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

“What would your heroes think then?”

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

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

“What?” you ask, suddenly shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s worse because he ends up being right.

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

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

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

***

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

They offer up criminals to practice on.

It turns your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know– no, I don’t think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare up at him, a little surprised but–

Relief sweeps through you, sweet and cool.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Specifically, your precious mentor.

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

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

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

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

The inevitable crash and break.

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

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

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

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

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

He knows he destroys everything he touches.

But you were supposed to be different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he demands quietly.

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

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

He knows what his name means.

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

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

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

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

You have rendered him silent.

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

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

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

You were just a kid, you know?

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

The way All For One was there for him.

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

But you save the wrong person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not listening, though, of course.

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

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

Tomura stumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomura sways.

You’re dropped.

You stumble away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he also knows what he needs to do.

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

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

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

“I– I don’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomura–” you sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you exhale slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Shouta, however, is not as easily convinced.

Not after so many strange occurrences with Tomura.

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

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

You saved her.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

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

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

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

Your eyes well up with fresh tears.

“I-I told you.” you choke out.

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

Your stomach drops. Your tears fall harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was going to kill her.”

This stops Shouta. He goes very, very still.

“What?” he rasps softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

It is easier to be with Tomura than Shouta now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks shaken.

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

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

He swallows hard. He looks angry and hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants it back. He wants it back.

***

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

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

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

“H-hello,” she trembles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

You never told him you loved him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The question feels too large for you.

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

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

(That isn’t true and you know it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss getting my ass kicked by you.

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

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

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

And mostly, you are terrified to be without them.

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

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

(Like Tomura–)

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

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

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

***

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

But Dabi mentions you to Hawks.

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

Tomura also mentions Hawks to you.

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

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

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

Surely, it looks that way.

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

You killed someone.

Your stomach squeezes tight.

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

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

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

You think running will make it look all the worse.

Besides, he’s fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know you’re in deep trouble now;

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

***

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

Your mind has not slowed since you got here.

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

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

But they’re young, with feelings and thoughts and lives and pasts.

Nobody ever mourns us.

No, they don’t, you think, trying to keep away bitter tears from springing to your eyes. They don’t bother trying to see the big picture, they don’t bother to try and figure out why villains are on the rise.

They can’t stomach the idea that maybe their precious hero system has given birth to their villains.

Or maybe they can and they just don’t care.

They need heroes for their charts and money and power, don’t they? So they need villains. A never ending cycle, forever going around on this carousel. You’re dizzy with it, you’re sick of it, caught up in it’s riptide.

You don’t look at Tomura Shigaraki and see the most dangerous, wanted criminal in the country. You see a twenty-year-old pawn, a chip in a bigger game. You see someone as starving and desperate as you were.

You see a coin flip.

(You see the person you fell in love with–)

Shouta enters silently and the moment you see him, you have to try to keep from bursting into tears. Your lip wobbles.

He approaches slowly, cooly, but when he gets near you, his eyes are livid and searching your face, like maybe he could finally find the lies you’d kept buried so deep inside of you. They’ve finally blossomed, you think, all of them sprouting from your body, creeping through your lungs and up your throat to choke you out.

“Tell me the truth finally.” Shouta says, sharp and icy. He speaks like he’s speaking to a criminal, “Now.”

You suck in a shaky breath, try not to flinch when he leans across the metal table and snarls, “And if you are a traitor, at least have the decency to tell me now, before they come in here and interrogate both of us.”

Tears catch in your lashes.

Through the throbbing of your head, you realize you have jeopardized Shouta in the way you never wanted.

“I’m not a traitor.” you get out, voice quiet but firm, barely above a whisper.

“No?” Shouta clips and you can see it now, the hurt in his eyes. He feels betrayed, deeply so, and you can’t even blame him. “Hawks says differently. Says you’ve been working with Shigaraki.”

You rub furiously at your cheek to try and keep the tears from falling, shaking your head quickly, “No–”

“Then what happened?” he snaps and through the blur of your own tears, you catch the way his own eyes glisten.

“I didn’t tell you everything, when I said I thought Shigaraki was stalking me.” you say, having readied this lie the moment that Hawks brought you to the Hero Commission’s doors. You give them the story they want to hear of you, not the one where you fell in love, but the one where you jeopardize yourself for them. You are careful to peer up at him through damp lashes, “I–I got close to him, because he let me, because he was interested in me.”

Shouta goes very, very still. All you can see is his chest rising and falling, quick, as he slowly begins to walk the path you’re leading him down.

“And I thought he might tell me his plans, I thought that I could help–”

“No,” Shouta says in disbelief as it all begins to connect, leaning away from you in shock, “Please tell me you didn’t–”

You lurch towards him slightly, naturally, your hands coming up to the table like you’re reaching for him. “I wanted to prove I could do this–” you choke out, voice breaking, “I wanted to prove I could do undercover work like you wanted– like they wanted!”

“What were you thinking?” he hisses in return.

“You never would’ve let me do this!” you snap, almost plead with him, and it must strike true because he looks away from you momentarily, “I-I saw an opening so I tried to take it– I was perfect for it. Shigaraki was interested in me. I used to be a thief. I would’ve fit in.”

The moment you say it, you realize how true it rings. It startles you, maybe, with how close you were. Almost, but didn’t, your coin doing an extra rotation in air. And why didn’t you? Why not be with Tomura now? Why not be where you fit in most? Where hero society wanted and expected you to be?

“I’m not a traitor,” you cry, tears tracking down your cheeks freely now– you think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as Shouta now, “I promise I’m not a traitor– I couldn’t do that to you. O-or Shinsou. Or Eri–”

And there is your reason. The truth to disguise your lies. You look at him, across from you, his face almost unreadable, with his furrowed brows and tense jaw. His eyes shine, though, gleam with unshed tears as he listens to you. The man who gave you everything, who has cared for you since the moment he found you– perhaps the sole reason your coin has flipped in their favor. All because he did more than what was asked of him, because maybe he just saw someone starving, too, like the way you did with Tomura.

Believe me, you plead, believe this.

There is a long stretch of silence after that, where all you can get in is hiccuping breaths.

Finally, Shouta asks, “Did you find anything out about him? Or the League of Villains?”

You exhale hard with relief, your shoulders finally falling. You collapse somewhat, exhausted, folding in on yourself.

You hang your head, then shake it slowly, “No,” you sniffle, wipe at your drippy nose, “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t trust me.”

Shouta eyes you warily.

“So that’s why you encountered him so much. That’s why you were there with Toga Himiko when–” Shouta cuts himself off when he sees your wince, the shuddering of your features at the mention of that incident. But he finally put all of the pieces together. All the pieces you’ve given him, at least.

You nod, stray tears falling quick, dripping off your chin, “I’m sorry for lying,” you get out, “I hated it— I hated lying to you.”

Truth.

Shouta throws you a hard look, “You shouldn’t have. It was dangerous and irresponsible. And now look at what you’ve done–”

Your stomach knots up tightly.

“I thought I could handle it.” You breathe and there is another truth, sprinkled throughout your lies.

But you were so horribly wrong–

Shouta is about to open his mouth again, but the door swings open and a man in a suit enters slowly. His gaze is cool as it falls on you and Shouta. You know this isn’t the end of your conversation with him, you know he wants to know more. But now, he focuses on the higher up that encourages him to sit, too.

He says, because Shouta has been such an upstanding hero and teacher, they are allowing him the courtesy of explaining everything now.

And then you watch as Shouta opens his mouth and lies and lies and lies for you.

He tells them that it was his idea to allow you to get close to Shigaraki. He knew, every step of the way. He tells them he bypassed speaking with a committee at the Hero Commission’s because it would’ve taken too much time. He says that they needed to act quickly and accordingly.

He takes the brunt of it, saves you from far more trouble. He’s a trusted hero. You’re an ex-thief in the eyes of the Hero Commission with a too-big Quirk. They won’t believe you and truthfully, if they did more digging, if they pried more, there is a chance that the truth might leak out of you, open like a wound.

Shouta protects you, the way he always has. You don’t deserve it and you can feel your heart tearing itself to shreds.

You know you can’t go back to Tomura, not after all this.

You watch Shouta lie for you, speak for you, get you out of the grave you have dug yourself. For the second time in your life, Shouta saves you. You try to hold back more tears, you try to hold back from throwing yourself onto him, clinging to him.

And finally, they ask, “Did you learn anything, then? About Shigaraki Tomura?”

He likes sour candy. He has trouble sleeping. He drinks too many energy drinks. There is a scar at the corner of his lip. He has a beauty mark on his chin. He is desperate and starved of love. He let’s a kitten sleep in the sunlight of his apartment. He tries to take care of the League to the best of his ability– he cares about them more than he will admit. He is not heartless. His hands are often cold but seeking, longing for what he can’t have.

Your eyes well up with tears but you take a slow, steadying breath. They don’t want those pieces of him, the human, messy ones. No, they want to know how evil he is, how diabolical his next plan is going to be. But you don’t know any of that, just that he holds you as if he never wants to let you go when you fall asleep at night.

So you’re not lying when you say;

“I don’t know anything about Shigaraki Tomura.”

Only that he wanted to be a hero– when he was a kid.

***

The days following are the worst between you and Shouta.

He doesn’t trust you anymore. You can’t fight him. You have nothing to say, which is perhaps worse than if you tried to fight with him.

There’s no defending you, especially if Shouta even knew half of the truth. He barely speaks with you some days.

He wedges the distance between you two wide, forces it apart further.

He does not comfort you, he does not hold you when you cry this time. He’s not there with soothing, hushed words or the gentle touch of his hand to your cheek.

A piece of his trust is broken, now so severely that it’s just a jagged edge, something you don’t think can ever be soothed.

(And you’re right, in some way– there’s a deep shift in your relationship with him, changed and scarred. It never returns to what you once had, when your life was very simple and all you knew was him.)

He doesn’t ever say, I forgive you. I will trust you again, in time.

But he eventually will make dinner for you again and you will sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder at his table with a respectable, lonesome distance between his heart and yours.

Nothing is ever the same again.

You think about running– from Shouta, from Tomura, from all of it. It would be the easiest option, where you never have to look either in the face again.

But the Hero Commission looks at Eri the same way they looked at you when they discovered you could destroy Quirks and you can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to them.

(Tomura was right in a lot of ways.

And when there’s a war on the horizon and the Hero Commission seeks to use you as a weapon, you will think of him again.

I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want, he’d said to you once. And he did.

You hate the system, the endless cycle, Prometheus chained to his rock, the need of villains to have heroes, the creation of heroes to make villains. The endless bodies, the using and discarding of real, human lives for a greater good. You wish you could destroy it.

But there is more than only destruction, too. What good is rubble and ruin and death?)

You stay so you can do what you can, so you can protect a child with red eyes, with silver hair, and a Quirk too big for their own body.

And you think maybe if you stay with her, it makes up for leaving Tomura.

***

You go to Tomura one last time, walk the distance to his apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. It’s a familiar walk now. The pavement is wet from rain. It’s cold out. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You wonder how he’ll react– for a moment, you’re fearful. Will he lash out? For a moment you wonder if he’ll try to kill you.

But you know, deep down, he wouldn’t. Won’t.

And you won’t pretend you’re scared of him now. You won’t play the innocent hero, not in front of him.

The moment Tomura sees you, he knows something has changed. You are too expressive and now you look at him with a sense of foreboding. With a sadness that he feels uncomfortable gazing at.

You tell him, “I got in trouble with the Hero Commission.”

For a moment, he lets his hope grow and stretch inside of him. Maybe this is finally your turning point, your fall from grace that he will catch you on. But no, your lip wobbles and your eyes dart away.

“I can’t see you anymore,” you whisper.

At first, he wants to snap at you, hiss out something cruel between his bared teeth. Maybe if you had done this a few years ago, a few months ago, he would lash out, try to tear into his neck or you or the world. He thinks about hurting you, slamming you against a wall or–

The thought is unfortunately repulsive to him. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not like that.

His anger and resentment wells inside of him, swarms his chest viciously. He wants to argue, to point out every way your heroes have failed you. The world feels so absurdly unfair suddenly, to give him you– you who quiets his Quirk and touches him gently and winds your arms around him in the way he likes so much– only to then take you away, too. You who destroys with a touch, too. Who is perfect at his side.

But for all his work and care and strategy, he can’t get you to stay.

You will run back to your heroes.

You don’t need him, he realizes now. But you have his rib, tucked away inside of you. He wants to dig into you, pry it out, rip it from your body and take it back for himself.

But you’re crying.

And you’re pretty in the dark, like you’ve always been. This time, though, you’re not looking for a fight, there is no viciousness in you now. Maybe you’re too tired to fight.

So instead of erupting, instead of lashing out, Tomura steels himself. He’ll play the longer game, then. You don’t want to go, but you will. You’ll go back to your heroes and they will disappoint you. As they always do, at some point, eventually.

You will come back to him again, he tells himself.

And he will be forgiving, the way All For One has been with him. He sees it now; you, needing his hand, needing him to take you back. He will welcome you back into his arms, as if you hadn’t even left, and you will know then that you were right to leave.

He gazes at you, red eyes smoldering, “Then don’t.” he rasps and he’s trying to remain dispassionate, but his voice has a trembling note in it, the hidden fear underneath the harsh coolness.

Your eyes flicker back to him, your lips parting in surprise. You wipe at your eyes.

“So that’s it?”

And this makes him angry, the sharp tug of it like a dog at the end of it’s leash. He lurches forward threateningly, like he might hurt you.

(You don’t flinch. And he stops himself before he gets too close.)

“What?” he snaps, “Did you want me to beg for you to stay?”

He wants to, he realizes, he wants to howl and scream and tear apart everything in sight. He wants to say don’t go, don’t go, don’t slip from me, too.

He wants to bargain with you– what is it he can’t give you that they can?

Your heroes only love you because they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve done. Your heroes only love you as far as truth and justice go. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good and you would agree with them, even if you were shaking and crying, even if you burned with all that liveliness.

But he’d sooner sacrifice the world for you.

You have his rib, he wants to scream, of course he wants to beg.

You shake your head, though, more tears falling free, “No,” you say, voice surprisingly strong, “No, I never made you beg.”

The truth of it burrows beneath his skin. He knows. The itch squirms beneath his skin. His hand reaches up, digs into the crook of his neck to scratch at it.

It’s Dabi’s voice in his head that says something about getting too distracted with this braindead hero. He has bigger plans than hiding in an abandoned apartment with you. More to do. You were nothing but a side quest.

His pause screen.

Besides, what’s there to be upset about? You’ll come back.

He won’t even punish you for leaving, he promises. He promises.

“Then that’s it.” Tomura tells you, a bitter curl to his lips.

There’s no goodbye, just the breeze between the two of you, the empty space that he always hated. The nothingness between that he always sought to destroy.

Eventually, he just turns away from you. He can’t stomach looking at you any longer. He can feel your eyes pressing into his retreating form– he imagines you rushing for him, crashing into his back to throw your arms around his middle. You can’t do it, you’ll cry, burying your face between his shoulder blades. And he’ll freeze, but eventually he’ll wrap his arms around yours and bow his head with the strength of your feelings for him.

Or he imagines later, when it’s the end of the world, and you emerge from the rubble to reach for him. It’ll be like his dreams, when the sky is falling, and you only want to hold his hand in yours.

He imagines you shouting to him, changing your mind, saying his name like it’s a song to sing, not mourning bells, not a curse or an affliction.

But none of it happens.

And when he turns around, you are gone.

You leave his life as viciously as you entered it, suddenly there, all furious and beautiful, and now gone, like a lightning strike, like a lifetime.

***

You tell yourself you’re going to be fine, but you spend random days weeping over a villain. You spend long nights awake, missing him, replaying it all in your mind. You cover all your mirrors. You try to be different. You wish you could say you regret ever getting involved with him, but it would be one more lie. You wish for the time before the worst of it, the strange honeymoon you never should’ve had.

You wish you’d remembered to slow down, to savor it all a little more. You try to remember what your first kiss was like and the shade of his eyes through the evening light of an abandoned warehouse.

You try to remember when you didn’t feel so heavy, so corrosive and lost.

It doesn’t help that you’re suspended from heroing; a choice made by both the Hero Commission and Shouta. There’s nothing for you to do some evenings.

Shouta lets you train with him and Shinsou still. Shinsou tries to cheer you up, though he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you. Still, it hurts because he’s trying. It hurts because he cares so much, even about you.

You don’t deserve it, after everything.

You take care of Eri more, too, now that she is nearly in Shouta’s care. You babysit her while he’s away. You grow close with her, fiercely protective of the young girl, careful to keep the Hero Commission at a distance from her. She settles in your lap on the couch in Shouta’s apartment most evenings, watching TV and movies, while he grades papers at the opposite end.

Sometimes she falls asleep tucked into your side. You stroke her silver hair and try to bite back tears.

She catches you, sometimes, perceptive as she is, and asks very gently, “Why are you sad?” even if a tear hasn’t slipped free yet.

And you always shake your head, trying to dispel the thought of Tomura and the parents that gave him such a tragic name as a child. You force a smile for her and you tell her something silly to distract her, “I’m not,” you promise, “I just think there’s an onion nearby.”

She wrinkles her nose at this, “No, there isn’t!” but she’s easily distracted with tickles or the promise of painting her nails or having a tea party with Shouta.

Miraculously, your relationship with Shouta begins to heal, despite your betrayal. You think he can tell something worse happened to you during your time with Tomura, you think he can tell that you’re hurting, so he ends up gentler with you. He doesn’t trust you, though, keeps you on a tight leash. He looks at you some days like he isn’t quite sure he knows you.

Nothing is the same. Part of you wants to regret it. The part of you that loves Tomura can’t stomach the idea of regretting it. Someone is dead because of you. Someone is alive because of you, too.

But Shouta doesn’t ask and you don’t tell, can’t seem to speak the words.

You can’t even say, I fell in love, can’t speak the truth because it is so horrible.

And you know what everyone would ask; who could love the likes of him?

Me, you think, vehement and grief-stricken, me, you think defiantly. Why couldn’t you? He was a child once–

Shouta lets you burrow into his chest, wraps his arms around you. He sways with you in the kitchen until you can keep back your tears, until your heart has slowed to the tempo of his. He kisses the top of your head.

And it’s Shouta who is with you, when you return from training, and open the door to your apartment to reveal a scruffy, mangy looking grey kitten that wasn’t there when you left.

Ryuji chirps happily at you, rushing to the open door.

For a moment, you’re so shocked that all you can do is stand, startled, as he rubs himself against your legs.

“Don’t tell me you found another stray–” Shouta starts, but all you get out is a small, choked noise.

And here is the impact from the fall, you think, looking at that little cat that is excitedly winding itself around your legs. You can feel the shattering of your heart, like he’d lobbed it against the wall. You wonder if it catches light the same way glass does, all stained with color and broken into shards.

You drop to the floor with the weight of it all, with the clean splitting of your heart.

The moment Ryuji climbs into your lap, a sob finally ruptures out of you.

Shouta is fast, coming down beside you, you think he’s asking what’s wrong, why you’re crying, but you’ve already gathered the kitten into your arms, cradling him to your chest as the tears come quick and furious down your cheeks.

You think maybe you should be more concerned as to how he got Ryuji here, in U.A. dorms, you should be worried about security and safety but all you’re thinking about is that little apartment that you hid from the world with him in.

No, all you’re thinking about is the way light fell through the lone window to turn him hazy and soft in your memory. You’re thinking about how he never denied you affection, so long as you gave it tenfold in turn. The drawl of his voice. The pressing of his fingers into your skin like you were a miracle.

To him, you were.

Another sob spills out of you, from somewhere deep inside you.

What a lonely life, to only be able to touch one person in certainty. You wonder who will be the next person that will lay their hands gently on a body that has known too much pain. You wonder if you will be the last person to do it.

The thought hurts, opens up a part of you that is tender and shaking and desperately furious.

When Shouta can’t figure out what’s wrong with you or why you’re crying, he gives up, and sits on the floor with you. He gathers you into his lap so your back is pressed to his chest, pushing your head beneath his chin, Ryuji still cradled in your arms.

You cry harder when Shouta tries to comfort you, when he hushes softly, so sweetly, only because you don’t think there’s anyone to comfort Tomura like this.

You think of Tomura alone, even without Ryuji and it just–

Crushes you.

You squeeze the kitten tighter to your chest as you cry and cry and cry. You let Shouta hold you against him, but there’s no comfort in the aching hollowness that is growing in the pit of your chest.

You want to scream at the world that tossed the coin.

But all that comes out is a garbled, misery struck, cry.

You never told him you loved him, never gave word to what consumed you. And you realize, sitting on the floor with a kitten in your arms, that you won’t ever be able to tell him now.

It will live and die inside of you, never spoken into existence.

And even though it’s too late and Tomura Shigaraki is readying for a battle with a giant without you at his side, you still whisper the words you never got to speak into the top of Ryuji’s head.

Your lips barely move with it, the quietest, most desperate, “I love you– I loved you.” that escapes you with a trembling breath.

Shouta doesn’t even hear the confession.

Ryuji nudges your cheek with his, though, purring softly, keeping your secret safe.

And in the least, you are able to twist into Shouta’s arms and bury your face in his chest to cry as hard as you need. There’s no distance between the two of you now, like you always wanted.

Always here when you need him, even now, when it’s not him you want.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

You mumble incoherent apologies into his shoulder, try to hide in him, like he might be able to shield you from all the hurt and ache of your first love. He doesn’t ask, but he tells you very gently, his voice like the hearth of your home, “If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be there for you.”

You keep Ryuji, clean him up, fit him with a new collar, a new life. Shouta helps you care for him.

Eri adores the kitten, hugging him to her smiling face every time she sees him. Thankfully Ryuji is even-tempered, eager for affection. Almost desperate for it.

Ryuji is like proof of another world, proof that it all happened.

Sometimes you rub between his ears and ask, “Do you miss it, too?” but all he does is peer at you inquisitively, eyes large and fixed on you.

You sleep with him, though, let the kitten curl up in your lonesome arms, hold tight to him the way you used to hold tight to Tomura.

***

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you with its insistent chime and buzzing. You blink awake sleepily, slowly and blindly paw for your phone.

You turn the screen towards you and squint at the bright light, making out the word that flashes on it;

Unknown Caller.

You grimace, rubbing at your eyes. You debate putting your phone down, letting it ring and go to voicemail. Why should you answer for an unknown caller in the middle of the night?

And yet, something in you squirms, urges you to pick up. You have no idea who it might be— maybe someone needs your help. Is it possible it’s Shouta? Shinsou? What if it’s—

You answer finally, groggy voice slurring out, “Hello?”

You’re met with static.

“Hello?” you say again, voice hushed with sleep.

Still nothing.

Tomura sits on the other side, with the phone pressed desperately to his ear. He holds everything inside of him, barely allows himself to breathe on the other end.

He doesn’t know why he’s done this, only that he is on his way to proving himself with the League and he wishes you were still at his side.

He swallows, hears you call again, “Hello? Anyone there?”

He tightens his four-finger grip on the phone, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, sleepy and soft in his ear, wrapping around the jagged parts of his heart.

He exhales and you must hear it because you say, “Is someone there?”

He bites back an answer, feels his lip tremble slightly.

He hears you huff, indignant little thing that you are and his lips pull into a shaky, painful smile. “I’m going to hang up now,” you say, all prickly, the way you’d get if he woke you too soon.

He used to soothe you with lips and teeth and tongue, run diligent fingers over you until you were sighing and arching into his touch. Until all your hard, vicious edges softened with the flattening of his palm on your body.

And for some reason you try, one last time into coaxing him to answer, “C’mon,” you say, almost like you know, “Nothing?”

Nothing, he wants to echo, but doesn’t.

His heart pounds an uneasy rhythm, a haunted tempo. He feels himself shaking again.

“Okay,” you exhale, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to stop you, “Goodbye.”

A beat passes, before he feels his heart lurch painfully in the hollow place of his chest at the thought of not hearing your voice again like this, so near. He doesn’t want you to go, wants to listen to you until it coaxes him to sleep.

“Wait– don’t hang up–“ Tomura hisses into the phone at the last moment, unable to decide if he wants you to hear him or not.

He gets his answer in the buzzing silence, long and drawn out, that fills his head. His heart.

And he sits there with his phone still in hand and his heart still on the line.

***

Tomura shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching you from afar, in the park that he thought you’d looked like a painting in. You’re beautiful.

But what does someone like him know about beauty, anyways?

The fireburst leaves are nearly gone, barely clinging to lone and stark branches. They claw up into the sky now, but the sun is shining. It’s mid-morning. You’re in the park with your mentor, with the violet haired boy he’d seen you with before, and the little girl with silver hair. The one that was in Overhaul’s care, with the devastating Quirk.

She tugs excitedly at your sleeve now and you give her your undivided attention, your face lighting up with whatever it is she tells you.

You scoop her into your arms and her echoing giggle is like wind chimes, melodic and childish and care-free.

You look happy, he thinks, with your mentor’s hand on the small of your back, looking down at you and the girl fondly. The violet-haired boy says something that makes the girl laugh, it makes you smile as you watch her.

You look back at your mentor with a look that Tomura has come to know; one that begs of attention and approval and affection. He can see the desperate glint to your eyes, hungry for his love.

He swallows around the sharp bitterness he feels. Jealousy floods him in a way he has never fully known. But it’s more than just jealousy for you and your attention, for the way you’re looking at your mentor.

No, it’s something greater, far worse.

He’s jealous of your mentor, with the easy way he gets to touch and look at you out in public. But he’s also jealous of you and your life.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s begun to shake.

Because you were saved– isn’t that it? You were saved. And he wasn’t.

Maybe he’s jealous of the boy with you, too, with the possibility of his life so much brighter already. He has more of a chance than Tomura ever had.

Or maybe it’s the girl in your arms, with eyes like his, who he is most jealous of now. He has never allowed himself to ask;

Why couldn’t it be me?

But now he does and he can feel the pit in his chest grow with a livid sort of despair. Grief for a life never lived. Didn’t he deserve to be saved, too? Like the girl in your arms? Like you? Didn’t he deserve a life like this, too? What’s the difference? He wants to demand it, what’s the difference?

You were just a kid, you know?

His fingers dig into his neck. There is no one to stop him from breaking skin, for drawing blood on his own body. His chest festers, angry, like a blister. His stomach turns, his body trembling harder, like he’s a child, like he’s going to shake apart.

He looks at your smiling face, the curve of your lips, and wants you so bad it hurts. He wonders if you ever dreamt of him as a hero, the way he dreams of you as a villain. He wonders why it feels so unfair suddenly, the turning of your lives, the coming together and falling apart.

He shudders, feels the sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to mourn you, when you left him. He told himself that there was nothing to mourn; either you would be back or you weren’t worth it. He feels the pressure of tears now, though, much to his frustration. He feels his lungs burn for breath as he watches you hand the little girl off to your mentor, who props her onto his hip easily.

He watches you throw your head back and laugh, the sound of it distant, but he catches it, the outskirts of it. He used to feel that laugh against his throat, against his lips.

But now he watches you live a life he apparently never deserved.

His bottom lip trembles, a furious scowl marring his face.

He could scream or shout at a world that wouldn’t listen. The fact of it all, the helplessness of it all, burns beneath his skin like wildfire, like acid.

Tomura takes one last look at you; the expressive glimmer of your eyes, the flash of your teeth. He lingers on you, commits you to memory as if he could ever forget you. Maybe someday he will. Maybe he won’t have to, if you come back to him.

But he won’t wait on it, in an apartment that still has traces of you in it’s corners and crevices. No, he has more to do, bigger than him. Bigger than you.

Even if the horrible tempo of his heart begs differently, even if the shaking in his shoulders is an indication otherwise.

One last look of you– you’re talking, saying something with your hands. The little girl laughs again, her red eyes crinkling up happily.

Tomura turns away.

He walks a familiar path to the apartment, the wind tries to slice through his jacket, kicks up leaves and litter in shadowed alleyways.

He enters and there is no one trailing behind him, your hands twisted into the back of his hoodie, or his sleeves. It’s quiet. Empty. He surveys it once, the bed with unmade sheets. The window that let in beams of colored light, that Ryuji would sit at.

And then he sets his hands on the wall, all ten of his fingers down, the way he used to touch you.

The wall begins to decay, cracks and crumbles beneath his hands. It spreads, and spreads, and spreads like a disease filling out the body of the apartment. Dust begins to fall like early snow.

His heart squeezes painfully, his eyes suddenly flooding with pressure, with tears he tries to keep back. His head throbs, feels like it’s going to cleave apart. His ribs ache– hurt so bad it’s like he can feel the one you took from him, the gaping part of his chest.

His Quirk flares hard and hot and fast. It burns through him, floods his veins in a way that makes him cry out, suddenly shaking, suddenly pained.

He destroys the apartment, disintegrates the tiny world he created with you that existed outside of the real one. He unpauses the game. He takes apart what the world should’ve been, when he was here, with you. He sees now that a world like this cannot exist.

The peace, the ideal, the way you had understood him. Your unending compassion. It’s rare. Not enough to save the rest of them.

So he tears it all apart, pushes at his Quirk in a way he hasn’t been able to before, nudges at its strength to test it. It flares outward, eating away at the entire space, at the furniture, at the floor. Everywhere.

He seethes, blooming, finally allowing that livid and vicious thing inside of him to burst forward. It’s explosive, wrenching out of him in the form of terrible destruction.

He’ll grow into what he was supposed to–

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

The only option he ever really had, the hand extended to him a villain’s, gentle when he’d taken it.

He destroys the boy inside him, the one that was naive and hopeful and weak. He let’s that boy inside of him fall apart, split open and leaks gore before turning to dust, too. He kills the part of him that he had only ever shared with you, in the blue-dark of night, when you were lulled to sleep with just the sound of his heart.

He swallows down his anguish and his jealousy and his bitterness, keeps it safe inside him, like All For One always said to do. He’ll nourish it, let it grow, fester inside of him until the only thing it can do is explode out of him to tear the world apart, too.

When he’s standing in the rubble of the tiny world you’d made with him, the apartment complex demolished, the people inside gone, he knows what he has to do.

And he has so much work to do in order to achieve it.

He tries to forget you, to destroy your memory, too. He will not carry the weight of you around inside him.

(But in his dreams, you sit cross-legged in front of him, serene and beautiful, like a painting he knows nothing about.

In his dreams, you ask for his hands to have, and he gives you them to hold.)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello there!! Do you have a list of long fics with a jealous/possessive/obsessive sherlock? Thank you mwahhh

Hey Nonny!!

I DO!! I actually started a new list for Possessive Sherlock awhile back waiting for someone to ask for it after I posted my other two lists, LOL.

I put my fics in word-count order, so just scroll down until you see a word count you like and go from there LOL :D

Hope you enjoy!

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE SHERLOCK Pt 3

See also:

Jealous & Possessive Sherlock

Possessive Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous Sherlock Because John Dates a Man

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Possessive by Fang323 (T, 850 w., 1 Ch. || John Whump, Hospitalization, Possessive / Protective Sherlock, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – His John did not belong. Not here. Not in this blasted hospital. It simply was not logical.

Concussions And Good Old Fashioned Awkwardness by Belldere (K+, 894 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Hospitals, Mild John Whump, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationship, Concussions, Not-Gay John, Possessive Sherlock) – When John lands himself in hospital... again, all he wants is to just get out of there as soon as possible, too bad his doctor has other ideas about where John may be getting his injuries. Good thing concussions make everything strangely funnier.

Burn Burn by Jenn1984 (K+, 925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Angst, Worried / Panicked / Possessive Sherlock) – A week after the events of "The Great Game", Sherlock returns to 221B Baker Street to find it empty.

His by I'm Nova (T, 1,042 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Possessive Sherlock) – Sherlock doesn't share what he's fond of.

Mine (He Says While Still Being Smol) by beejohnlocked (E, 1,319 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Amused John, Needy Sherlock, Blowjobs) – A suspect flirts with John. Sherlock gets a bit jealous. Okay, a LOT jealous.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Surety by hudders (G, 2,477 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Drunk John, Drunk Lestrade, Drinking, Alcohol) – Sherlock is pissed because it seems that four pints of larger, two shots of tequila and a glass of wine has resulted in Lestrade becoming a little bit too friendly with everyone. And by everyone, Sherlock really means John.

Pillow Talk by 221b_hound (E, 2,925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Est. Rel., Preening Sherlock, Limpet Sherlock, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Sex on Furniture, Scent Kink, Masturbation, Fluff, Soft Sherlock) – John gets home late from work and Sherlock is nowhere to be seen. John walks through the flat, distracted by memories of all the excellent sex they've been having, and finally finds Sherlock asleep in the upstairs room - apparently having fallen asleep mid-wank while inhaling the scent of John's pillow. Well, you should always finish what you start, John thinks... Part 3 of Lock and Key

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomalies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Paranoia by Ewebie (M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

The Oolong Disaster by unicornpoe (T, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Beard, Fluff, Humour, Frustrated Sherlock, John Takes Care of Sherlock, Case Fic-ish, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Possessive Sherlock) – John has a beard. Sherlock has a panic attack.

Obsession, Appassionato by shinychimera, Yeomanrand (E, 4,249 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive Sherlock, First Time, Jealous Sherlock, Music / Sherlock’s Violin, Present Tense, Frottage) – John is late, and he hasn’t called, and Sherlock works himself into a state. Part 1 of Love and Ysaye

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Butterfly, Pinned Under Glass by billiethepoet (E, 4,648 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive Sherlock, Jealousy, Barebacking, BAMF!John) – It started as a desire to keep John safe and whole, and ended up as just desire.

Applied Linguistics by what_alchemy (M, 4,837 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive / Anxious Sherlock, Introspection, Bed Sharing, Past John Whump, Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Word Play) – “He wants to shake John by the shoulders, wants to open his mouth and swallow John whole. Wants to marry him.” Sherlock searches for the right words.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

Fa Subito by kim47 (E, 6,659 w., 1 Ch. || Suit Porn, Cockblocker Mycroft, Obsessed Sherlock, PWP) – John wears a suit. Sherlock finds it extremely distracting.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

A Friend Indeed by Sanru (K+, 8,190 w., 1 Ch. || Missing John, Friendship, Drama, Introspection, Possessive Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – Something has gone terribly wrong with a supposedly simple case. John Watson is missing. While the search for him is proving to be fruitless, it has made Sherlock realize that having an emotional attachment to someone may have its disadvantages but he liked being able to call John his friend. Now if only he could find out what happened to him...

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w., 1 Ch. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (E, 14,835 w., 1 Ch. || POV First Person Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Stroppy Sherlock, Light Humour, Friendship, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Wall Kisses, Fluffy Angst, Happy Ending) – Sherlock doesn't even know why he resents John's dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don't let that scare you off!)

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

5 Times John Got the Girl (and lost her) and 1 Time John Got the Guy (and kept him) by LiviKate (M, 21,695 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Kissing, Oblivious / Awkward Sherlock, BAMF / Sexy / Stud John, Embarrassed John, John’s Scar, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock) – John has always had good luck with the ladies. He's charming, friendly and funny, not to mention great in bed. However, his usual skill with the opposite sex is constantly being thwarted by Sherlock and his outbursts. How will John ever get a leg over when Sherlock is always cockblocking him?

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn't walked through the park and met Stamford? What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

[matchstickdolly]

Lucifer 5B: Cutting off Touch to Spite Your Fans

Spoiler warning: This post assumes you've watched all of Lucifer, season 5, part B.

CW: There's plenty I like about season 5, but this is a negative post. I know not everyone is up for negativity about the things they love. I also generally avoid it and (try to) keep my mouth shut about things I don’t like in most spaces. It’s good etiquette. But this is my space, and I have thoughts specifically about purity culture and the treatment of sexuality and trauma in fiction. You’ve been warned!

---

I'm a professional writer (not in TV). I've worked with enough bad clients, editors, and other writers to recognize some hallmark behaviors in how both Fox and Netflix gave Lucifer's writers incredibly difficult, unfair, and frankly weird situations to create through.

Fox did them dirty, interfering and ordering too many eps in S3. Netflix did them dirty, ordering 10 eps for S4 when it clearly needed ~13. Then Netflix ordered 10 "final" eps for S5—then, just kidding(!), 6 more after they'd done their writing for the 10. (What the fuck?) And then Netflix ordered 10 more for a "final-final" S6 after the writers had done their best to tell their whole story in S5. (MORE what the fuck.)

Talk about whiplash for creators, and half of those who consume content don't even care to understand such creative pain.

So, there are problems on multiple fronts. There's much I'll forgive writers, accordingly. I go into most shows expecting plotting/pacing issues. I look, instead, for characters and relationships that will triumph over those issues.

Heart is what the show Lucifer has always had in spades, both in its characters and in the immensely committed, wonderful ways the actors have tried to realize the characters' humor, love, trauma, and—most importantly—struggle to find healing. Yet, when given the opportunity to show health alongside another in a relationship, the writers/directors of 5B chose to remove most sexual humor and physical intimacy from their female lead and bi/pan characters to, I feel, sanitize them and troll fans. What happened?

Well, for one, say hi to showrunner Joe Henderson bragging about how the writers decided to be colossal dicks to the fans who helped secure their jobs:

From CBR's 'Lucifer Showrunner Joe Henderson Dissects Season 5B's Chaos'

Have we not suffered sidelined/repressed female characters, "bury your gays," and, oh, Chloe fucking a serial killer enough? Must we also say hello to neutered relationships once characters find stable love (whether same or opposite sex)? The result of withdrawing more sexual humor and physical intimacy from paired characters is an uncomfortable suggestion that they're reformed by "pure" love—more chaste and aloof, more acceptable in polite society. This is only done to end-game committed relationships.*

The writers seem to think they're edging the viewers, but the reality is they're taking traumatized minority characters who rejoiced in sexual freedom, but lacked and craved an emotional connection, and showing they can't have both, or, if they find both, it will never last. They've taken hypersexual characters and said, here, even they can have the love and commitment they desire, but some physical intimacy, especially sexual intimacy, is what they must trade for it.

There's always one more case, phone call, or coincidence interrupting intimacy. Traumas or deaths deserving emotional and physical comfort go on to receive none or only one aspect. Done sometimes, it's fine. Done always, it's sick. Dan dies, and there's no hugging? Really?†

Don't craft characters who crave a full range of emotional and physical intimacy, only to rob them of related scenes every chance you get. That's not complexity. That's bad writing. To even achieve this in 5B, they must squash banter and sideline their female lead yet again.

What a gift to purity culture, which tells us to be more palatable by bottling and buttoning up. That sex should be taboo, but violence glorified. That there is no heated desire among "Good Women," that sexual minorities of all genders shouldn't experience it much at all.

5A is so good. At the very least, it's on the right path (clearly, since the plot payoff from 5x01 to 5x16 is great). It shows a couple working through difficulties and trauma, toward each other emotionally and physically. It even pokes fun at people who think an established relationship means the death of romantic and sexual appeal (a tired and hugely sexist trope). And then... And then 5B reverses that, pretending established relationships are barely physical during emotional struggle and that the honeymoon phase doesn't exist. It robs characters of joy and comfort through physical intimacy when they need it to move through or push beyond trauma.

It's telling that so many fan wishes for Deckerstar are about healing touch and existing in each other's spaces: amending Chloe's spicy PDA history with Cain, Chloe caring for Lucifer's wings, soft family scenes a la Monopoly night and shared meals, morning-afters, etc. Reasonable fans aren't asking for porn; they're asking for connection and humanity. They're asking for writers not to forget characters (and, yes, including hypersexual characters) on their way from Point A to Point B.

That 5B lacks these things isn't a "tee-hee frustrating" slow burn or a cockblock. It is, in so many scenes, excising from characters a core part of what nearly every human and fictional monster craves. And it's a slap in the face to the "found family" trope. When you remove or tamp down a casual physical intimacy that was previously there, characters and their relationships fall flat, even if only partially. They become blunt weapons creators wield against watchers or readers begging for scraps of warmth.

Minorities shouldn't be killed off with ease, and they shouldn't be stifled with ease, either.‡ And maybe there shouldn't be deep trauma driving a wedge in a romantic relationship if you're not going to explore it through that relationship, too—physical intimacy included.

I'm still reserving some judgment. I loved the family drama and the end. (Although, again, where was the physical intimacy? No intimacy when Chloe or Lucifer return from the dead? Really?) I see where they could do awesome things, and could have done more if not for network BS.

But I no longer trust Lucifer's writers and directors. They thought S5 was the end. And what they gave us of Deckerstar, of the relationship that symbolizes health and healing in their fictional world, is this: cold distance. And they got a kick out of doing it, apparently.

If this is a "love letter" to me as a fan, I'm burning it. I can only hope S6 course corrects. If not, the writers who made these choices shouldn't write sexual minority and/or traumatized characters again. If you don't understand most of us, you should stop fucking using us.

---

* If you don't believe me about the differences between casual/short-term relationships and end-game relationships in Lucifer, go back and look at how Lucifer and Maze are with strangers in all the other seasons. Look at Chloe's sex dream, her propositioning of Lucifer in a library, her sex with Pierce in the evidence closet. Look at how much physical intimacy there is between Lucifer and Eve, and then between Eve and Maze (if only as a ploy). Across seasons, there are sex/kink jokes and scenes galore.

Compare this to how these same characters are portrayed when with their end-game loves. Notice the gentle pecks on the lips and the huge general drop in sexual humor between 5A and 5B. How boring. Where's the spice these characters had? Also, give me a damn break. Buttoning up in a relationship is contrary to four and a half seasons of emotional character work that's been communicating security in our relationships is personally freeing.

† I'm not just talking about sexual intimacy in this post, though that is a big part of it because of the characters. 5B lacked crucial found family scenes, too.

Chloe should have been at God's family dinner, but being so would have prevented more ham-fisted angst. Chloe never even has a one-on-one with God, probably because that would demand a straight answer about her miracle status, which I would guess will be used to drive yet another wedge between her and Lucifer next season, but we'll see.

In multiple before- and after-work scenes, there was no reason for Lucifer and Chloe to be apart more, even, than they were in S1 and S2. Monopoly night was in S3, for crying out loud. Most horrifying of all? No one touches Chloe after Dan's death, but Trixie. Meanwhile, Linda, Amenadiel, Ella, Maze, and Lucifer all receive physical comfort. No wonder Chloe's tired of being strong.

‡ If you don't think it's offensive that they stuffed all their wlw content for two hypersexual characters into a few clunky, irrational, and chaste scenes that rushed I love yous, a marriage-like proposal, and the mention of soulmates, I don't know what to tell you other than get off my lawn.

[quirkyhero]

My OchaCow headcanons

___________________________________________________________________

BACKSTORY AND BACKGROUND:

Cow Ochaku: is a wild thang who is a strong heifer as well as adventurous. She was born and raised in an abusive habitat only ment to breed strong bulls for fighting rings. She's been through some shit, and learned to not take some shit because of it.

Cow Ochaku: this gal was raised and taught that she would breed with bulls when she was old enough to mate, she would be forced to submit to bulls for as long as she could and as long as they would need. She remembered being forced to "watch and learn" of what would be happening when she be came old enough to do the same thing. And them, doing things to her in order for her to get the "hands on process".

Cow Ochaku: by the age of 15 she had thankfully managed to escape thanks to her parents and the instructions they left her. Though sadly she was too weak and had no time to save any others. On her own she ran as far as she could, hiding in the city in always with a black hoodie and sweat pants she stolen from a box.

Cow Ochaku: thankfully enough she was found by a kind human who was kind enough to offer her home and shelter. Seeing as she was starving and cold and fucking exhausted, she took the humans offer, still suspicious of this person not sure weather to trust them or not.

Cow Ochaku: this was of course six years ago, and she had come to love her home with trees and forest surrounding the place. There was two male hybrids that lived beside her, their names are Monama, who's a bull and Kouda who'san ox. Monama, while a bit rude at first and Kouda who was pretty shy and skittish around her. Came to be protective of her over the years, now their all pretty close and good friends.

Cow Ochaku: after a long time of healing and bonding, she came to open up with her human farmers and two male friends. She even worked out and lifted logs and other such heavy things, which in turn gained her muscle. She also became quite the fan of martial arts due to the movies they'd watch together, learning new techniques along with the old farmer and their grandkid that was the same age as she.

Cow Ochaku: she had also come in contact with the internet. . .you can see where this is going. As she grew into a strong young lady, she came to also be comfortable with sex. . . That is to say with bottom boys. She absolutely loved her Monama and Kouda who she helped out with their ruts and explored new things (kinks) and the such together.

Cow Ochaku: threw a family doctor, who is a friend of the farmer had come to the conclusion that she may be infertile, and there was only a low chance of her having her own calf. This to her and the others was heartbreaking news, but nonetheless she still clung to hope that she would have her own calf one day. She was just relieved that the others didn't think less of her like the heifers back at the bad place would have done.

HOW SHE IS WHEN SHE GETS TO THE NEW FARM + WITH THE BULLS , HEIFERS , STAFF AND EVEN CALFS!?:

Cow Ochaku: was excited yet nervous to go on a trip to the new farm she, the bull and ox will be staying at for a year for her farmer friend that's going to be there for a study work trip.

Cow Ochaku: on one hand, she could finally make that bull harem she wanted. But on the other hand there would be thousands of new faces and in an environment thats a little similar to the bad place. In a sense that's there's quite alot of her kind there. But with the reasurement of the old farmer, the two boys and her calmed a bit.

Cow Ochaku: once on the farm and out of the moving vehicle. Ocha(Ochako), Mono(Monama) and Ko(Kouda) all went to explore once everything was signed in and registered. Only for Mono and Ocha to get whistled at and cat called by the bulls. Mono wasn't exactly the standard looking bull with him being smaller and more feminine looking with smaller horns, he was mistaken for a heifer quite alot. So them both being cat called was not a surprise.

Cow Ochaku: Kouda on the other hand, was being ogled at by the heifers that was curious about the newcomers. Kouda is pretty big, after all he is an ox, he's actually almost the same height as Kirishima, and poor baby was sticking very close behind his heifer and bull friend, not really liking the attention.

Cow Ochaku: meanwhile Ocha paid no mind to the ogling and cat calls, she was looking at the bulls that came to look at her and her friend. Debating and thinking of who she would start her "Bull Harem" plan on first.

Cow Ochaku: along they're walk they bump into a charming cowboy named Midoriya Izuku and a handsome bull named Kirishima, both kind and cute and sexy in they're own rights. . . Ocha came to terms with the idea of adding the cowboy to her bull harem plan, and let her mind run a little thinking of ways to ruin him for only a moment as to not be rude.

Cow Ochaku: after that meeting she came to see at one point, cute Little CALFS!!! OH MY GOODNESS! Ocha decided that this farm was fucking amazing. After all, it came with plenty of bulls and cute farmers for her Bull Harem plan. The staff were pretty great and there are even cute little Calfs here to watch and play with if she's aloud.

SOME EXTRA DETAILS ON COW OCHAKO:

Cow Ochaku: is a lover and fighter, this as I said came for her difficult past and trauma as well as her new beginning on her home land where she met her boys and humans. So she can be pretty intense, as well as straight forward.

Sometimes she scares the bulls with her strength and stamina, alot of them can't keep up with her during her exploration in the hay. The ones who can keep up with her are kiri and Bakugou, but even they sometimes fall victim to her brutal pace which earns her some heavy respect in their books.

Cow Ochaku: she absolutely adores sparring. At first the bulls wouldn't train with her because, "she's a heifer, she'll just get hurt" which seriously pissed her off. That is until a Bull who was messing with one of the heifers took things too far for her liking got take down by her just grabbing his horn with one hand and slamming the big bull down with just sweeping his leg out from under him and Basically making him face plant down onto the ground.

She Basically forced oversized "calf" to apologize to the heifer, and better not do that shit again. Bakugou who Basically went from not impressed and only intrigued to Having mad respect for her and now wants this woman in his harem, though he ain't the only one.

Cow Ochaku: poor baby still at times has nightmares about the bad place and will sneak into the living quarters of either of her boys or into her human friends room, or just brings all three of them to her own living quarters to cuddle and sleep together. If anything this is something her and Bakugou bond over, since he was a rescue bull from a pretty harsh place and she ran away from a bad place.

One night he just caught her awake early in the morning breathing in the cold air, with a melancholy look upon her usually smiling face. While it's a sad thing to bond about they do bond over it, and it brings them closer.

Cow Ochaku: she's love mochi treats, the kind that the old farmer made specially for hybrids. If you found a way to make them she will be your godamn best friend! Speaking of friends while she can make easy friends with any gendered human, she's not really good with other heifers for some reason. She just. . .feels nervous and a bit off around them

It could be because she has no idea on how to add the heifers in her bull harem plan, as well as the fact that she's not really. . . On the same wavelength of thinking as them at times??? Basically she wants to dominate the bulls while they want to be fucked submissive by them.

She wants to trust Said bull before EVER fucking them, while all it takes is the bull to show off how strong he is to get them wet and ready. She doesn't care for being treated frail and being taken care of while she can take care of her self. She would adore being taken care of twenty for seven by their strong bull. . .she just doesn't get them. . .at all really nonetheless she tries. . . She really tries.

Cow Ochaku: loves giving advice to the bulls about sex techniques and telling them about human sex toys. If she's close to a bull, she teach them some human tricks that she learned while surfing, "the web." She'll also be a babysitter for the heifers and bulls that want alone time at a specific moment so they can get they're grove on if you know what I mean?

___________________________________________________________________

I did my own version of an Ochako Cow! I'm pretty proud of my drawings as well as how I made her! I based her on @miggiisdumb 's Bull/Cow AU cause I'm heavily obsessed with the godamn AU and her writing, please go check out her stuff as well as art cause it's fantastic.

I'm also gonna tag @headkandies in here cause they make pretty good headcanons as well as being a fellow lover of this AU!

But anyways that's all folks be safe and have a Heroic Day! Since it's not safe out there please take a mochi loving Ochacow on your way. 🥰

[harrydracompreg]

2020 H/D Mpreg Fest Reveals

♥ 2020 H/D Mpreg Fest Reveals ♥ The 2020 H/D Mpreg fest has come to an end. Below please find the masterlist of participants. We continue to be a small fest and I'd want to thank everyone who participated by writing, reading and commenting. I also want to especially thank those of you contacted me after claiming closed to offer your talent. It helped us post for the whole month. ♥ ♥ Submissions are no longer anonymous on AO3, so feel free to reply and repost your lovely works. Please, kindly, let me know if there's an error below by an email to the mod account (it's the best way to reach me quickly) or a PM on LJ to sassy_cissa or as always, feel free to ping me on the drarry discord.

Art The Unexpected Values of a Night out (and possibly too much booze)

Artist: AO3 thisbloodycat | @thisbloodycat

Summary: Draco just wanted to hang out, have some fun with his remaining friends. All was going fairly well -- that is, until Potter showed up. It turns out Draco's mother isn't too fond of illegitimate grandchildren, and Potter... Potter seems to be too damned pleased with this whole thing. If there was a list of all the things Draco has ever wanted, a wedding to Potter would certainly not be one of them. [G] ________________________________________________________________ Fic: A New Ordinary Author: AO3: JETPlayin | @jet-playin-around Summary: When Draco finds out he's pregnant, he never expects it to turn out like this. [19.9k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ every fragment of the moonlight Author: LJ bloodisshrp | Ao3: panicparade Summary: He feels vaguely off kilter, like the room was forced off its axis for a bit and then resettled, but nothing is where it used to be. Though there’s doubt creeping in, he has absolutely no idea how Harry will react, it’s overshadowed by sheer joy. [4.5k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Regret-Me-Not Author: LJ: tangerinewords | AO3: tangerinewords | @tangerinewords Summary: Harry has been seeing Draco for some time and they've gotten closer. However, their relationship is still strictly sexual, so when Harry finds out he's pregnant, he doesn't know whether he should tell Draco or not. When Luna returns the Resurrection Stone to him after having found it on the Forest, he talks to Sirius and asks him for advice. [12.3k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Up in the sky (I search for you) Author: AO3: SlytherinSizeQueen | @slytherinsizequeen Summary:A year ago, Draco gave birth to a stillborn baby boy. In an attempt to heal and move on, he decides to sit down and write his son a letter on what should have been his first birthday. A story about loss, love and 12 letters. Contains: Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth (not Harry or Draco) [7.4k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Life Is What Happens To You (When You're Busy Making Other Plans) Author: AO3: Ladderofyears Summary: Harry and Draco are the overwhelmed parents of Jamie Potter-Malfoy, their beautiful six week old son. Their life is running exactly as both wizards planned. But, when a misunderstood old witches tale, a hormonal Draco and an infatuated Harry all combine to throw this blessed existence into disarray Draco finds himself devastated. Can he find his way back to happiness? [9.2k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ To know the pain of too much tenderness Author: AO3: Cibee (Cibeeeee) | @cibeewastaken Summary: Harry is in love with Draco, and Draco sometimes goes on dates with other people, but it’s not like Harry could be bothered by it when he never told Draco about his feeling, right? Right. So Harry isn’t that bothered by Draco’s dates, what bothers him is when one of those dates knocks Draco up and doesn’t want the baby. [6.3k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Something Good (The Second Time Around) Author: AO3: Ravenclaw62 Summary: After putting his youngest on the Hogwarts Express, Harry feels a little lost and without direction in life. There’s someone on the platform who notices, though, who also knows how it feels to come back to an empty home. Can this someone help Harry find his way? After years of contentment, acceptance, and ‘good enough’ — he never could have imagined that a whirlwind romance with his former childhood nemesis would become his something good after a lifetime of trials. [99.8k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ Life: A Series of Moments Author: AO3: Ruvarashe Summary: Life is a sum of thousands of moments that, put together, tell our individual stories. Some moment are brief with minimal impact and others have the power to shape every other moment that comes after. This is the story of Draco and Harry's breakup and the moments that come after. [2.8k, G] ________________________________________________________________ Buns in the Oven Author: LJ: erin_riwen | AO3: erin_riwen | @erin-riwen Summary: Harry finds a creative way to tell Draco their great news. [2.3k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Hadrian's Curse Author: LJ: oldenuf2nb | AO3: oldenuf2nb Summary: When rumors about Albus Potter and his best friend begin to circulate at Hogwarts, Harry Potter finds you can never really escape your past. [30.1k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ The Seven Year Courtship Author: LJ: crazyparakiss | AO3: crazyparakiss Summary: Their relationship, for lack of a better term, started when Potter invited him out for a piss up. Now, as Draco stared down at the luminous green potion, he regretted ever letting this thing with Potter go beyond that first drunken night. [8.2k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ One Day's Difference Author: LJ: melcalder | AO3: MelCalder Summary: Draco's sacrifices his god-given body and has (mostly) no regrets. [10.3k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Dissonance Author: LJ: bummedoutwriter AO3: BummedOutWriter Summary: Draco met Harry’s eyes directly, and spoke to him for the first time in eleven months, “Avada…” The rest was muffled in trauma as Harry felt a familiar warmth of magic, a flash of emerald light descending rapidly as he squeezed his eyes shut, and braced for— Or: In which Draco becomes a death eater, has a baby, and tries to forget about her. [17.2k, R] ________________________________________________________________ Best Laid Plans Author: LJ: nerdherderette | AO3 PalenDrome | @nerdherderette Summary: Draco picks at the hem of his robe. "I had a plan. I was going to woo Harry with my dashing charm and some earth-shattering sex. We’d fall madly in love, spend a year or two being sickeningly domestic, then get married and start a family." Pansy hides a smile. “One out of five’s not bad.” Or the one where a magical isle, a secret wish, and Harry bloody Potter take Draco’s plan and upends it on its head. [18.9k, PG-13] ________________________________________________________________ Hold Close Your Heart and Take The Leap Author: LJ: dracogotgame | AO3: dracogotgame | @dracogotgame Summary: Draco knows he needs to tell Potter their lives are about to change forever. But ‘knowing’ and ‘doing’ are two very different things. [19.7k, G] ________________________________________________________________ Second Time Around Author: AO3: Quentin_Threepwood Summary: Scorpius Potter-Malfoy’s parents were never a couple. They share custody of him and maintain a stiff, professional relationship. Harry is a professor at Hogwarts, and Draco is a potioneer. But after Slughorn is indisposed, and Draco takes over as potions professor at Hogwarts for the latter half of the school year, Scorpius enlists Slytherin house to help get his fathers together. He just wants his family together. [14.9k, R] ________________________________________________________________ Out of Order Author: LJ/DW: enchanted_jae | AO3: Enchanted_Jae Summary: Harry begins to suspect that Draco is pregnant, but Draco isn't having it. [4.4k, R] ________________________________________________________________ You were made for me Author: AO3: PollyWeasley Summary: Harry and Draco have been in a relationship for a while. Even though Draco did it to make Harry happy, his lover's pregnancy kink started to rub on him and now he really wanted to have a real pregnancy and a real baby. He supposed it was easy enough if you were part-veela and had all the necessary parts. Right? [4.9k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ Harry Potter and the Dreaded Handkerchief Author: AO3: countingcr0ws (ao3) Summary: Harry Potter wakes up one day and realises that he has lost six years of his memory from an accident at work. But it's not so bad because there's the internet nowadays, and Malfoy's back from his disappearance post-war! In which Harry bribes everyone with Greg's pastries, and tries to keep Malfoy in his life. [14.1k, PG] ________________________________________________________________ Piece of Me Author: LJ: lyonessheart | AO3: lyonessheart Summary: Harry lost a part of himself years ago. But now everything is different. [5.7k, PG] ________________________________________________________________

In The Small Hours Author: AO3: Ladderofyears Summary: Draco is suffering from a dreadful case of third trimester insomnia. Every night he lays awake, his worries growing gigantic and his eight and a half month pregnant body aching and sore. Harry can't abide seeing his husband suffer so he does a little bit of research in Draco's baby books. It seems the perfect cure for Draco's insomnia is right at his fingertips... [4.2k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ Finding Their Way Author: LJ: sassy_cissa | AO3: sassy_cissa | @sassy-cissa Summary: "Draco Malfoy-Potter!" Harry snapped softly. "Stop it right now. For the love of god, I manage an entire Auror division. I organise ops that involve coordinating scads of personnel." He glared at his spouse. "I'm damn sure I can manage to give our daughter her bottle at six, her bath at seven and have her in bed by half-seven." Or the one where their daughter gets the best of Harry and help comes from an unexpected ally. [8.9k, NC-17] ________________________________________________________________ The authors and artists worked hard on their submissions, don't forget to comment, leave kudos and rec your favourites!! I'll be around next spring to talk about the fest for 2021. sassy_cissa

[beermanoftana]

a long and hard day [matt simmons]

relationship: matt simmons x female!reader

warnings: smut, daddy!kink, matt isn’t married, my first fucking smut; mistakes here and there because i won’t be able to post it until sunday if i don’t post it now and i owe this requester a lot

request (anon): 54, 65, and 71 from the smut prompts for M Mans Matt Simmons please!! With some daddy kink too if possible ”

notes: so i tried my best…hopefully my best was good enough :( my super duper first official smut so please be kind *cries*

summary: the title says it all…

Matt Simmons had a long and hard day at work. He didn’t get much sleep since they landed back in Quantico a few hours ago. Emily instructed the team to go home and get some rest, but he stayed behind to do some paperwork. It wasn’t due anytime soon but he wanted to get things out of his system. Unfortunately, he couldn’t handle the tiredness and decided to just bring home the files.

You were lying on the couch watching the news on TV. It was a Friday and so you decided to just let loose for the night. You heard the door open and you shifted to be able to look up. Matt appeared and he gave you a weak smile. “Hey, y/n.”

“Matt. What’s wrong?” you asked. You placed your feet firmly on the ground and your bag of chips on the coffee table. “Is everything okay?”

He walked over to you, his files never leaving his hands. “Busy, but everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” Then he turned around and headed for the bedroom.

You pouted. “You’re not even gonna give me a kiss?”

Matt faced you once more, a cheeky smile on his face. “Why don’t you come follow me and get it?” And with that, he resumed heading to his initial destination.

You rolled your eyes and flopped back on the couch. You looked down the hallway and saw the dim room illuminated by the lamp. He must be working on the desk table. Then a thought comes to mind, you haven’t even asked if he had eaten yet.

“Maybe a light snack will do,” you murmured.

Shutting off the television, you stood up and went straight for the kitchen, barefoot. You searched the refrigerator before your eyes settled on a sandwich. You smiled and took the plate before putting it in the microwave.

You waited for the food to heat as you thought of what you could do to help Matt. You frowned and grabbed a glass of water as the appliance dinged, signalling that you can now get the sandwich. You’ll find out what you can do when you get there.

It’s just a few seconds walk from the kitchen to the bedroom. You leaned against the doorframe and glowered at Matt’s hunched form. He had one elbow on the table and his hand on his forehead. Your poor baby.

You knocked thrice and announced yourself. When Matt looked back, with furrowed brows and a thin line in between his lips, you might add, you said that you’ve brought a snack for him. “Thought you might be hungry.” You shrugged, a small and assuring smile on your lips. “Want some?”

Matt’s lips turned up and he nodded. “Haven’t had any food to eat since…a few hours ago,” he admitted with a chuckle. You handed him the platter and the drink. In just a few minutes the food was all gobbled up and the drink was halfway done. “That was the best meal of my life.”

You laughed. “I should just microwave food instead.”

Matt chuckled. After a few moments he excused himself and went back to work. You sighed and grabbed the plate as you decided to bring it to the sink but Matt called you back. “C'mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.”

You whipped your head back and blinked at him. He was staring at you, waiting for your response. With the tone of voice he used, you expected him to have a smirk on his face but it was a smile instead. You placed the plate on the dresser and carefully walked over to him, making sure it was okay for you to really be with him.

When you reached him, he had his arms wide open and his lap was very inviting. You turned around and sat down. You looked at him, your face just inches away from him.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You huffed. “I suppose.”

Then you turned your head to look at what he’s been doing but his finger came into contact with your chin and he tilted your head away to look at him. “Ah, ah, ah. Sorry.”

“Are they confidential?” you asked.

“Just reports, but…,” he shrugged, “I don’t think you’d like to know about them.”

You nodded, understanding. You leaned on him and settled your head against the crook of his neck. He began to work once again and the two of you fell into a good, comfortable position, with a quiet but comforting silence in the air.

You didn’t talk. You wanted to but you knew you couldn’t, you didn’t want to disturb him. So you just shut up and let him do his work. His steady breathing calmed you, his short hums and quiet sighs made you feel safe. The way his arms rested against the table, not around you but supporting you at the same time. From your angle, you can see how tense his muscles get as he wrote. You shifted a little, your arse was now in between his legs, his left leg must have lost blood by now. The thoughts made you want to giggle but instead you let out a soft hum.

Matt must have heard because he turned his head a little and said, “What’s up?”

You shook your head once. “It’s nothing important. Just a silly thought.”

He chuckled and continued back to work.

You felt a little uncomfortable so you placed your hands on his lap and shifted once more, this time, a bit higher up. You wiggled a bit and you heard him grunt, but you didn’t think much of it and you continued finding the perfect position.

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered, “You’re not being a very good girl now, are you?”

You gulped. “Did I distract you too much?”

“You can say that.” He placed a kiss on your temple, then by your ear and then at the side of your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips. He didn’t say anything, instead, his lips moved to the hollow of your throat. He kissed it a few times before moving to your lips, but it was only one chaste kiss.

“You work too much,” you told him. “You don’t even remember how to kiss me properly.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Then teach me.”

Your lips crashed into his. Initially, your head was tilted to one side and his on the other, but you began to move in synch and the kiss went from longing to hungry.

When you gasped for air, you leaned back a little, panting, wanting to see what he thought of the lesson you just gave him.

You and Matt had been together for about three years now and have been living together for a few months but you don’t get very intimate often. In all honesty, you were scared. You’ve been with men and women before, and you’ve gotten intimate, but that’s where it ends. And you thought that if you get intimate with Matt then one day he’d just up and leave. He’d always assure you that he wouldn’t, but trauma doesn’t heal in just a snap.

Matt was smiling. He nuzzled your nose and said, “I have a great instructor. Not only does she get to teach me new things but she’s also beautiful and hot, and she kisses me, too.”

You snorted. “You are too cheesy, Matt Simmons.”

“I can’t help it, y/n. You make me feel things.” He grinned.

“Yeah? Like what kind of things?” You shifted on his lap, now remembering the sound he made when you kept wiggling earlier.

He groaned. “You did that on purpose.”

You kissed the side of his neck. “I did. What are you going to do about it?”

He lifted you up and you squealed, surprised at the gesture. You seemed to have read his mind because you spread your legs and you are now facing him directly. He shifted forward and this enabled you to wrap your legs around him.

Without a word, he brought his mouth to yours. You could feel yourself tingle as your tongues danced together, one of your hands clutching his hair and the other on his neck pulling him as close as you can.

You can tell there was a tent forming in his pants as the side of your thigh was coming into contact with his jeans and you felt something long and hard inching its way up and up.

“What about…mm, you’re…uhh…paper…works?” you asked in between kisses.

“Mm…later,” he replied. “Now,” he continued, “you better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.”

You smirked and kissed him once more before lifting yourself up from him. You kneeled and watched as he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. God you loved that routine of his.

Matt lifted himself a little to pull down the clothing before sitting back once more. His dick sprung to life at the release. He sighed in relief and brought his dominant hand to touch himself, slowly rubbing it up and down.

“You know,” you started, moving your face closer to his member, “if you need any pleasuring, I’m right here.”

He smirked and let go of himself, placing the hand that was previously on his cock on your cheek. “Go ahead, princess. Make Daddy proud.”

You grinned. Eyeing his length, you stuck out your tongue and licked from the bottom all the way to the top, and you certainly didn’t think of missing the slit. “Mmm,” you hummed.

Matt groaned. “You’ll make me cum in seconds if you continue that.”

“Someone’s deprived,” you said with a giggle.

He chuckled a bit but gave a surprise moan when you took him in. “Gah, fuck.”

Your gag reflex wasn’t too good but you tried to take in as much of him as you could. You can hear Matt’s moaning as you continued your part. His hand reached the top of your head and slid down to where your hair stops.

He clenched his fist, having it wrapped around your hair. He tugged at you and you released him, drool dripping from your mouth. He leaned forward and whispered, “You’re going to do what Daddy says?”

You nodded.

“What was that?”

You let out some air. “Yes, Daddy. I’m going to do everything you say.”

He smirked. “Good girl.” He leaned closer and gave you a wet, sloppy kiss. “Now,” he said when your lips separated, “one last lick.”

You bent your head down and gave him one, long and slow lick, pausing when you reached his tip before looking back at him. “Was that good?”

“Too good,” he grunted. “Too good.” Without warning, he let go of your hair, hoisted you up, holding you close to him as you heard the scatter of paper and then he settled you on the desk. His left hand holds your neck. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked around and wondered about his work. “Your reports,” you said. “They’re all scattered now.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got more important matters to attend to.” He placed a kiss on your forehead before lowering himself down. You began to feel the heat coming up from your neck to your face. This has always been an exciting yet nerve-wracking action. “Do you want this?” he asked. You nodded your head. “Just stay calm. Relax.”

You nodded once more. Matt removed your shorts and threw it on the side. He spent a bit of time examining your panties before hooking his index fingers on the side and pulling it down. He slid the underwear down on one side and slowly released the other half from your other leg, then crumpled it and discarded it on the floor.

Your breathing was hard but you were quiet. “Matt,” you called him.

“Mm? Yes, love?”

Your breath hitched. “Nothing, never mind.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

You smiled back. You’ve always been so scared to say it first despite the time you’ve spent together. You do say it first, more time than you can remember, but when it comes to having sex, it’s just…different.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

His smile grew wider. He then proceeded to move closer to your quivering entrance. Before you could even think of a random word, you felt the warm tongue of his sliding in between your wet folds. You hiss and involuntarily jerk your legs and hips but he holds them down.

From your slit, he takes a dip inside, an inch, then two and all that he could put in. You moaned, your head falling back. “Fuck,” you muttered.

Matt retreated his tongue and you whined. “Such a dirty word for a good girl.”

“Oh, get back there,” you said.

He chuckled and did as he was told.

He worked his tongue around you, even bringing up his fingers to stick two digits inside of you as his tongue gave attention to your clit.

You kept your spread legs from clenching around him. Your mutters and pants fill the room as he continued. Finally, you felt it. The way your stomach knots, how your sensitive bud felt hot, the tension where you don’t know how many more tongue to clit and fingers to pussy motions will make you scream.

And there it is.

“Fuck! Matt!” You begin writhing, your hands find his hair and you hold him close to you, careful not to hurt him. “Ah! Yes, Matt,” you murmured. “Nngh…uhh…fu–.” Your body slowly calmed down as Matt released his hold on you although your heartbeat was still erratic.

He hovered over you and gave you a kiss. You tingle at your own taste. “How can you enjoy that?” you asked, still panting.

He shrugged. “I enjoy anything when it comes to you.”

You giggled and lifted your head up to kiss him. He returned it and leaned down. After a few tilts here and there, you chuckled and said, “I like this desk but it’s not really that comfortable.”

He laughed. He stood up and helped you on the floor. “Your pants are still on your ankles.”

Matt looked down. “Heh.” He removed his clothing, including his socks. He then removed his shirt. You licked your lips at the sight of his torso. He chuckled and moved towards you. “Time to take this off,” he murmured.

You raised your arms and he lifted the shirt over your head. “That’s a thick shirt then,” he observed as he saw your hardened nipples.

“It’s yours,” you told him.

He shook his head and pulled you close. “Enough talking, princess.”

You felt his growing member pressing against you and you smiled. The way your nipples grazed his chest sent shivers down your spine. “Bed?”

“Yes.” He agreed.

The two of you get on the said furniture. You were on your back and he was on top. “You ready for me, baby?” He spread your legs and he centered himself in front of you. He slides his hand up your pussy and slicks himself. “Tell me when you’re ready, babe,” he said as he leaned down.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Ready.”

Positioning himself, he entered you slowly. He groaned as the tightness wrapped around him. You gasped as he filled you.

“Fuck, so tight,” he muttered.

You found that too hard to believe. “You’re just too fucking big…oh fuck.” He had began to thrust into you, it was slow and careful, just a warm up. “You wanna speed it up a little?”

Matt scoffed. “What was that?”

You felt him hit a spot. “I mean, can you go a bit faster, Daddy?”

He freed himself from you, making you whine once again. He then kneeled in front of you, his erection directly at your line of sight. He lifted your spread legs and hoisted them on his shoulders.

You begin to ask him if he was comfortable with the position, you carried yourself by putting your weight on your elbows but his right hand reached for your neck. Your breathed hitched.

“Stay down, baby girl. Let me give you what you want.”

You nodded slowly and he guided your body back down. His hand released your neck and he moved it to your cheek, his thumb grazing your lips. You licked it and he allowed it inside your pretty mouth, letting you suck on it. When you let go, there’s a ‘pop’ sound and you looked at him straight in the eyes. “Just like a lollipop, Daddy.”

“Oh, I’ll give you an even bigger lollipop, baby.”

And he started to fuck you. It was hard, it was fast, it was deep. Exactly the way you liked it.

“Fuck fuck fuck!’ you screamed. “Yes, just like that, Daddy, just like that.”

Matt didn’t say anything in response. He continued to fuck you with all that he’s got. You straightened your legs as he looked down at where his dick slid in and out of your pussy. His balls slapping against your arse cheeks.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

“Please keep going, Daddy. Please.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you, baby girl."

And it went on as. your gasps, moans and groans filled the air. You were still so sensitive and you knew wouldn’t be long until…

"Get on your fucking knees.”

You whimpered. He let go of your legs and was looking at you expectantly. He’s making you edge on purpose. He knew the signs of when you’d be coming, and yet he still teased the hell out of you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you agreed quietly.

You tried your best to get in the position he wanted you in but your legs were tired, your pussy wet and wanting.

Finally, you were able to get on your knees, but not even five seconds later, they buckled. Matt caught you and snickered. “That good already, huh?”

“Oh shut up."

You could feel Matt positioning himself to enter you. One hand on your arse, the other crawling to your neck. The hand that reached your neck led you down until your cheek was against the pillow.

"You okay?” be asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” you replied.

He didn’t bother entering you slowly, he just pounded in you, taking advantage of the slick wetness you both acquired from earlier.

“Mm, yes, fuck yeah,” you groaned. “Oh fuck! You fuck me so good!”

“You know what you’re supposed to call me,” he muttered, not stopping his motion. “Say it.” He reached down to squeeze one of your boobs, his fingers lingering on the nipple.

*Daddy.“

"Louder.”

“Daddy.”

“I said,” then a spank that made you gasp, “louder.”

Your eyes rolled back. You were getting there. Fuck spanks, they turned you on so much. “Fuck.”

Matt shoved himself inside of you hard. Again. And again. “Baby girl,” he said softly, “I’m not letting you cum until I hear you call out my name.”

“Da–” you tried to say.

Another spank. “Such a bad girl, can’t even say my name.” Another spank and a deep thrust.

Spank me a few more times, you think. Just a few more.

He seemed to have read your mind. He chuckled and began hitting your arse. After just a few of those you manage to scream out “Daddy” before shouting nonsense as you orgasmed hard.

Matt loved the spasms. He groaned at the feeling, fucking you softly as he let you ride out your release. When his thrusts became faster and harder, his breathing becoming uneven, you tried to ready yourself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he muttered.

“Cum for me, Daddy,” you whispered. “Cum for me.”

He released himself from you and crawled to where your head was. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue just in time for his sticky, white liquid. He groaned as he came, and he loved the sight of you taking him as you do. He wasn’t even done when you wrapped your lips around his length and licked his tip.

“Argh!” he moaned. You simple giggled, sending him into another frenzy at the vibration.

When you two were wrapped in each other’s arms, trying to calm down from your high, you thought it would be a good idea to go to a 24/7 burger joint.

“Just as long as you put on real clothes,” he said.

You reached the burger joint just a few blocks away. When you came in, you didn’t notice a duo gawk at you, but Matt moved closer and wrapped his an arm around your waist.

“What will you have?” you asked.

“Like we ever change our orders,” he replied with a chuckle.

You laughed. “Okay, go get us a seat.”

He gave you the cash and reluctantly did as he was told.

When you came back with the food, Matt was scowling. “What’s wrong?”

He gestured towards the seat next to you and saw two guys minding their own business. You shrugged and sat across Matt. “You’ve just had a long and hard day, babe.”

He smirked. “I did, didn’t I?”

You laughed.

That’s when you heard one of the men from the next table say, “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

You looked at him and he winked at you.

Matt stood up and grabbed his arm, twisting it and positioning it behind the victim. “You better watch what you say to people next time, pal. You won’t be so lucky anymore.”

The victim pleaded for release. When Matt let go, he scrambled away, leaving his partner alone and stunned.

Matt returned to your table, unaffected by the staring. “Just another day.”

You leaned forward. “God I love you, Matt Simmons.”

He followed suit and gave you a soft kiss. “And I love you, too, y/n y/ln.” You both leaned back on yours seats. As you prepared the food, Matt tilted his head and said, “You’re not into latex and whips…are you?”

You laughed. “Depends. Do you wanna try it?”

He cringed. “Not any time soon, sorry.”

You wagged your eyebrows. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

[hydra-holiday-trash-party]

Hydra Holiday Trash Party 2019 Gift Exchange Masterpost

We’re swimming in fresh, hot trash my friends, and you’re the ones who made it possible. Thank you, darling dumpster denizens, for your tags, tropes, and titillation.

Please enjoy the lovely feast of garbage that has been laid out before you, and we’ll see you for more trash in 2020!

“[Art] View of Bondage” by Sealcat for ladivvinatravestia (chose not to use archive warnings) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Hydra Trash Party, Bondage, Rope Bondage

What Steve found out at this mystery room in a Hydra Facility

“before you wake” by Hydra_Trash_Gal for MercurialTenacity (rape/non-con) Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Bucky Barnes/Jack Rollins, Dehumanization, Hydra Trash Party, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Somnophilia, Nipple Play

Jack has a complicated fetish and Brock wants to watch. The Asset sleeps through it.

“Broken Toys” by Juane_Chat for Defiler_Wyrm (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Grant Ward, Alexander Pierce, Hydra Trash Party, Bondage and Discipline, Object Insertion, Dehumanization, Identity Issues

Alexander Pierce calls in Grant Ward to correct a listless Asset, a mission neither of them dares to fail.

“Control” by Mercurial Tenacity for Aquariusgarbag (chose not to use archive warnings) Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Hydra Trash Party, past trauma, obedience, under-negotiated kink, domme Natasha, Sub Bucky Barnes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Face Slapping, Cunnilingus, Panic Attacks, Hopeful Ending, Injury, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery

“Cap needs backup,” Bucky says, trying to shrug Natasha off. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it when you bleed out on the floor.” Bucky gives her a look, to which Natasha just raises her eyebrows. “I’ll hold you down if I have to.” It’s unfortunate that Bucky is still looking at Natasha when she says that, because it means she undoubtedly sees every microexpression he makes on his journey from yes, to can’t want that, to pretend it never happened. That’s the trouble with spies. Can’t hide a damn thing.

“Fit to be tied” by buckybleeds for buckys_barn (no archive warnings apply) Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Bucky Barnes, Hydra Trash Party, Hydra Husbands, Shibari, Overstimulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Cock & Ball Torture, Bondage, accidental crafting genius bucky barnes

Bored on a mission STRIKE Alpha decides to test the limits of the Winter Soldier’s skills. Turns out he could totally be an IG influencer if he were into that kind of thing. Thankfully he can also help Jack and Brock with the kind of thing that they’re into.

“Follow Me Down (into darkest deep)” by emptydistractions for Juane_Chat (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/OMC(s), Brock Rumlow, Hydra Agents, Hydra Trash Party, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Gang Rape, Face-Fucking, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm

It was supposed to be quick - just in and out to see if they could find anything salvageable. The base was supposed to be abandoned. Hydra was supposed to be gone. Rumlow was supposed to be dead. But you know what they say about the best laid plans.

“geological time” by seinmit for glorious_spoon (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fuck Or Die, Top Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Hydra Trash Part, Shock Collar, Raped during rape recovery, Past Brainwashing, Past Rape/Non-Con, Trying to Comfort One Another, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Some Victim-Blaming/Self-Blame on Bucky’s Part, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Unaroused Victim

“They would grow up grappling with ways of living with what happened. They would try to tell themselves that in terms of geological time it was an insignificant event. Just a blink of the Earth Woman’s eye. That Worse Things had happened. That Worse Things kept happening. But they would find no comfort in the thought.” - Arundhati Roy, from The God of Small things

Bucky knows that HYDRA doesn’t need a reason to make Steve rape him.

“Growth Opportunity” by buckybleeds for BookofOdym (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con) Hank Pym/Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow/Cynthia Mercer, Full Rectal Prolapse, Macro/Micro, Size Diference, Guro, Blood and Gore, Vomiting, Rape, Sex Pollen, Hydra Trash party, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Might actually be worse than the tags, Read at your own risk, Proceed with Caution, Hurt Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers and Hank Pym get trapped in a box full of sex pollen that makes their sizes go haywire: The Musical

“Happiness in Slavery” by HaniTrash for theletterelle (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Alexander Pierce, Jack Rollins, Hydra Trash Party, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Hurt No Comfort, No Happy Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hydra sex dungeon? Yes please!

Steve is captured while on a mission and wakes up in a very uncomfortable position, surrounded by some very familiar people. Apparently HYDRA knows it can’t break his body, so they set out to break his spirit instead. And as it turns out, even the great Captain American can be broken.

“an honest liar, taking on heavy fire” by dragongirlG for BrighteyedJill (rape/noncon) Hydra Agents/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow, Isaac Murphy, Natasha Romanov, Hydra Trash Party, One Bar  Prison, Come Shot, Sex Games, Predicament Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Hand Jobs, Overstimulation, Humiliation, Dehumanization, Collars, Leashes, Aphrodisiacs, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Identity Porn, Bittersweet Ending

Steve is captured by the HYDRA STRIKE team after the fight on the highway in DC. He wakes up trapped on a one bar  prison, forced to participate in a come-shooting game that he never agreed to play. The Winter Soldier wins Steve as his prize, putting on a show of fucking him before unexpectedly helping him escape.

“a hymn called faith and misery” by glorious_spoon for TiaNaut (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con) Scott Lang/OMC(s), Scott Lang & Steve Rogers, Torture, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Restraints, Escape, Hydra Trash Party, Whump, Concussions, Hopeful Ending

Scott wakes up chained to a wall in an underground cell, and it only goes downhill from there.

“Imprints” by buckybleeds for ladivvinatravestia (rape/noncon) Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Hydra Trash Party, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering

When Bucky’s programming is triggered while raiding an abandoned HYDRA base Steve learns about how the soldier was bonded to his new handlers.

“in his limbs and joints also” by Aquariusgarbag for thefilthiestpiglet (creator chose not to use archive warnings) Bucky Barnes/Sam WIlson, Bondage, Leash, Hydra Trash Party

Sam and Bucky in Wakanda and after

“Mr. Self Destruct” by Defiler_Wyrm for seinmit (rape/non-con), Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes/OMC(s), Bucky Barnes/Hydra Agents, Sex Addiction, Unsafe Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Comeplay, Facials, Fucking Machines, Fisting, Large Cock, PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Gangbang, Gang Rape, Flashbacks, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Memory Loss, Communication Failure, M/M/M, M/M/Other (the other is a fucking machine), Sexual Fantasy, Hypothetical Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes, Clubbing, Rape Aftermath, References to Drugs, Steve Rogers has a Great Big Dick, Hydra Trash Party, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Aftercare

He’s not sure if HYDRA put this hunger in him, or if he’s always been like this, but the Winter Soldier (mission alias: James “Bucky” Barnes) has a need he must fulfill - whether it be in the back room of a club or in his room with a marvelous Machine - in spite of the terrible memories that tend to take over in the moment. He’d really prefer it if his handler Captain Rogers, would step up to the plate to feed him...and given the chance, “Bucky” will do anything he can to have it that way. Or: Bucky is addicted to dick but often suffers flashback when getting his fix; strangers, Tony, and Steve all help out in different ways.

“No One Could Save Me But You” by Anonymous for HaniTrash (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Hydra Trash Party, Hurt No Comfort, No Magical Healing Cock, Knife Play, Bucky Barnes’s Metal Arm, Depersonalization, Self-Esteem Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, No Happy Ending, Additional Warnings in Author’sNote

Brock Rumlow is delighted to be able to see Steve and Bucky reunited.

“Objects Contain the Possibility of All Situations” by BrighteyedJill for buckybleeds (graphic depictions of violence, rape/noncon) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Improvised Bondage, Bottom Steve Rogers, Triggers, Conditioning, Blood As Lube, Hurt No Comfort, Hydra Trash Party

When a trigger phrase gives the Asset explicit orders to violate Captain America, what the Asset does and what’s been done to him begin to blur.

“On the Ropes” by buckybleeds for The_Reverend (graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con) Hydra Agents/Steve Rogers, Alexander Pierce/Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier/Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins, Hydra Trash Party, Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Predicament Bondage, Gags, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, HTP is its own warning, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Hurt Steve Rogers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Branding, Chastity Device

Steve never made it out after the fight on the bridge and Pierce decided to work out some frustration in a team-building exercise. (much horribleness follows)

“Only Pain - An Artwork” by Lasenby_Heathcote for emptydistractions (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes, Art, Hydra Trash Party, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Face-Fucking, Blood, Torture, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Bucky suffers at the hands of HYDRA ~ an artwork

“Out on a Limb” by thefilthiestpiglet for Sealcat (rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, fuckpotato, Hydra Trash Party, I looked at the field and said ‘we need some Steve fuckpotato’, Rape/Non-con elements, hydra holiday trash party, hydra fucks steve nonconsensually, steve fucks bucky consensually, it’s mostly a recovery fic

Steve is missing and Bucky may be a half-recovered former weapon of HYDRA, but he is going to do whatever it takes to get Steve back in one piece. He doesn’t quite manage that last part, but Steve’s not letting that stop him, so why should Bucky?

“Self Calibration” by The_Reverend for teejcandraw (rape/non-con) Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow, Alexander Pierce, Hydra Agents, Sam Wilson, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Self-Gaslighting, Hydra Trash party

The asset needs a handler. It’s not torture if you do it to yourself, right?

“So Search and Destroy” by the letterelle for AgentMal (rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence) Bucky Barnes/Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, Melinda May, Jemma Simmons, Interrogation, Psychological Torture, Nonconsensual Fondling, Nasogastric Feeding, Suicidal Thoughts, Hydra Trash Party, (actually more of a SHIELD Trash Party this time), Face Slapping

Bucky Barnes joined up with HYDRA, betraying his country and his Captain. Phil Coulson is going to make him pay.

“used-up” by Anonymous for dragongirlG (rape/non-con) Steve Rogers, Fanart, Bondage, Gags, Crying, Creampie, Rape Aftermath

“we are not born for ourselves alone” by teejcadraw for Lasenby_Heathcote (graphic depictions of violence) Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied Sexual Content, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Scarification Dubious Consent, Hydra Trash Party, htp is its own warning, recreational stun baton use

Steve and Bucky both have memories they’d rather leave behind. Rumlow made sure at least one would be permanently ingrained.

“What We Give You” by AgentMal for Hydra_Trash_Gal (creator chose not to use archive warnings) Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Bucky Barnes, Hydra Trash Party

Rumlow and Rollins have a little fun with the asset after a mission.

And that’s all, Folks! 24 wonderful works to sustain you for a while!

You can see the full collection Here, and please follow us on Tumblr for announcements about any future Exchanges!

[im-the-punk-who]

Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that 

i’m seriously...so tired of being alone lmao. and i know everyone is - we’re all alone right now. but my alone-ness started before the pandemic - in fact i was just starting to be ready to climb out of it when this whole thing hit, and i’ve been stuck in a place i’m ready to move on from with no real way to do so. 

Steve got all the friends in the breakup. all but maybe four friends have either stopped talking to me completely, or only in that vague facebook way when i ask directly for help. I’ve lost probably 90% of the personal connections I made during the last five years. And I can’t make any new ones, not only because of the pandemic, but because i’m terrified of...what will happen when I inevitably fail again. I know i’m not good at making and keeping friends. It wasn’t ever something i was taught how to do, seeing as i never stayed in one place long enough to have them when i was growing up. i learned to be alone, and depend on myself. i learned that trusting other people was how you got hurt, and ostracized, and hurt, and hurt. 

and i really have tried? i have tried and tried and tried to tell people this, to make them understand that to be my friend means to accept this, to TELL me when i’m not being a good friend, or when i’m going too long talking to them. when they feel ignored. when i do something insensitive. 

and yet all i get is ‘oh no i would never do that to you, i’ll never leave you, well I love you and i understand and i think youre great.’

and it’s. god it’s so disheartening because then when i DO inevitably fuck up, push things to far because i get hyperfixated and nothing else matters- not even the boundaries of the people i care about - i’m the bad guy. i’ the one who didnt listen. im the one who didnt care. i’m the one who left, who was too insensitive.

and i’m not saying i am not or wasnt those things. i was. but i try - god i always fucking TRY to explain at the outset that i am like this because i have no frame of reference to be anything else. that i am trying but i need HELP. i dont need understanding, and while compassion is nice and love is great, what i need sometimes is a slap over the head.

and yet every time i get this. ‘i’ll never leave you’ - at this point i’m so conditioned to losing people that say this, I accept that at the point someone says that to me, the relationship is over. 

Steve said that to me six months into when we were dating. I knew the night we got together we weren’t going to work. but for three years i hung onto the hope that if i tried hard enough to change myself, that if i hung on that the kinks would iron out. i was fucking stupid. i was really, really fucking stupid. i wish i had been more honest, and open, and i wish i hadn’t tried so hard to insist that it was just trauma, or immaturity, or that we would grow into being able to cooexist.

The sun peeks over the horizon in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse of the night sky that is now retreating in its presence, for no two things so entirely opposite could ever coexist in the same place at the same time.

I wonder how that escaped our notice for so long.

i’m obsessed with trying to grow and fix and heal and try. i fail, but i am always trying. steve excels at accepting themselves for who they are. their flaws are their flaws and they are okay with that. 

like i said. this wasn’t news to me in 2016, and it sure as hell wasn’t news in 2019. 

i am feeling abandoned and hopeless and now, without a way forward since any funds and all the work i put into myself over the past 8 years - believing if i was successful enough and i could at least hold up my financial stability as proof that i was different (from my siblings, since my parents always said the reason they would never loan me money was because my siblings were all deadbeats who had never paid them back a dime) - believing that if I at least had that, i could accept that personally i was a failure. that it wouldn’t be a failure if i had something to balance the scales. i am dreading the emotional response when my credit score - which was finally consistently in the high 700s and low 800s, plummets to 680 because i have maxed out every source of money i have trying to stay alive and keep my pets alive, with vet bills and a roof over out heads. it seems small and inconsequential and it shouldn’t matter so much. but it does. that number represents years of sacrifice. that number represents the fact that i was getting somewhere. that i had value i could measure(which may seem unhelpful, but it was. it was beyond helpful for my self esteem and confidence to know i had assets i could use to help myself and those i cared about.)

and now i’ve lost both and i know the mountain is not unclimbable and i know the path i have to take and i know i can make it. but it also means i know the rocks i will stumble on, i know the caves that smell like death i will have to shelter in. i know the cold and damp i will endure. i know how many times i will stumble and fall and bleed and cry and scar. i’m fucking tired, and i’m alone, and knowing it gets better doesn’t make it any easier. knowing how to make it better doesn’t make it any quicker or less painful. and there is still that pesky thing called personal relationships that i will once again have to put aside to stabilize my financial life. again. 

i am bitter. i am trying not to be. but i am. i’m so fucking bitter that i am never going to get an apology, or even an acknowledgment of the fact that the hurt went both ways. that i am going to be the bad guy to people who said (not just steve) that they would love me and would understand and would support me. that i did not even warrant an explanation to their disappearance, as if my sins themselves were explanation enough. as if i know what i did and am the only one at fault. i still see pictures of steve alongside the people i still think of as my friends and they look happy and like they are at least not alone, and i have not heard from anyone since before the start of this year. 

no matter what i do it always leads to the same outcome.

I am so goddamn fucking tired. i am trying not to panic. i am trying so hard to be conscious of the patterns i will fall into. of the patterns i fell back into with steve. i am writing everything down in the hopes that if i survive this i will be able to track myself better. to be more aware of myself. 

sorry means nothing if you don’t change your behavior. 

sorry isnt what i want. it’s never what i want. i want to see that no one will go through what you put me through. what we put ourselves through. 

i am feeling very alone, and i wish i had something to hold onto, someone i could talk to who would understand. but they’re all gone. i dont want to open up to anyone anymore. 

and i know this wouldnt be as bad if i could make some new friends, if i was working, if i had something i could do to throw my focus into. i’ve always been great at distraction.

anyway my plan is to get super drunk on shitty beer in the true fashion of my alcoholic family lineage because i’ve given up on healthy coping mechanisms. those didn’t work, so at least these ones feel better. 

[laurasinele]

A Drarry drabble gone rogue.  Fictober19 prompts 4 (I know you didn’t ask for this) and 8 (Can you stay?) were chapters 1 and 2. Prompt 27,”Can you wait for me?”, is chapter 3. Chapter 4 is already up, inspired by prompt 31, but I’ll probably post it in a few days here too. 

Fandom: Harry Potter saga

Tags: recreational use of alcohol, past crush confessions

Warnings: none that comes to mind

Draco pointed his wand to the ceiling and shot green and silver sparks. He chuckled and rolled to lay on his side, facing Harry.

“That’s about it”.

“Wait, you can’t Accio things? Or even cast a small jinx if you need to defend yourself?”. Harry was laying face down on the mountain of throw pillows they had gathered by the fireplace, and he propped himself up on his elbows while he talked. Draco accidentally blew a raspberry trying to stifle a laugh. Their raiding of the Manor’s cellar had proven to be a great idea. 

“Nope. But I can make sparks!”, he said with great excitement before bursting into laughter yet once more. Harry, however, was deeply concerned by the fact, and he showed it profusely, as only drunks can show concern.

“No, no, no”, he said grabbing and shaking Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t laugh! It’s terrible! You can’t do shit!”.

Draco almost choked from laughing so hard.

“You’re so pissed! And pissed!”. He kept laughing with renewed strength.

“Mate, you can’t even FLY!”

“What? Of course I can’t fly, Potter! I’m under house arrest!”

b Harry blinked slowly. Draco’s words eventually reached his inebriated brain, he snorted and collapsed onto his face, cackling along with Draco. When the fit of laughter subsided, Draco wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eye, sighed and said:

“Seriously though, I don’t really miss it. Almost every basic charm is allowed and most of the self-care and survival spells too, so I can get chores done and keep myself healthy and safe. And entertained”, he chuckled as he produced some more coloured sparks. “Sometimes I wish I could shrink something, or levitate bigger things. Or Accio stuff I’m not really sure where in this dastardly big house is sitting. But it’s not as if I’ll ever use many more spells when the arrest is lifted”.

“What would you like to do then?”

“I haven’t thought about it for a long while now. At first it was all I could think of. I thought it would help me stay sane. I thought about investment, maybe involving muggle stock options. Investment was the family business when we weren’t consorting with genocidal madmen. That, and politics but I can’t do that for obvious reasons. Then my father died and I decided I’ll stay away of anything he ever did. I considered art, but I suck at muggle techniques and when I try to paint, dance or compose magically, it all turns into dark, depressing stuff”.

“Yeah”, said Harry sympathetically. “Hermione told me that happens when you go through a major trauma by dark magic”.

Draco nodded and inadvertently adopted a more serious, almost academical tone.

“Exactly. There is a lot of literature about it”, he said waving his hand to the shelves, packed with books and scrolls. Harry had learned those were only the ones Draco wanted to keep at hand, and somewhere in the manor there was an immense library. “That led me to consider a career in healing, specifically treating this kind of trauma. I always was good at potions and–”

“Well, you got good grades but…”

“I’ve already told I’m good at it, it wasn’t because of Severus favoritism so drop it already you moron”, said Draco without real bite. Harry rose his hands in mock-surrender, wearing a toothy grin. “Good. The thing is I’ve been thinking about all this again since you first mentioned your therapist. I’m trying to find more information and see if there is a way to make healing charms, healing potions and muggle psychiatry work together, because magical healing has always disregarded mental and emotional problems. But it’s just, you know… Something to keep myself busy. I don’t think the Ministry would consider seriously anything I suggested”.

Harry looked earnestly impressed, to the point of needing a couple of seconds to give an articulated reply.

“That’s… That’s actually a great idea. I could talk to Hermione and Martha, that’s my therapist. I’m sure they’d be interested. It would mean taking their program one step further to reach the whole magical community. They could help you in your research and back you up before the Ministry”.

Draco scoffed.

“Oh, come on, Potter. It’s not as if I can propose a bill while serving my sentence.”

“Actually, I don’t think there is any law against that”, replied Harry, appearing to Draco full of conviction and somehow eager for him to jump into it. He felt equally endeared and unsettled. He felt fear of disappointing someone for the first time since the end of the war.

“I don’t know”, he said non-commitantly. “I’ll think about it. What about you, what are your prospects in life?”, he asked impulsively, out of desire to change the subject and move the attention away from him.

Gradually coming down from his drunkenness, Harry huffed at that and made himself comfortable on the scattered pillows, rearranging them absentmindedly while he contemplated his answer.

“Truth is, I don’t really think about it either. I mean, I’m not trying to play the victim in front of someone who is deprived of his freedom...”, Harry said dramatically. Draco kicked him playfully as he groaned “Oh, fuck off”, and waited for him to talk seriously with a snarky smile on his face. “Well, my life before school was shit. I was sort of an elf. A very mistreated one. I had no way to know things could get better and, when they did, all the ‘Boy who lived’ bullshit came crashing down on me. I never really had time to think about it properly. I sort of followed the logical path. I don’t love it, though. It gets frustrating and repetitive. Hermione suggested teaching Defense. Ron says I should have gone pro at quidditch”.

“You were good, that’s a fact”, Draco conceded. Then, before he could catch himself, a belly full of chocolate, sugar and wine, and a brain addled by several hours of lounging by the fire got the best of him, speaking his thoughts out loud: “And you looked so fit”. He immediately slapped his mouth shut, but Harry was already prepared to taunt him, eyes shining with mischief and a wide open smile.

“No bloody way! You liked me?”

“Shut up!”

“Never! You, always so posh and entitled, liked me, a walking disaster! This is hilarious!”

“It’s not!”, exclaimed Draco. It came out muffled because he was covering his beet red face.

“I thought you said you were into Cedric. Is it some kind of kink? Like a seeker kink?”

Draco sent an onslaught of blind slaps in Harry’s direction.

“Would you just shut it, Potter!”

“Not in a million years! This is gold, Malfoy!”. 

Draco pouted comedically. 

“Aw, alright, don’t be upset”, said Harry between giggles as he held Draco close, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “If it makes you feel better, I had a small crush/massive hate thing going on about you”.

Draco stiffened almost imperceptibly, but Harry noticed it because he had stiffened to upon hearing his own words and realising what their current position was. They remained silent a long while, neither of them moving, listening to each other’s hearts beating wildly with shock and something akin to expectation. Finally Draco pushed lightly back and Harry parted his arms so he could move. They were looking at each other now, not much more than two inches apart. Draco was the first to break the silence.

“Either if I ask you this or not, I think I will regret it forever. So I’m going to go ahead and do it, if that’s alright.” Harry nodded, Draco took a deep breath. “Would it be wrong if I kissed you right now?”

Harry remained silent, looking into Draco’s eyes totally transfixed. He took such a long time to react that Draco was about to panic, but he finally let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, rested his forehead on Draco’s and closed his eyes. 

“Please, do kiss me, I’d like that very much”, he whispered. 

“Okay”, mumbled Draco, and he closed the distance between their lips, only to stop in the last beat by a hitch in Harry’s breath.

“We can’t”, said Harry. He sounded angry and defeated. “I’m an auror and you are a convict”.

“I think you’ll agree with me in that we are so much more than that”, replied Draco softly.

“I do, but even if you consent to it, there are wards against this. I’d be forcibly removed from here and wouldn’t be able to come and see you for the rest of your penance”. Draco closed his eyes and channeled his present frustration in one long exhale, nestling his head under Harry’s chin. Harry tightened his embrace. “I’ll wait if you do”, he said feebly, bracing himself fo Draco to say it was just a stupid teenage crush rekindled by drinking and fishing out memories. But Draco, pressed against his chest, snorted. 

“I’ve got nothing else to do other than wait, and waiting for you is far more enticing than my current prospects. But you?”, he asked as he backed a little and found Harry’s gaze. “Saviour of the Wizarding Britain, most powerful wizard alive and most eligible bachelor of our generation. Can you wait for me?”.

He wasn’t demanding for Harry to wait. He wasn’t doubting his word either. He was just kindly offering him a way out, which Harry refused. He held Draco tightly and buried his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply as Draco’s hands found their way up to his shoulder blades.

“Let’s just pause this. I’ll keep coming for counselling. I’ll keep pretending I don’t notice you’re low key flirting with me, and I’ll keep low key flirting back. I’ll keep watching you grow and heal, and I’ll keep growing and healing myself. I’ll keep treasuring our friendship that I would have never seen coming. Two years from now, when the house arrest is lifted, ask me again”.

[pokimoko]

STEVEN UNIVERSE: THE MOVIE - Personal Commentary

I wrote this to send to a friend, but I decided I might as well post it on here. I did a large portion of this while I was watching the movie, but I did go back and improve on some parts after I was finished, so forgive the inconsistent tenses. I apologise for the length as well, which is a result of me getting completely carried away and analysing a lot of the movie (I bet my English teachers are cheering). Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy my personal thoughts on the Steven Universe movie. (Also, spoilers if you haven’t already watched it.)

- The opening....wow. Not only is it pretty but it's just so dramatic. It reminds me quite a bit of old fashioned Disney musicals (I’m guessing that was their intention). Even the layout of the credits are giving me that vibe. But especially the music. Very fairytale-esque.

- 16 year old Steven, yeah booiii! Now he’s only a few years younger than me. I do like his older voice and design. Bet Zach Callison is relieved that he doesn't have to pitch his voice up high anymore. And I personally really love the pan flag colour scheme of his new outfit. I wonder if they’ll keep it for the season(s) following the movie.

- Aww, the Diamonds are learning. Sort of. They’re maybe just a tad clingy, but that's still improvement. I really love how Steven Universe never makes the 'villians' completely evil, only misguided, and that everyone is capable of changing their ways. Such a great message. (Edit: Ooohh, I unintentionally called what I'd say is the moral of the movie. Noice.)

- Naaww, Steven and Connie are so cute. Steven's happy little grin after the kiss was just adorable.

- Oooh, I like the 'Here We Are in the Future' (Edit: 'Happily Ever After') song. It just shows how much they've all grown over the course of the series. And it’s a great way to recap the journeys of each of the original Crystal Gems to the audience.

- "PEW PEW" Yeesss. I love their handshake. And oh my god, he really is so tall compared to Amethyst now.

- Oh my god, they're reenacting the running sequence from the opening. Love me a parallel. Just shows how far they’ve all come.

-Okay, why do the 'bad' guys in musicals always get such cool songs? Spinel's song was so catchy. Now I'm super curious about her relation to Pink Diamond. Oh cool! A scythe. That's awesome.....AH! Okay, nevermind. Nooo.

- 'Losing your powers' angst. I love it (yes, I know, I'm terrible).

- Greg: "Holy shhhhhheee really got everybody" Me: 😏 I see what you did there.

- Steven: "I have no idea what's going on." Greg: "Well now you know how I feel most of the time." Greg is so relatable sometimes. Kindly stop being my spirit animal, sir.

- AHHH! They've all been reset. Craaappp! And I was just going on about growth and everything! But I'm excited to see what happens because I love angst, god damn it. It always helps to make the happy ending all the more satisfying. (And...admittedly, the amnesia narrative device has always been a guilty pleasure of mine. I’ve always enjoyed how it allows you to so clearly see how a character has evolved over time and how much their experiences have defined their identity.)

- "Something is clearly wrong," Pearl sings happily and bug-eyed. Excellent and relatable. That's how I react to most things in life, honestly.

- "I could have lost all of my character development." Ha! Never subtle, are you Peridot? But also nooooo, not Peridot. Don't you dare touch her. She's grown so much and I love her dearly (and also Lapis' top notch dark humour. Perfect.)

- Sad song reprise is sad. I totally understand what Steven is feeling too. Things you’ve gotten so used to (hell, maybe even become dependent on for your emotional welbeing) can disappear so quickly that it can be quite a whiplash to have it gone, so it's completely normal to struggle to accept it, and to yearn for what you had not so long ago.

- Bismuth saying “We are the Crystal Gems” has watered my crops and cleared my skin. And I love her singing voice; the roughness in some parts suits her character so well.

- Rupphire Rupphire RUPPHIRE GAAAARRRNNNEEETTT, yiissss! Wow the fusion animation is really awesome. It's like a behind-the-scenes on how it works from their perspective. But I love how the two of them fusing together doesn't fix Garnet's memories or make her exactly how she was before losing them. Garnet isn't just an experience; she's also a product of her experiences.

- Lil' trumpet salute! Naww, Pearl, that's adorable.

- ....is Onion....immortal? He still looks exactly the same. 😟 I'm unnerved by that child and whatever power he had.

- Oooh, tap dancing. I love tap dancing! Even if Steven is wearing sandals while doing it. Oh boy, I love the friendship between Amethyst and Steven. It's always been one of my favourite things in the show. It's kind of like the sibling interaction I've always wished to have myself: supportive and wholesome. And I also love how their fusion shows that platonic and familial love is just as powerful as romantic love. Oh, YAY Amethyst is back! Like I said, friendship is a powerful thing.

- Oh my god, Steven and Greg are going to fuse. Ahhhh! Oh wow, it's basically Elvis with a six pack! Hehehe, so weird. But not bad either. And, oh wow, what a great song! Individuality is my kink.

- The ANGST is making me feel emotions. Steven looks so ragged, and the high pitched whining in his ears definitely added to that. And having felt that terrible myself a few times, I know how much it frigging sucks. And just like him I brushed other people's concerns off, so I'd be a hypocrite to tell him to take care of himself. (But I am a hypocrite. Take care of yourself, Steven!)

- Yep, here's the tragic backstory to make me sad about Spinel. Hit me where it hurts why don't you. Gosh, Pink Diamond really did some messed up things when she was younger (but thankfully she evolved from that and changed to become Steven). Leaving someone behind without giving them closure or even a reason would mess someone up for sure. You'd feel completely worthless. And unfortunately, being noticed for any reason⁠—good or bad⁠—is generally a way to cope with that feeling. Spinel is doing what she can to deal with what Pink did to her, and that unfortunately involves lashing out and hurting others.

- The 'True Kinda Love' song! Knew it'd turn up at one point. Knowing the context makes it so much better too. And hell yeah, Garnet is back!

- Blood? On this Christian Server? It's more likely than you think.

- “This is the story of my life.” Ahh! Steven's just a kid, and he's gone through so much. But, I gotta say, he is absolute proof that having a rough childhood and being a flawed person in the past (*cough* Pink Diamond *cough*) doesn't condemn you to being a wicked person forever. Anyone, regardless of their circumstances and experiences, can be a good person. Your early years don't define your identity or what will become of your future.

- Spinel: “When you change, you change for the better. When I change, I change for the worse. I used to be just not good, just not good enough for Pink. Now I'm not good at all!” Damn. That's powerful. Trauma can be such a difficult thing to overcome, and some people lose their way in their attempt to leave it behind. Sometimes, though, growing doesn't mean changing yourself and erasing the past; sometimes it means accepting the parts of your past that made you who you are now. Showing the importance of past experiences through the Crystal Gem's recovery of their identities is such a smart way of showing this concept to the audience. Such a great analogy. Now, let's hope Spinel can accept that though she has been changed as a result of her trauma, that doesn't make her ‘bad’ or unworthy of love (because that’s just not true!)

- “There's no such thing as happily ever after”. Sad but true. And also turning the whole Disney vibe the movie began with in on its head. Very smart.

- Steven: “I'll always have more work to do”. Then, Spinel: “I've got work to do. Friendship isn't going to be easy for me. I'm gonna have to work at it”. Exactly. That's how it is. ‘Happily ever after’ is a stagnant concept, and staying the same person for the rest of your life isn't healthy. And deciding to work towards improving yourself can sometimes be the hardest step to take when it comes to overcoming trauma. But change can be good; you should always keep working on improving yourself, no matter how comfortable you are with who you are and where you're at. Evolution is a part of living.

- Ooooh, White Diamond got sassy. She even has the hand gestures down. She’s making up for all the years she spent T-posing.Good for her.

- Oh my gosh, the focus on the Diamond's hands! Instead of destroying, their holding a hand out in a gesture of friendship. Seriously, that's frigging growth. That's such a cool parallel too. Rebecca Sugar and her crew are just brilliant.

- I'm so glad the Diamonds got someone to love and help them through their grief, and Spinel got someone to love her unconditionally, regardless of the flaws she thinks she has. They all got someone to help them heal. That’s wonderful.

- “I can make a change.” 👏Yes👏you👏can! That's your superpower.

Damn, that was so wonderful! I've always loved the message of personal growth, and the movie did it so well. In my opinion, Steven Universe has always been great at analogies to explain real life things (ie. Malachite being a metaphor for toxic relationships) so I really like how they used to amnesia narrative device to show not only how much someone can change and grow over time, but also to show it's our experiences, good and bad, that shape us as a person. Lots of people have traumatic experiences in their life that can inadvertantly shape a lot of their personality, and it can be hard to leave that behind, especially if so much of your identity is dependent on those experiences. Sometimes they can lead us to becoming ‘bad’ people, but they can also help make us good people too. Just look at Steven! He was able to accept his past traumas and use them so as to help others heal their own. 

Trauma isn't something you can erase without erasing a large part of your identity. It can be tough to live with, nonetheless. Sometimes, like Spinel, you just need a helping hand in accepting the scars life has given you; to help you grow beyond it and maybe even eventually be able to help others who are going/have gone through similar experiences.

And there's no shame in trying to be better and failing over and over again. At least you are trying. Because trying to be good against all odds, against the whole world doing its best to destroy you, shows just how strong you really are.

-----------

Sorry for getting flowery (and maybe just a tad projective). As you can see I just really like the moral of the movie, as well as pretty much every other aspect. I'm sure there's a lot of little intricacies I missed, but this is what I took from my first viewing of it. And these are just my opinions; you might have got a whole different vibe from the movie. You are completely welcome to add you own thoughts and improve upon mine (because I am by no means an expert).

So, to summarise my own thoughts on the movie, I’m just going to say: Personal growth for the win!

[the-woman-upstairs]

Yuletide Letter 2018

Dear Author,

Hello and thank you so much for giving me the gift of fic! Listed below are all the relevant details that should help you in your writing, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me an anonymous message.

Here are some of my general likes and dislikes that should give you some guidelines for writing.

General Likes: Fluff, sexual tension, romantic tension, mutual pining, friends turned lovers, family bonding, protective family/friends/significant others, fake dating, holding hands, zombie apocalypse au, cuddling, happy endings, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional support, snowed-in, public declarations of love, soulmate au, relaxing/adventuring together, rebuilding trust, kidfic, high school au, non-sexual romantic gestures

General DNWs: Rape/non-con, BDSM, gore, extreme violence, torture, unhappy endings, character deaths, watersports, emotional/mental/physical abuse (parental/domestic), humiliation, incest, pedophilia, slurs of any kind, somnophilia, A/B/O dynamics, scat, emetophilia, bloodplay, breathplay, hate crimes, misogyny, homophobia, racism, first person POV, Dom/sub, ageplay, underage, vote, food kink, mommy/daddy kink, character bashing

Here are all my fandoms including characters and a few prompts if you’d like to use them.

Mission Impossible (Movies)

Characters: Benji Dunn, Ilsa Faust, Ethan Hunt

I absolutely adore all three of these characters and believe they have the most interesting dynamics with each other, especially after Fallout. What I’m really interested in is some OT3 goodness; there is just so much polyamory potential between them with their personal shared history, relatable traumas, and relationship growth from Rogue Nation to Fallout.

Prompts:

- The three of them are stranded together during a mission and through their teamwork + stressful situation realize their feelings for each other

- One is injured and the other two fret over them. Can be during or after a mission

- Benji and Ilsa rescue Ethan together and while they both know they have feelings for him, realize they’re in love with each other too

- Figuring out how to live together and enjoying domesticity with each other

- Post Fallout vacation where they help each other to heal from Lane’s attacks and fall in love in the process

The Miseducation of Cameron Post

Characters: Cameron Post, Jane Fonda, Adam Red Eagle

What really struck me about this movie were the touching and realistic bonds of friendship between the three queer teens. Conversion therapy is horrendous, but the support and love they had for one another made me emotional (not enough films that focus on queer teens being friends with each other). I’m strictly looking for gen, not interested in any romance between the three of them, but if you want to introduce an OC love interest for one or each of them that’s totally fine.

Prompts:

- What happened now that they escaped God’s Promise? Where do they end up, how do they travel together, what places do they visit, who do they meet? (Please nothing from book canon as I haven’t read it yet)

- Zombie apocalypse au and would prefer it set during the canon era. Give me some 90s culture, queer teens, and a zombie filled road trip

- Time skip where it’s been about ten years and they’ve gone on to live separate lives but are brought back together and catch up/reminisce

- Three queer teens and a baby! Somehow in their travels they find a baby and despite the obvious hardships, work together to take care of them and give them better love and support than the three of them received

- Musician au where the three of them play completely different instruments and genres but manage to cobble together an awesome band as a means of openly queer artistic expression

Searching

Characters: David Kim, Margo Kim

The father-daughter relationship in this movie really tore me up in how raw and real it was and I just want to see more of it, either post-movie or in a kind of au

Prompts:

- These two would be interesting to see in a zombie apocalypse au. Surviving together, David doing anything to protect Margo while she proves skilled at surviving herself

- Father daughter road trip post-movie! What’s their destination? Any cool or weird sight-seeing? Would like to see them enjoying the time together but also openly grieving over Pam together about how she can’t be there with them

- David meeting someone new and the two of them dealing with him dating again and the possibility of another long term paternal presence in Margo’s life

- Father daughter detective agency. Can either be an au on its own or post-movie canon. Cases they take on, uncovering corruption, reuniting families, working together to help others like them

- Margo’s first year in college documented through her e-mail, Skype, texts, misc digital messaging with her father

Blockers

Characters: Angelica, Sam, Julie, Kayla

The emphasis on positive female friendships was such a wonderful part of this film and I really would like that to be the focus of any fic for this fandom. I included Angelica because I’d also be very interested in having Angelica/Sam be a background relationship with the focus being on the friendships or the central relationship that the other friends help/support Sam with.

Prompts:

- The girls helping get Sam and Angelica together, whether it’s through flirting tips or setting up dates or

- Sam (with Angelica) goes to pride for the first time and Julie and Kayla come to support (maybe they also explore their own queer identities? Feel free to experiment with that concept)

- Future fic where Sam and Angelica are getting married and the friends go through all the cliches (bachelorette party, family getting together, panic/stress in general) together while also reminiscing and strengthening their friendship

- Future fic where the three of them become moms and help each other deal with parenting

- Any exploration of their friendship before senior year. Include all the cliches you’d like: homecoming games, sports or academic competitions, bonding over love or hatred of school subjects, etc

Baby Driver

Characters: Darling/Monica, Debora

I adore the movie as is but I would also 100% love it more as a lesbian car chase/heist film.

Prompts:

- Events of the film but Deb is the driver and she falls in love with darling

- Post movie where darling survives and seeks out deb

- Deb takes that cross country drive with darling instead of baby

- Supernatural creature au darling as a vampire, deb as a werewolf

- Initially, darling just hooks up with deb (smut is highly appreciated) but then falls in love with her

The Nice Guys

Characters: Jackson Healy, Holland March, Holly March

This movie is already great but would have been improved by 100% if Holland and Jackson had kissed at the end. The co-parenting dynamic they adopted towards the end of the film was so sweet and I’m an absolute sucker for queer family dynamics. Add the time period to that and there’s loads of great fic possibilities.

Prompts:

- Holly accidentally calls Jackson “dad” and Holland freaks out like he does but realizes he wants Jackson around, in both a “dad to holly” way and “I’m in love with you” way

- Family road trip vacation with plenty of pining between Jackson and Holland, realization of feelings, and Holly setting her dads up

- Beach vacation where Holland and Jackson can appreciate each other’s dad bods in bathing suits

- Case fic where one of the guys ends up in danger or kidnapped and feelings are realized/revealed

- Holland gets a lot of attention from women AND men (oblivious to it naturally) and Jackson finds himself feeling jealous and Holly helps him woo her dad

Thank you so much for writing my Yuletide fic, I can’t wait to read it!