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eyes-of-metal · 2 months ago

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A World Without Heroes

Mystical Magical KISS AU

(Or the one where Bruce has no powers but must save them all)

Chapter Two: Within

Tag list: @elrohare @ravenh37 @chikarachick (Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Sola’s POV

I sigh as I close another filing cabinet door; we’ve found nothing to help us. We might be screwed. Come on, Dad, you have to have something.

I open the next door, take the first file out, and begin sorting through it. Bruce searches through all the comics on the shelf next to me. It’s all KISS comics.

Wait.

What if the comics contain clues? I always used to think they were just made-up stories. My dad loves superheroes and horror, so I always thought the comics were based on that. I realize now that they might not be made up at all. What if it's been in front of us this whole time?

“Bruce, what if the comics contain clues? Things that could help us?” I suggest, bending down next to him and picking up a comic book.

“You know what? That's a good point.” Bruce agrees, pulling out another one.

“They have stories about stuff like this, right? What if Dad wrote something into them?” I say, flipping through and scanning it for Talisman, The Council of the Elder or anything along those lines.

“This makes sense; hiding in plain sight has been their thing since day one.” Bruce agrees, his eyes scanning the book pages in front of him.

I reached for another comic; the spine says it came out on the same day as my birthday, January 1st. As I do so, something white falls out of it.

I look down to see what it is. It's a white envelope with my name written across the front in back ink. I recognize the handwriting; it's my dad's.

Bruce stops what he's doing and watches me pick up the letter. Maybe my dad didn't leave me out in the cold after all.

I rip it open, pulling out the letter; a key falls out, and I pick it up as I start reading.

Sola, if you’re reading this, something terrible must have happened to me. In that case, you need to go to the KISS warehouse. I left you a key, and you will find the answers there. Remember, music is the key.

-Love Dad

“What does it say?” Bruce asks, clearly hoping for something that can help us. Luckily, he's in luck.

“He says to go to the KISS warehouse; there, you will find the answers,” I tell Bruce, folding up the letter and sticking it and the key in my back pocket.

“Let's go then,” Bruce says, getting to his feet with me behind him.

As we pass through the kitchen, I pause. I haven't eaten anything since this morning and suddenly feel hungry. I guess I've been so preoccupied with mystical beings and this quest that I have never paid attention to it until now.

I walk over to my dad's fridge and look for something to eat. This might be my last chance for a while.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks curiously, standing in the doorway.

“Getting something to eat,” I tell him, “Listen, I'm still only a human, even if I'm on a mystical magical quest.”

“Well, come to think of it, I could eat.” Bruce laughs, coming up next to me. “They always conveniently leave this part out of these stories.”

“Thats how you know this is real life.” I joke as I pull out some cold cuts, cheese, mayo, and water bottles.

Bruce grabs the loaf of bread on the countertop and moves it to the island before taking out four slices.

It feels very domestic, like we’re a married couple making lunch in our mansion. If someone was looking in and had no idea, they might think just that. They'd never know we were just a couple of friends trying to beat the forces of evil to a magical talisman.

I can't pretend I haven't thought about what being with Bruce would be like. He's a sweet, funny, talented, and good-looking guitar player. We've become good friends, but that's all we can be.

Unfortunately, Bruce is my dad’s guitar player, and I know that my dad would not like us being together. I can't do that to Bruce, so it has to stay in my imagination.

I close up my sandwich as I watch Bruce clean off the knives we used. Even in a crisis, he's still the perfect house guest. I can't imagine him hurting a fly. So, the idea of us fighting evil is pretty absurd. I know how to hit back if I have to; I've thrown a punch or two in my life, but fighting people with magic? I don't think I’ll stand a chance.

Then again, I have this magical necklace if only I knew how to use it, and Bruce is the kind of person who would do anything for the people he cares about, which might manifest as some unknown strength.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bruce says, taking a bite of his sandwich as we head out to his car.

“I take it you know where the warehouse is?” I ask as I slide into the passenger seat, the sun setting over the hills.

“Yup,” Bruce replies as he starts the car, “Do you think the talisman is hidden in the warehouse?”

“I don't know,” I admit. “It would be easy, but I highly doubt it is that simple.”

“I agree, but at the very least, I hope we find out more about all of this,” Bruce comments, the golden hour light casting a nice glow on his handsome face.

I'm happy I’m not doing this alone. I don't think I'd have the strength, but knowing someone is here with me makes it much more manageable. I hope we can figure this out in time to save them. I'm terrified. I don't want to admit that, but what if I could do this? What if I try and fail and can't save my dad? What if evil wins?

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Bruce’s POV

I know Sola is scared. I can see it in her eyes. She's trying to hide it, but I can see it. I'm afraid, too. I'm not a hero; I'm just a guy who plays guitar in a rock band. The catch is that the rock band is filled with Mystical Guardians, and now I have to save them.

The irony of the only one without magic having to save them all isn't lost on me. They decided I wasn't worthy of this power. I wonder why? Maybe it's because the talisman switched hands several times, and they didn't want that again, or perhaps they didn't see me as worthy.

I hope they hid magical weapons like a phaser gun from Star Trek in the warehouse. Otherwise, I'm pretty fucked. I can't fight; I was never that guy who got into fights as a kid. I was the Jewish kid they picked on. I try to avoid fighting of any kind, verbal or physical, you name it, and I try to avoid it. I'm more of the kill-them-with-kindness type.

Then again, maybe if I were put in a situation where I had no choice, my fight-or-die instinct would take over. I have a feeling I’ll find this out sooner rather than later.

I know Sola knows how to throw a punch. I’ve seen her break a guy's nose who got a little too handsy with her. She can handle her own, which is a good thing. She also has a necklace. She has no idea how to use it, but she's smart, and I think she’ll eventually get it. I hope she does anyway.

I look into the parking lot as we pull up to the KISS warehouse, where we store all our extra gear, old stage sets, and clothes. The only car in the lot is Eric’s silver Porsche.

It was a much nicer and more recognizable car than my Ford. Gene and Paul gave it to him when he first joined. He got a car and the talisman, and I got nothing. He had to have been here before he disappeared.

“Eric was here,” I tell her, pointing to the car. “That’s his.”

“Hmmm..” Sola ponders, “He must have needed something, right?”

“Right.” I agree, “I just hope it's not what we need.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out,” Sola says, opening the car door.

She pulls the key out of her back pocket and unlocks the door. We walk into the space, which is filled with various things, including guitars, trunks of stuff, and different stage sets.

“Do you have any idea what we are looking for?” I asked Sola if she had read Gene's letter, but I hadn't.

“Nope, so just look for anything that seems alien or could lead to a secret door?” Sola suggests as she starts looking at a rack of clothes.

I start by looking at a rack of guitars. They’re Paul touring Ibanez PS120s guitars with a black finish.

I pick up some of them to see if anything happens, but nothing does. I set the guitars down and then focused on the wall behind them. It's just a blank wall, nothing once again.

I walk to the part with all the stage sets. They've been broken down into pieces. Sometimes, the band reuses parts in different sets. I spot the giant KISS logo we used on the latest show, with the multi-coloured lights.

Hmmm. It will take all day if we keep going about the search like this. Then I remember the letter.

“Sola, can I see the letter?” I ask her if maybe there is a clue hidden in the letter itself.

Sola hands me over the letter.

It’s short and sweet. You can tell Gene wrote it; the last line stands out. “Music is the key.”

Then it dawned on me. Music is the key to opening or finding whatever he sent us here for. Cresita mentioned how music powers the magic and allows people to access it. That's how we see what we’re looking for.

“Sola, grab me a guitar,” I tell her as I walk over to where I spotted an amp earlier.

“Okay?” She says, sounding slightly confused as she takes a guitar off the rack.

“Music is the key.” I explain to her, “We need to play music to find whatever your dad sent us here for.”

“Music is the key,” Sola repeats, a look of realization crossing her beautiful face as she hands me the guitar.

I plug it into the amp and turn it up to ten. I'm unsure if volume has anything to do with this, but I'm not about to risk it.

I’m not entirely sure what I should play. Should it be a KISS classic? Should it be one of the songs I played on from the newest album? Does the song choice matter? There is only one way to find out.

I start playing the solo for Uh! All Night is the first thing that pops into my head. As my fingers move across the strings, a part of the wall glows in a bright white light. It gets more colourful and brighter until it eventually disappears, and in its place is a doorway to something.

“Holy shit.” Sola curses next to me, “It worked.”

Well, maybe being a guitar player will benefit me in this quest.

I take a few steps closer to the opening and peer in. It leads to a stone tunnel lined with torches, like something you'd find in a medieval castle.

I shoot Sola a look over my shoulder.

“Together?”

“Together.” She nods in agreement as we Enter the tunnel, me in front of her behind me.

I'm not letting Sola go first; I’d rather risk myself than put her in danger. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to her, something I could have prevented.

The stone has what looks like some alien language carved into it, along with carvings of different KISS-type makeup designs and some objects.

The tunnel eventually ends with stairs leading down into a big open room. In the middle of the room is a big wooden table with an old-looking book, which hovers over it in some gold-sparkling force field.

The walls around the table all have hovering instruments, but the shimmering forcefields are different colours. The first guitar is sapphire blue, the bass is scarlet red, the drumsticks are orange, and the second guitar is purple.

The bass has the Demon makeup carved above it, the drumsticks the Fox, and the purple guitar the Starchild. The other guitar doesn't have anything above it. That must be where my persona is supposed to be.

The wall directly across from the entrance has a display case carved into the rock—a few more magical-looking books are sitting on it.

I walk down the stairs, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Sola followed behind me.

“What is this place?” She asks, looking around in wonder.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug; if I was going to guess, it’s their version of the Batcave. I approach the book on the table. The script on the cover is the same alien language carved into the wall.

Shit. I can't read Alien.

I reach out to open it anyway. Maybe it's a picture book, and I can still piece something together.

I touch the book and feel a sudden jolt of electricity run through my body. Suddenly, I'm not in the room anymore. I'm standing in a room with a marble floor and large marble columns. Four figures stand around me. They’re cloaked, just like Cresita was. This must be the Council of the Elder she was talking about. I can feel the power in the room, magic radiating off them.

One of the figures steps forward, never revealing their face. They speak, their voice loud and powerful.

“Bruce Kulick of Earth, you seek to know where the fourth Talisman is. We can't tell you. Searching for it is part of your destiny; we can't interfere with destiny. Your companion contains the key to finding it. You must help her see the path to victory.”

Before I can ask any questions, I am pushed violently back. It feels like whiplash like I'm being shoved violently back. It only lasts a second, and I'm back in the room, catching my breath. Sola is shaking me.

“Bruce!”

“I-I touched the book and had just had some kind of vision.” I tell her, “I think it was the council of the elder Cresita was telling us about.”

If I had told anyone else this, their chance of believing me would be zero. I think we’ve been through enough crazy shit within the last 24 hrs. Me saying I just had a vision by touching a book seems normal to Sola.

“What did they say?”

The words are burned into my mind, so I told her what they meant to me: world for the world.

Sola sits in silence, processing it.

Where do we go from here? What key does Sola possess? How will I help her discover it? God, these mystical beings love being vague, don't they?

I look at my watch. It's past midnight. Today has been exhausting. I got touched by magic twice, and god knows tomorrow will be longer. We need to rest so our minds can be sharp to figure out this fucking riddle.

#a world without heroes #kiss band au #Kiss band fanfiction #the bitchs fanfiction

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this-is-an-open-letter · 4 months ago

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I am trying to pin down Morgan and Tessa's timeline, do you know when they started dating? I am trying to look on your blog past but I can't find anything definitive.

Good luck to looking back on my blog! I was terrible with my tags, I still am.

There's nothing definitive because neither of them have ever said the exact date.

The only thing we know is that they met in June 2019 for Enriching Lives Gala hosting by Dion Phaneuf and his wife Elisha Cuthbert who is also Tessa's friend, who essentially set them up. (I was re-watching this podcast last week looking for something else, and at the 32:00 mark she talks about them meeting and its very brief, just enough to know friends set them up).

The next thing we have that is 'definitive' is them confirming their relationship during Covid, like early days covid. So from June 2019 to March 2020, between there we can assume the normal courting happened.

I believe there were some people that had suspected they were dating before Covid or before they confirmed it during covid. I don't have any recollection of knowing until they told us.

But also Covid killed time so i dont really remember anything from 2020 to 2022, so I don't know what people saw to know this before they told us.

I also had to do a deep dive to refresh my memory and if you're looking for a proper anthology of VM in the last 6-8 years, i would suggest looking at @virtchandmoir archive - everything is there and properly tagged and that's where I went to confirm the timeline.

My thought process was - Tessa with short hair - was that pre-Olympics or Post? Then I searched Elisha Cuthbert on my blog and came up on nothing! as per usual. So I searched virtchandmoir and her archive and search function gave me the results right away- so there you go!

#tessa and morgan #look at these tags - me tagging!

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year ago

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Ooh, how exciting!! Well, in that case, I’ll share the pros and cons of my own experience with Redbubble, and maybe will help you make an informed decision.

The Pros:

It's easy. It's not like Etsy, where you have to physically make the thing you're selling; you just upload your art, and they do the hard work of printing it on the stuff and shipping it out.

There are a LOT of products. That was the main selling point for me, and I was actually surprised by how many MORE products there are available that people just aren't advertising! You can get your art on a mug, a water bottle, a throw pillow, a shower curtain, a tote bag, a doggy mat...of course most people just buy stickers, in my experience—understandably so, since that's the most inexpensive thing—but who knows? Somebody just might want a mug with Frodo's face on it. And I wanted that to be an option for them.

You can set your own profit margin. You wanna make 10% of the sales? 20%? 50%? That's in your power to decide. I set mine really low, because I wanted things to be at prices that I'd want to buy them, but if you're hoping to make more money off your art than two bucks a year you can set it higher.

The products are good. They're nothing extraordinary, but they are what it says on the tin. The stickers stick, the pins pin, and the posters look pretty dang sweet. I use bright colors in my art, and those bright colors are still there when the products arrive. So I think that means the printing is pretty dang good.

The Cons:

The interface to design how you want your art to appear on each product, while adequate, isn't terribly detailed, and that can be frustrating if you're a perfectionist like me. Some designs have different sizes—like the phone cases and mugs—and you're not always able to chose how your art looks on the different sizes.

If you, like me, want to sell fandom art, you have to be careful with your titles and not use specific keywords that the bots can recognize as a copyrighted thing, or else they'll quietly wipe your art off the site without even telling you why. For instance, I can use the word "hobbit" in my art, as candles on a cake, but the title can't be "Happy Hobbit Day" or the design will get taken down.

There's something in the terms and conditions that says the art you upload to the website kinda sorta not really belongs to them and they can use it for advertising and stuff. I figure it's worth the risk, since it's astronomically unlikely that a small artist's stuff will be used for anything without their permission, but I would understand if the potential squicks you out.

Not sure if this counts as a con, but it is a warning: I don't have enough experience with the site to know how to garner and grow an audience there. If you, like me, have a following elsewhere that wants to buy your art, you should be just fine; but if you want to get big on Redbubble, you'll probably have to make heavy use of the tag system so that your art shows up in search results.

Truth be told: I'm not an expert! I'm pretty much as hands-off on this thing as one could possibly be. My Redbubble store is like that little potted cactus that you bought and placed on your windowsill and promptly forgot about, and you only water it every two months when a bolt out of the blue (or, in my case, a random email) reminds you that it exists. If you want to make a lot of money on Redbubble, I am not the person to ask; but if you want to print your art on a bunch of random crap and sell it online—and you want to do it in a way that's easy to set up and kinda runs on its own without you—in my experience, this is a good option.

I hope this helps, @butterflies-and-bumble-bees! Good luck with your art and your resolution!

what made you choose redbubble as a platform to sell your art, as opposed to other similar sites?

I dunno. Just seemed convenient, and I wasn’t aware of any other options. But if you’ve got some good alternatives to Redbubble—with the same variety of products and ease of getting things printed—I’d be happy to hear about them!

#reblog #lady glasses speaks #for store (and seven years ago)#redbubble is a dumpster fire but it's a USEFUL dumpster fire #not much unlike tumblr tbh

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blainesebastian · 2 years ago

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bad day

words: 1,766 ship: austin butler x reader summary: ( @benhardysbaby5 requested) “soft!austin + hurt/comfort’ notes: definitely hope it provides a bit of comfort sweetheart! enjoy :) thanks for the request. (masterlist is here, request page is here) warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @rairaielv

It’s just one of those days.

You confuse two Fridays so when you wake up, you assume Austin will be there, but he’s out all day with his agent going over the nuts and bolts of a new film, obligations and the like. You stretch your arm across the cold sheets, searching for him, groaning when you come up empty. Pressing your face into his pillow, you breathe him in and fall back asleep. Which would be fine, except you don’t hear your alarm go off and you’re late to a brunch with your aunt.

A brunch in which you thought you’d have Austin to take some of the heat off yourself because your aunt is kinda nasty. It’s all passive aggressive, low-key kind of commentary about what you’re doing with your life and how your brother is already married, has one kid and is in the process of buying a new home. Your brother is slightly older than you are and has had his life mapped out since he was a teen, who cares if you’re still figuring things out? You’ve got time.

Then, if that’s not bad enough, you’re playing phone tag with your boyfriend. You know he’s busy and you don’t fault him for that, especially since he’ll be home tonight. It’s just, when you’re having a rough day, sometimes just hearing his voice is enough to completely turn it back around. Seems like that luck just isn’t in your favor.

Especially when things continue to go wrong—nothing catastrophic, nothing that’d ruin a typical person’s day. But when you’re already feeling tender from a terrible brunch out with your aunt, and missing your boyfriend, it just starts piling up. You went to buy some groceries to make Austin dinner, but the straps on the bag you brought broke when you had glass jars inside. They shattered on the floor, the only good thing is that Whole Foods employees were taking it easy on you, letting you switch things out, no mess, no fuss.

When you get back to your apartment, your cat has decided she wants to be a bitch today and shred one of the blankets on your couch, you catch your finger in the sliding glass door to your balcony replacing some succulents that have committed plant-a-cide, and your email pings with a notification that the birthday present you ordered Austin is on backorder.

You find yourself in the kitchen taking a deep breath and making yourself another cup of coffee (probably not the best for your nerves, but it’s often a comfort drink for you), “Keep it together,” You tell yourself, shaking your head lightly, “Just a bad day, not a bad life.”

It’s a mantra that sounds corny within itself but you can’t be about to cry just because the universe has decided to make you a punching bag today. Your feelings are valid, your frustration understandable but…it’s just one day, just one blip in your timeline, tomorrow will be better.

Straightening your shoulders, you steel yourself by grounding your feet into the kitchen floor. You’re gonna start over. You glance at the time and according to the last text you got from Austin, he should be home in about two hours. Perfect amount of time to make dinner, get your mind off the no-good-day.

Your mom taught you how to make this easy chicken parm dish that you can bake in the oven, so you set out to do just that. For a while, you fall into the simplicity of working with your hands, going through the motions of putting food together. You get the chicken in the oven, the pasta boiling on the stove—and then your phone rings.

It’s your aunt and God, you know better than to answer, and yet for some reason you swipe open and time completely disappears into a vortex. She wants to schedule another lunch or dinner with you and Austin, and you…unfortunately know what that means, asking unnecessary and ridiculous questions about your futures. The only thing that could complete the shame circle would be if your brother were to join with his perfect family.

There are plenty holidays set aside for that drama, you’re not about to let your aunt rope you into that—despite how many good intentions she might have.

A breath of relief leaves your mouth as you hear the front door open and you quickly end the call to greet your boyfriend. That’s cut far too short, however, when you hear the smoke alarm begin to blare in the kitchen. Your eyes widen, cutting the corner short and speeding towards the oven…

The oven which is now smoking as you turn it off, attempting to pull the chicken out. You forgot to turn the timer on when your aunt called. The noodles look like they’re about to hold a mutiny too, practically boiling over on the stove. Austin slips in behind you, reaching for the smoke alarm on the ceiling as he stands on a chair and you let out a slight yelp in the chaos as you set down the hot tray of chicken on the stove and graze the side of your hand.

“Fuck,” You snap, pulling your hand close as everything settles, your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“Quite a welcome home,” Austin teases, sliding off his jean jacket, a soft black t-shirt underneath. He runs a hand through his hair as he puts down the smoke detector on the counter.

He reaches for your hand, gently turning it over in his grasp just to make sure the burn isn’t too bad but that’s not even the bulk of your concentration right now. You shake your head, staring at the blackened chicken with flares of annoyance and anger because…can’t one thing just go right today?

Your aunt really had to ruin two meals?

“Though this really pales in comparison to the time that you accidently set that oven mitt on fire, you remember that?”

And you realize that’s supposed to be a joke, you know you’re not the best set of hands in the kitchen, but you think the food you can make is at least decent. You’re a much better baker, ironically, just a tiny bit accident prone on today of all days. You turn a little and let out a sharp laugh because…the instance that Austin is mentioning was, in fact, a lot worse than this but…

With the combination of everything that’s added up throughout the day, the joke lands like a slap to the face. Your features scrunch up as your eyes sting with tears and you attempt to hide the reaction from Austin by lifting your hand up to run along the side of your face. But he knows you, can sense the emotion a mile away, your lower lip wobbling as you attempt to just leave the kitchen because…at this point it’s just embarrassing.

“Hey,” Austin gently clasps your elbow, tugging you closer, “Oh hey,” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your back, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he folds you into his chest. “M’sorry.”

You shake your head, tears fully flowing down your cheeks as you press your face into his shoulder. A jagged sob leaves your lips, arms slipping around his waist and squeezing like a lifeline,

“It’s n-not you,” You choke out, Austin shushing gently as he runs his fingers through your hair, “Just a bad day.”

You’re thankful that Austin doesn’t ask you to elaborate, just simply stands there in the kitchen and holds you, his hands working circles into your back and shoulders, occasionally slipping through your hair. You just let yourself cry, wind down, it helps—the feeling of his body against your own, firm and warm, the scent of his cologne and skin, the way he presses kisses into your hair until you’re visibly calmer.

Only then does he pull back, a soft smile on his face as he cups your cheek. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone, another kiss planted to your forehead. Sniffling, you wipe your hand along your other cheek before shaking your head,

“I’m sorry—can’t believe I just cried over the smoke alarm.”

Austin chuckles lightly, shrugging his one shoulder, “Least it wasn’t an oven mitt.”

You let out a wet laugh, though something completely more genuine, moving to press a kiss to his lips. He hums lightly, his arms once again winding around your waist, keeping you close. You pull back after a moment, resting your forehead along his nose and mouth, taking in a soft breath in which you’ve felt the calmest all day.

“Let me worry about dinner,” Austin offers, pulling back and motioning towards the living room. “Go curl up on the couch.”

You begin to shake your head, “No, you’ve been out working all day with your agent, all I did was a have a string of bad luck,” You smile a little, curling your hair around your ear, “Let me finish this.”

Austin shakes his head, pressing his hand along your lower back until you begin moving out of the kitchen. With a slightly dramatic eyeroll, but definitely touched at the sentiment, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. Posting yourself up in one of the corners, you wrap a blanket around yourself and watch as Austin saves dinner.

It really is hard to put into words how much in love with him you are.

Austin manages to salvage dinner and once that’s over with, you’re pretty sure you’ve changed from a solid into a liquid, practically melting into the corner of the couch. He puts a load of dishes into the dishwasher and comes into the living room with a cup of mint tea, passing the mug over to you. A soft hum leaves your lips, wrapping your hands around the heated ceramic. You take a soft breath in, Austin settling his arm along the back of the couch and your shoulders.

He presses a few circles into your shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss to the bridge of your nose. “You want to tell me about your bad day?”

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, moving slightly to steal another kiss. Your legs rest on his lap, his other hand slipping down to clasp your thigh, “What bad day?”

Austin smiles, licking his lips as he cups your cheek and kisses you again.

Bad days definitely have the capability of turning right around when you’re with him.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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sorryimanon · 4 years ago

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Pairings: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Tags: 18+, dirty talk, explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, penetration, bakugou being a switch, reader is a dom, lots of back and forth between characters, slow burn

A/N: this was supposed to be divided into two parts but surprise, surprise! i got lazy :) i had so much writing this. this might be my favorite fic ive written so far! this is a loooong one. enjoy!

P.S this is the unedited ver. I will posting the final on my AO3 account (sorryimanon)

Katsuki disliked her. No, he absolutely loathed her. Ever since she stepped foot into the classroom, it was destined for there to be a hostile barrier between the two of them. Granted, all she did was sweetly greet him like the rest of her fellow classmates, but Katsuki completely saw through her fading facade and ignored the kind gesture with a threatening showcase of his quirk.

"Being nice won't get you anywhere, baka," he snarled, glaring intensely at her all the while everyone watched the whole scene unfold.

He treated her like a foolish peasant after that initial encounter, disregarding her in any way shape or form as disgust shone through his eyes.

Y/N persevered the oncoming school years despite the blonde breathing down her neck consistently everyday. Katsuki's aggressive nature towards her subsided once graduation commenced, alluding to the blossoming maturity each student should have endured before branching off into hero work.

Not long after the celebratory succession, y/n bounced to several agencies that offered the same beneficial agreements for her. None caught her attention. Until one day she received a recommendation from Endeavor himself to work full time at his agency. Of course she accepted it and immediately wrote her sloppy signature down on the contract. Unbeknownst to her excitement, a separate copy of the contract was sent to another uprising hero around her age group.

So when she strutted in that morning of orientation, she never expected to see the very infamous Katsuki Bakugou slouched on one of the many chairs in the meeting room. Her throat tightened as she took a seat next to him, his height still freakishly tall even when they were just sitting. Staring straight forward to prevent from any means of eye contact with him, he lowered his head at her eye level and crooked a half smile.

"I'm gonna make you regret for even considering joining here, extra." A fleck of his spit hit the side of her face. Learning from her past encounters with Katsuki, y/n held her tongue in hopes for him to feel satisfied enough to leave her alone.

Thankfully their office hours were inconsistent to where they didn't intervene with each other, neither of them awkwardly meeting in the lobby or an elevator. However, sometimes y/n and Bakugou would desire the same craving for a caffeinated beverage and find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder by the coffee machine.

Bakugou likes his coffee black, she mentally jotted down as she intently watched his usual routine of preparing the beverage.

Like the asshole he is, Bakugou would purposely tip the mug and let a few trickles of the hot liquid burn her hand. He's done this every single time before he leaves y/n alone in the break room. Deep down, he relishes in the strained expression on her face when he inflicts the pain upon her. Thoughts danced across his head. Some involving him blasting y/n into the stratosphere to her kissing the tips of his boots for mercy. Either way, her being so submissive and, dare he say, a pussy to stand her ground sufficed him enough for the time being. But sometimes it pissed him off.

The constant harassment by the angry blonde went unnoticed by their other colleagues, including Endeavor, leaving y/n to prepare every morning to face the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou. His verbal abuse never wavered, occasionally whispering under his breath "weakling" or "stupid girl" whenever the pair were in the same room together. One time he sent her on a wild goose chase to find a missing case file that miraculously disappeared from her desk while she was copying something in the other room. Hours later, she soon discovers the said file tucked behind Katsuki's arm, snatching it from his grip and not once reprimanding him for wasting her time. Y/N eventually got used to it. Adapting to the annual insults of her work ethics and anything he could muster up from his sleeve. Both finally accepted their twisted dynamic, and became accustomed to the work lifestyle.

Months later, the dynamic soon changed when Endeavor announced an emergency meeting with everyone in the building. Apparently a new wave of villains have been reigning terror over the city, causing major damages and fatalities in a matter of weeks. Rumors started to circulate that the new generation of heroes don't have the capabilities to apprehend this group of evil doers. In the meeting, Endeavor made it clear for everyone to be partnered up before he dismisses them to patrol for the night, suggesting that pairing up with someone who is complimentary to your quirk is efficient for when dealing with these kinds of villains.

That's why y/n didn't voice her complaint when she inevitably got matched with Bakugou. His quirk alone was powerful already. With both of their quirks combined, there's no telling how the mission will go, but she surprisingly feels safe knowing he'll be sticking by her side throughout the rest of the night. It'll be a quick mission, then they'll return back to their previous mundane duties in the office. Back to Katsuki's mental and verbal torment.

"Could you move any slower?" Katsuki barked as both he and y/n were taking a quick stroll through the public park, scoping out for any signs of danger.

She was a step behind him, careful not to bump his shoulder or invade his space. She mumbled out a quick apology and fastened her pace, catching up to the man in gear. Tonight he wore his alternative hero costume, the design made specifically for when the temperature reaches an undesirable degree. The collar touched below the tip of his chin, his chiseled chest covered with the thick black material, and his arms protected from the cold with the addition of sleeves.

"Fucking weakling..." she heard him mumble once they circled the perimeter again.

Bakugou insisted for them to scout out as many places as possible in hopes for an encounter. He desperately needs any excuse for some action, to use his quirk out of anger. Previously, they patrolled the empty plaza of Tatoone shopping center. Other heroes were there as well, but still no signs of any villains lurking in the dark. For the third time, they met up at the center of the park after making another round, both already tired of the tedious task.

"Just our fucking luck. Still no signs of those stupid villains. I guess we should patrol the outskirts of-."

A bright luminescent beam struck the middle of Bakugou's chest cavity, ricocheting him backwards to slam against the trunk of a large tree, knocking him unconscious instantly. Startled, y/n's eyes frantically searched for the perpetrator, only to meet a pair of glowing green orbs staring right back. She shifted her stance in preparation for their next attack, blocking Bakugou's lifeless body from the villains view. Another beam shot from the darkness, only this time y/n counter balanced the blow by rolling to side, the blast missing her by a couple of feet. Y/N quickly raised to her feet and ran head first towards the dark figure. Without preamble, the figure shot multiple beams at the hero, each one emitting from the void of their chest.

Y/N dodged the bright suffocating strips of light, her feet shuffling and heart racing due to the adrenaline rush. However, she miscalculated her next move which allowed the figure to strike her left shoulder when she was distracted for a split second. Pain shot throughout her shoulder blade. Eyes drawn to a close, her hand shot up to cradle the injury. The intense sensation started to spread from the upper half of her body to below. Everything suddenly became numb, including her sensors. She couldn't feel the tips of her digits nor move any part of her face. The muscles in her legs soon stopped contracting, resulting in her knees giving out. She felt the hard, coarse ground beneath her as the darkness began to swallow up her line of vision. The last thing she saw was a scuffed up Bakugou laying face flat on the drenched grass.

- Y/N stirred awake, lifting one of her half lidded eyes expecting to see the villain looming over her tired body. But all she saw was the popcorn ceiling sheltering her, an overhead fan turned on and the curtains tightly shut. She slowly inclined her body upright and peeled the covers from her clammy figure. Still in the process of waking up, she made her way to the attached bathroom by the bed and located the sink. She splashed the cold water on her face, letting the droplets drench the clothes she was currently wearing. Turning off the facet, she craned her head to view the damage on her shoulder in the mirror. But how come she couldn't recognize herself?

Tuffs of blonde spiked out from her head. Her eyes weren't the same color either. Red crimson irises replaced the ones she had before. The injury from last night on her shoulder wasn't there no more, but she took sight at how broad they became. And she wasn't wearing her typical pajama top and bottoms. This morning she was clad in a black tank top and a pair of soft sweat pants.

No, this can't be true. This has to be some sick nightmare. Jolting backwards on her heel, she let out a terrible shriek. After screaming for a good minute, she calmed down and rested her hands on the bathroom counter, transfixed on the reflection in front of her.

"I-I somehow transformed into Bakugou!" The deep timbre voice of bakugou replaced her own. She tugged on the unkept hair and knitted her eyes shut. "This is only a dream. I'm dreaming right? I can't possibly be in Bakugou's body."

A loud ringing noise alerted y/n to open her eyes again. It was coming from her bedroom. Correction, his bedroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time before retrieving the phone that was stuffed in a green duffel bag. Her eyes widened. She recognized her phone number on the screen. Knowing the circumstances, she pressed answered and awaited for the receiver on the other end to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

"So, we somehow switched bodies because of being struck by that villains quirk the other night. How long did they say this will last then?" Y/N questioned Bakugou the following morning once they agreed to meet up somewhere in private. Right now they were sitting across from each other on a stone bench by the lake, the morning sun peaking through the tall skyscrapers behind them.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, technically hers, and said, "Endeavor informed me it'll probably linger for a good week. He also wanted us to not be on duty till we recuperate from this, saying that the side effects will drain our bodies." He couldn't muster up the courage to stare at her, because all he would see is the reflection of himself. "Unfortunately the villain fled the scene before the others arrived to retrieve us. They're still out there causing havoc."

"This is freaking weird."

"Fucking."

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. Across from her, Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration.

"If you're gonna be me for a whole week then you might as well not sugar coat my vocabulary-dumbass."

Right, she now has to devote her time and effort into mirroring Bakugou's explosive personality. But that also means he too has to put on a show in order to persuade everyone he was her.

"Oh, okay..." she started but tensed up when realizing Bakugou was gazing expectantly at her. "D-Dumbass?"

Katsuki groaned as he rolled his eyes at her failed attempt of portraying him.

"This is going to be a long ass week."

- Bakugou grunted in disgust as he scavenged through y/n's closet for something to wear. Every piece of clothing so far hasn't met his criteria of approval to put on his body. There was an unnecessary amount of yoga pants and the most ugliest oversized graphic tees he's ever laid his eyes upon stored in her drawer. Growing up in a household of highly praised designers, the influence shifted his taste in fashion over the years. So, he made the rational decision to make a quick trip to the mall and purchase a few outfits for himself. Considering he's going to be in this body for a whole week, maybe even more, he might as well present himself looking ten times better than she ever has.

He tittered around the mall window shopping, entering store after store leaving with a handful of clothes in plastic and paper bags. So far he bought some outfits that edged a little on the fancy side, but paid no mind to his bank account. Bakugou guesstimated y/n's size during the venture, not wanting to pry or see what's underneath these restricting fabrics. He was about to leave when a frilly-pink themed store caught his attention.

It's a lingerie store, Bakugou thought as he neared closer to the entrance.

Posters inside the displays showcased attractive half naked women clad in nothing but the delicate material. Not to mention they were all posing seductively. An involuntary image of y/n flashed across his eyes, her imitating the same lustrous pose as well as wearing the sheer lingerie like the women behind the glass. Steams of heat practically blowed out from his ears, along with the embarrassing shade of pink panting his cheeks. He clamped a hand on his mouth, eyes widen in disbelief.

The fuck did I just imagine? There's no way in hell that just happened!

He must've been loitering there for awhile because a young girl, possibly his age, was standing in the threshold of the store wearing a pastel pink apron, giving him a welcoming smile.

She spoke, "Looking to shop for something, ma'am?"

Remembering back to y/n's distasteful clothing, he noted that she also lacked having any 'pretty' undergarments. It wasn't that he intentionally raided through her underwear, he just so happen to have stumbled upon the almost empty drawer by accident. In retrospect, he's doing her a favor. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes actually. Can you show me your most expensive set?" - "To your left! That dudes been camping by that spot since the match. He'll snipe you in the open!" Kirishima informed y/n as they both sat criss cross on the cushioned couch.

They've been playing the same game for hours. Y/N prayed for at least one water break or grab something quick to eat since they haven't moved an inch from their spots. Kirishima promised after this match he'll order some takeout for the both of them, but he said the same thing 8 matches ago. All she could do for now was pretend to be immersed in the game, getting a couple of impressive kills here and there, subsequently ranking her to a bronze level. Her digits were beginning to cramp up due to the repetitive moments of smashing down on the labeled buttons on the wireless controller. The screen across from them suddenly went dark and flashed the scoreboard from the recent match. Another successful victory.

"BOOYAAA!!!!" Kirishima clapped his hands and did a celebratory dance. "Ah, good game Bakugou."

Y/N flinched from hearing the blondes name.

"Kirishima, it's Y/N," she reluctantly reminded him.

Kirishima's whole demeanor went south. He chucked out a dry laugh and nervously started rubbing the back of his neck.

"R-Right sorry. Couldn't help myself. I mean, I am looking at Bakugou. Same face, voice, hair, and scary eyes."

After being battered by the villains quirk, Kirishima and Sun Eater were the ones to retrieve them before law enforcement shortly arrived once the perpetrator fled the scene. They were all under one strict oath to not mention this to the public, or else everyone’s image will tarnished and skew the potential of our future rankings.

"I know. I'm still trying to process this whole thing. I've been avoiding all the mirrors in the apartment since I came back." Y/N stood up from the couch and sauntered over to her designated bedroom for the week. She reached for the door handle but stiffened when a pair of hardened hands rested on her broad shoulders.

"Aye, don't worry so much. I bet you Bakugou is thinking the same thing. This week will be over before you know it," he absentmindedly began massaging the area between your shoulder blades and neck.

Does he always treat Bakugou like this despite that nasty little Pomeranian being a complete asshole to everyone?

"Kirishima?"

"Yeah?"

"What is Bakugou like around you?"

The red head hummed to himself at the random question, thinking of a perfect answer to her curiosity.

"The same how he was in high school except more tamer I guess. But I enjoy his presence none the less."

Then why does he seem to unleash his untamed feelings towards me specifically?

Y/N sighed, obviously not satisfied with that answer.

"Out of everybody, he seems to despise me more and more like it's a game," she said without realizing.

"You know how he is Y/N. He's very abrasive and blunt when it comes to other people's emotions, but deep down I know he only acts like that because he wants to present a strong image in front of everyone," he started. "He's scared of others looking down on him, I know that for sure. But I always looked up to Bakugou from the day I personally got to know him. So, I guess he just stayed by my side because of my admiration for him."

Bakugou is always putting up a front then.

"Interesting...well I'm gonna go to bed now. Thanks for keeping me company," y/n said once again reaching for the knob and opening the door, ignoring the red heads pleas for her not go to sleep on an empty stomach. -

The next day Bakugou found himself inside y/n's bathroom, feet firmly planted on the tiled floor not daring to move an inch. Even though he wasn't in his own body that didn't stop him from paying a visit to the gym this morning. He went extra hard on every machine, not caring about the wandering eyes men gave him while he dead lifted weights. Drenched in nothing but his own glistening sweat, Bakugou entered y/n's small apartment as he dragged his tired feet to the bedroom he was now familiarized with.

Something foul wafted into his nostrils, almost making him teary eyed to the stench. He tried to recall the last time he took a shower. Vaguely he remembers washing his body the morning before he got attack by the powerful quirk. It's been several days since then. This was one thing he didn't want to endure during his experience of switching bodies. He's been neglecting his own hygiene to avoid seeing y/n's exposed body parts. Changing out from her clothes with closed eyes was difficult enough, but taking a fucking shower?! Such a shitty predicament. But he can't smell like this for the remainder of being stuck in this body. He'll die of suffocation.

Ah fuck, that must mean she has to take a shower as well. Or worse, she already has and saw everything.

His eye twitched, lips trembling in fear at what he's about to witness.

Fuck it, I can't go out smelling like shit!

With shaky fingers he began stripping, eyes trained on anything but y/n's figure, the faint sound of the water streaming white noise to him. Her gym clothes piled on the floor, Katsuki slipped into the shower, head titled slightly to view only the shower head. He messed around with the chrome handle, indecisive on what temperature he wanted. Settled onto cold to awaken his sluggish state, he positioned himself under the shower head, goosebumps prickling his skin due to the sudden drop of temperature. Water droplets streamed down and canaled to his lower regions, the sensation relaxing his anxiousness just a smidge. He surveyed the options y/n had laid out for hair care products and grabbed the nearest one. Rubbing the body wash into the palms of his hands, he caught himself, arm mid raised getting ready to wash each crevice of his body.

Shit shit shit shit

The hand in front of him began shaking.

She won't know. It's not like I'm touching her sexually, I'm just keeping her clean for fucks sake!

As gentle as he could, Bakugou washed away the soapy residue, fingers cautiously ghosting over anything perking out. A moment too soon, he accidentally skimmed over her chest a little too fast, the tips of his fingers touching something that was hard and protruding. His breathing hitched.

I just felt her fucking nipple!

But fuck, it strangely felt quite pleasant. Pleasurable even if he had to admit.

He continued on with his previous ministrations, cupping her boobs like a madman and swiping one thumb over the taunt surface to test the waters. A fierce, tingling sensation surged shivers down his spine. An unsolicited low moan spurred out from the blonde.

"Hah!"

What the hell?! Why am I still touching her tits? And why am I enjoying it?

Finishing up his routine quickly, Bakugou snatched a towel from the cabinet and rubbed away all the sinful thoughts desperately from his head, a constant fight between his morals and neediness. Nobody will never know what he committed in the confines of her own apartment. And it'll fucking stay like that till on his death bed.

I practically assaulted her. I'm so fucking disgusting

For the rest of the remaining day, Bakugou planned on meeting up with Kirishima to hangout. He wanted to coerce the red head into talking about anything other than y/n. His mind needs the relief. He needs this spell to be over with.

He can't stand trying to fit into women's jeans any longer - Kirishima woke up that morning to a chorus of shrieks. Girlish shrieks, might he add. He thought maybe the neighbors were selfishly doing not-so-holy-things at the peak of dawn. But him and Katsuki were resided on the highest level of the penthouse, them being the only residents on the empty floor. It clicked once he heard his name through the thin walls.

"Ah! Y/N I'm coming!" He leaped from his bed and reached y/n's, technically Bakugou's, room in a matter of seconds.

Y/N's body twitched to the sound of the door being slammed open, the impact rattling the very few wall decorations in the blondes space. Standing in the threshold was the friendly red head, huffing and puffing air out of his chest like he just got done running a marathon.

"K-Kiri! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up!" Her words afterwards became a jumbled mess, realizing the predicament she pushed herself into.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Tell me what's wrong. It sounded like you were in pain. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The red had to remind himself this was indeed another person inside Bakugou's body, because Bakugou would never apologize repeatedly for the sake of apologizing in his entire life.

Y/N was looking quite pallid now, sheepishly tugging on the black covers of the bed, trying to find the easiest way on how to lay this out to her new roommate.

"Well...I just...I woke up to - ah crap."

Instead of explaining her situation, she pulled back the blanket to show kiri the thing protruding between her uncommonly, muscular legs. Kirishima's eyes widen instantaneously, eating up the pitched tent inside her basketball shorts. Oddly enough, this wasn't his first rodeo upon seeing the blonde with a boner. They were dudes. And dudes living together were bound to witness each other's 'flesh swords', he'd like to put it.

"Oh, morning wood? That's pretty normal. Nothing to fret y/n!" He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Bakugou gets them all the time! In fact, I remember he'd get them after sparring sessions back in our U.A days-."

"Okayyyyy, Never mind that! I know I have a boner. Just exactly how do I get rid of it?!"

"You mean, you don't know? Haven't you been taught this in Sex Ed class?" Kiri was actually curious as to why she doesn't know nor remember. He surly does. Learning about the human body by the infamous sultry teacher, Midnight, engraved so much information into his tiny-teenage brain.

"That was considered an extra curricular class. I took a CPR class instead."

"Right well, from what she taught us and from my own personal experience, you gotta rub one out."

Y/N's whole face contorted into a confused mess of disgust.

"Rub a what now?" She asked, although she had a feeling what the euphemism meant.

Kiri's face blotched red, the tint flushing to his chest as well. The man was evidently embarrassed about having this conversation with someone who wasn't Bakugou.

"I essentially mean you gotta masturbate. Ya know, in order to calm down your boner," he paused seeing how distraught y/n became. "It won't hurt I promise you! Don't worry, it feels really good! Like, eating ice cream good! Ah no that's not a good analogy!"

"This is so fucking horrifying..." Y/N poked at the thing, rightfully known as his dick, and kept starring as if it might miraculously subside to its original size.

Kiri coughed, grabbing her attention away from Bakugou's dick.

"He has lotion stashed in his drawer," he started, but malfunctioned seconds later. He revealed something private to someone that bakugou condemned as a 'weakling'. "That is if you need it for lubricant. It's kind of tough to jerk off dry..." his sentence fell off midway.

Y/N mumbled out an "Ok", and retrieved said lotion from the lower bunk of his drawers. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Kiri was still standing awkwardly by the doorway, unsure wether or not if that's his cue to leave.

"Um, thanks Kiri. You can leave now," she plopped back onto Bakugou's king sized bed.

This man sleeps alone. He doesn't need a ginormous bed all to himself.

"R-Right! Well, enjoy jerking off- ah no I meant - I didn't word that correctly! Ah geez, see ya later!" He sprinted out the door like his life depended on it.

Locking the door behind her, y/n forced herself into the attached bathroom, the lotion burning the palms of her hand each second. Once she settled down on the lid of the toilet, she shimmied out from his loose basketball shorts, letting them pool at her ankles.

If there's one thing she learned that morning, it was that being a man had its weird benefits. - "Slow down Bakugou! Let me at least catch up before you black out!" Kirishima was on his third shot while Bakugou just downed his sixth one for the night.

The blonde growled under his breath and tugged the red head by his collar to his mouth.

"Fucking idiot, don't call me that. It's y/n when we're out in public," he loosens his grip and snatches kiri's shot and tips his head back to drain it all down his throat, the burning sensation long gone.

"Ugh, my brain can't keep up with this whole switching body shit. It's been so hard back at the apartment." He internally cringes from the recollection of y/n popping her first boner this morning.

"What do you mean? Has that dumbass been giving you a hard time? If she has, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

"Not at all! She's been a saint while living with me. Which by the way, how come you can't just live at the penthouse while y/n stays at her place?

While Kirishima was talking, Bakugou ordered another round of shots. The bartender shoved a whole bottle of Fireball towards the man, saving him in the future to not ask anymore. The young server gave Bakugou a sly wink and returned back to serving other customers down the line. Cheeks flushed red, Bakugou thinks the man behind the bar was being too nice for his liking. He poured two more shots while keeping an eye on the average looking employee. If kirishima kept babbling, he might as well funnel the entire bottle in one sitting.

"I'm just following endeavors orders. We're not supposed to gain attention from those stupid reporters that camp outside our penthouse," he takes another swing of the warm liquid. "I'd rather fucking be quirkless than mistaken for having any rumored relations with her."

"Can I ask a genuine question? How come you hate y/n so much?"

"I don't hate her, I dislike her. There's a difference."

"I don't know man. Sometimes I mistaken your dislike with love."

"EXCUSE ME? IM NOT IN LOVE OF THAT BITCH?!"

"C'mon dude, I'm sensing a lot of denial from you. Also, shouldn't you be acting like her right now? She's very soft spoken if I'm not mistaken,"

"I'm not in denial idiot. I hate how soft she speaks. I hate how sickeningly kind she is even though nobody deserves it. I hate how she wastes her talented quirk and doesn't see the potential. She's a lost cause Kiri. She won't last for much longer in this field if she keeps this up."

"Wow, for someone who dislikes her as such, you surly sound like you care about heeeerrrrrr," kirshima drawled out in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and finish your shot, shitty hair."

When the blonde was driving back to her apartment later that night, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel when an afterthought came to him.

His whole reasoning as to why he went out in the first place, and he can't seem to restrict himself from talking about the girl he's trapped in.

Even in this goddamn body I can't seem to steer clear from y/n talk! - Izuku had to do a double take when he entered the small coffee shop. Something about seeing the pensive blonde sitting patiently in a booth by the corner really made him feel like he was sucked into another dimension. Today y/n was wearing a white v-neck with a wool green cardigan and tight black jeans.

Kacchan owns cardigans? He thought, clearly amused.

Upon hearing the ding coming from the door, Y/N raised her head from her phone and waved Izuku over to her table. The poor man seemed like he was going combust right there. It's been awhile since he's spoken to his old classmate.

The green haired hero slid into the booth across from her and immediately started speaking Deku language.

"H-Hey Kacchan! Boy it's been awhile hasn't it? I was a little stunned seeing your message this morning asking to hangout. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet up sooner. I had an early patrol shift from 9 to 5. You might know how that feels, right?! Oh gosh I'm sounding like an adult. Can you believe we're adults-."

"Midor- I mean Deku, I called you up to ask about if you have any leads on the villain with the body switching quirk?" She cut him off.

"Oh yeah, that villain has been spotted a few times since the last attack. Of course most of my team hasn't been able to reprimand them. A few close calls though. But I heard two people from your sector got hit by the quirk! Are they doing okay?"

I hate lying to those big freaking green eyes.

"That's not true. They got hurt, but no one was attacked by their quirk. I just need to know if you have any information on the quirk in particular and what to do in order to reverse it."

Underneath the table, Izuku fumbled inside his pockets in search for his mini notebook. He still obtained the habit of jotting down everything, literally everything, in hopes the information will provide any source of aide. Izuku became all jittery and excited at the thought of sharing anything with Kacchan!

The small, crinkled notebook was slid across the table, hitting the tips of y/n's knuckles.

"Page 124, the first indent I wrote. It's mainly about my own conspiracy on what the villains quirk is. That was before their first debut of course. But now since we know it's a type of body switching quirk, I tried to pin point on what exactly lifts the quirks effect on the victim," Izuku explained casually while y/n skimmed through the notes and passages. "I did a little detective work on my own and contacted the people who were attacked by the villain. From what I gathered, let's just say- it's a bit taboo ."

This piqued her interest.

"What do you mean by, taboo?"

The man began to wave his hands around fervently in attempt to steer the blonde away from prying more. But y/n swatted Izuku's hand and continued reading the sloppy inscriptions.

Her eyes popped out from her sockets.

"I have to what?!" A few civilians stared in their direction, obviously gravitated to the familiar gruff voice.

"Calm down Kacchan! Why are you so angry for?"

Y/N rubbed her temple all the while wanting to slowly die than endure anymore of this.

"Nothing. Just- Ugh...Is it alright if I borrow this?"

"Y-Yeah! Kacchan can borrow anything from me as long as he returns it!" There was that gleam again in his eyes.

"Thanks Izuku, I owe you one!" She squeezed the greenettes freckled hand before leaving the booth and the shop all together.

Still in the cafe, Izuku sat frozen as if someone walked in with gun. Internally though, he was screaming. -

Y/N: Please call me. It's urgent

It was a Friday night when Bakugou received the cryptic message from her. He was in the middle of watching his true crime show when the annoying ding from his phone went off. For once, he just wanted to relax his mind and go on auto pilot without stressing his already strained body. It's the whole principle of Friday's. To fuck off and ignore everyone. What's so fucking important for her to text him out of the blue then?

Another acute ding.

Bakugou peeked over his shoulder to see who disrupted him this time.

Y/N: Bakugou, we need to talk. This isn't something to ignore.

He rolled his eyes and retrained his focus on the tv screen.

Ding Ding Ding

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" He released an animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, scratching his voice box even more. His fingers typed away aggressively, not bothering to read her previous messages.

BK: Leave me the fuck alone. You're to only text me if it involves with the reverse of this stupid quirk 🖕🏼

Three dots appeared immediately after he sent that. Bakugou started losing his patience while waiting for her response. He hated wasting precious time, especially if there was a second party involved. Her message finally delivered. Bakugou's eyes grew larger in size as he read the text.

Y/N: that's why I'm texting you idiot 🙄 I met up with Midoriya today and he may have given me the solution to our problem.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he typed out his last text message to her.

BK: fine. come over then. we can talk about it when you get here.

This time he didn't wait for her to respond back and began cleaning her apartment. - Feeling nervous was an understatement. Y/N felt like she was driving herself to her own execution. Bakugou being the one to carry out the death sentence. She didn't doubt the blonde would be elated at the idea of her being put under a torture device.

Okay, maybe he wasn't too malice to actually do it, but he probably entertained the thought.

Thankfully Bakugou's penthouse wasn't far from her own apartment, saving her much needed gas in case he goes ballistic on her.

The door flew open when she arrived shortly after one knock, revealing a very sluggish looking Y/N shooting daggers at her. Well, at least her body wasn't dressed in bruises or burn marks. That's a win. Bakugou paired herself with a cute crop top and silky pajama shorts. He's got taste she'll give him that.

Her apartment remained exactly the same as she left it when they both were ordered to switch residency's. Only a few traces of Bakugou were found. Mainly in the kitchen, where all his fancy cooking equipment and utensils were laid out. Unlike him, she ate out almost every night due to the red head being incompetent in the kitchen. He almost burnt down the complex last night. He relied upon his friend to do most of the cooking in their household.

The blonde briskly brushed passed her to sit on the couch, slinging his feet on the coffee table to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable, she noted.

"Well, spill it. What did the damn nerd tell you that could help us with this shit?" He inquired without preamble.

Like a hero, she was here on a mission. A mission that needs to be completed as soon as possible, even if the mission itself was ludicrous. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the mini book, and flipped soundlessly to the page Izuku marked for her.

"On here it says that the quirk can last up to a week, maybe even more, depending on the victim(s). The effected will experience dry eyes, nausea, insomnia, painful migraines, and uncontrollable shaking due to being inside another persons body. They must let the quirk take its course then," she read out loud, ignoring Bakugou's groans of annoyance. "But, for rare cases, there have been reports of one's libido being greatly impacted. The victim will be in constant, insurmountable pain unless they relief themselves, then the two bodies will return back to normal."

To her surprise, Bakugou didn't show an ounce of indignation after hearing this piece of information. He seemed almost indifferent.

And there's no denying the truth. Both of their hormones have been off the rails. Ever since the incident in the shower, Bakugou has caught himself numerous times touching Y/N's boobs. Coping a sly feel as he cooked, cleaned, and even while he scrolled through his social media. Sometimes her ass as well to see if it felt good in his hands. Y/N was no saint either. Sporting boners every hour for no particular reason. All the blood rushing to her lower region became unbearable when she didn't take care of it. Kirishima kept reassuring her that it's natural for a man to get them a lot. But how much was too much?

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffs. "That's it? I just gotta jack off and then we're free from this curse?"

This is the part she dreaded the most. An uncomfortable heat flash roused up her face, a deep shade of red inching across her cheeks and nose.

"No. That's not what it means. We basically have to...ya know...," she paused mid sentence, too bashful to finish, desperately wanting Bakugou to put two and two together.

She shrunk in her position as the blonde narrowed his eyes at her.

"We have to fuck each other?" He profoundly acclaimed.

"Don't put it like that! But yeah, technically, we have to...help relief each other in order to switch back."

"If you wanted to jump my bones so bad you could've just asked." He leans back against the couch, arm draped lazily over the shoulder of the furniture, along with a playful smirk tugging up on the corners of his mouth. Y/N's blood ran cold when she felt the tiniest twitch down below. Her borrowed reproductive organ is betraying her!

"Do you want to be in constant pain till this all wears off? Or do you want to get this over with and never talk to each other again?" Y/N shuffled more towards the abrasive man, a strong tidal wave of anger rising within her.

"It won't matter because you always wound up in my presence anyway. Like a fucking pest that won't leave me alone." Without realizing it, Bakugou got up from his spot on the couch and marched over to Y/N, who at the moment looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

Another thing he hated about switching bodies was the fact that everyone towered over him, despite him being on his tippy toes. The woman in front of him acclimated his height, giving her the upperhand if they were to battle it out right now. If anything he could kick her shins at best.

"Whatever...I'm leaving," was all she said before storming off to the front door, grabbing her things along with her as she grew farther from him.

Katsuki's legs were moving on their own. His hand reached out and grabbed Y/N's forearm, halting her movements altogether. She's clearly enraged, thrashing her body back and forth to loosen his grip on her. He eventually grew tired of her stubborness and secured his grip on both of her arms, trapping her between the door and his body, producing a loud 'thump!'. Although he was in her body, he still carried his strength. In a matter of seconds, both Y/N and Bakugou were chest to chest now, their centers tapping aganist each other. She averted her gaze to the floor, as if their shoes were more interesting than this whole shitshow of a dilema. Bakugou squeezed her shoudlers, a little too much for her liking, to gain her attention again.

"I didn't say no, did I?" he asked hotly, his warm breath hitting her collarbones. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her breathing to hitch. Bakugou noticed her sudden stiffness and began rubbing gentle circles into the tender flesh of her skin. "Hoho, someone's excited aren't they?"

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows and backed up further into the wooden door. But her question was soon to be answered as she followed Bakugou's hungry gaze to the prominent bludge taunting from her pants. Betrayed once again by her unstable horniness!

"Guess I'm not the only one," she accuses once spotting the definite wet stain around Bakugou's crotch. He smirked at that.

"Take care of it then," his voice oozed of seduction and want, rewarding him another twitch in your tight pants. The libido was taking full effect now, any animosity they had before was thrown out the window. Past arguments also long forgotten. Their main priority at the moment was to experience the sweet relief of coming undone.

Y/N darted her hand down to the spot Bakugou needed attention from, and cupped his crotch with her abnormally large hand. Bakugou lets out a shaky exhale as her fingers danced around the sensitive area. One of her fingers moved instinctively, feeling how drenched he was in his panties, and rubbed the underside to get a better feel of the sex.

"You're so wet Bakugou," Y/N mused softly. She leaned forward, searching into Bakugou's eyes for any signs of him wanting this to end. But the pool of his irises were blown out, no tint of your original color in them anymore. "Do you want more?"

He nodded quickly, his hair bobbing up and down. Y/N chuckled and removed her hand from its previous position to the hem of Bakugou's shorts, teasingly toying the waistband. She slipped smoothly into his shorts, tickling him in the process, and toyed with the corners of his panties before moving them aside so she could have access to the thing she's been craving to touch. Wetness lathered up her fingers with just one swipe, causing Bakugou to purse his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"Is Bakugou embarrassed? Are you mad that I have the upper hand now? After all those years of verbally tormenting me, you can't handle my simple touch?" She whispered dangerously close into his ear. During this, she couldn't tell if he was pissed or turned on. Maybe a mixture of both, but she took pride in his strained expression.

"W-Watch your goddamn mouth. Or do I need to shut you up myself, eh?" By shutting her up, he meant mirroring her exact ministrations. The petite hand of Bakugou's latched onto the zipper of her jeans, and impressively dragged it down in one swipe without getting anything caught. He reached into the tight restraints of her boxer briefs and pulled out the hardened dick. He clicked his tongue. "Not to sound like a narcissist, but you gotta admit, my dick looks pretty."

"Just shut up and jerk me off you asshole. I'm starting to see stars," She wasn't lying to speed up the process. Her body felt like it was on fire, including her dick. If Bakugou keeps stalling for the sake of punishing her, then he's going to be seeing white for days on end.

Bakugou tentatively began pumping her, his grip not too tight nor loose on the flesh. Y/N sighed in relief as he swiped his thumb over the slit, covering his fingers in her precum. Seeing that he's giving into her needs, she returned the favor by inserting her index finger inside, not allowing him to adjust once she massaged the velvety walls.

Bakugou arched into Y/N's body, panting harshly against her chest. "H-Hah fuck, slow down. Shit!"

"Take it like a champ, Mr.Dynamight."

"F-Fuck you."

Oh no. Probably shouldn't have patronized him, because Bakugou sped up his languid motions to pure vigorous jerking of the hand. A wave of pleasure shot up through her body, jolting backwards due to the intense sensation. Of course he's a pro at this. What isn't he good at?

Bakugou rested his head onto the crevice of your shoulder since he could only reach so far, and ghosted his lips on the skin, carefully restricting himself to not engage in kissing the area. While doing so, he cupped the underside of your balls, rolling them around in his small hands. They looked so big when being manhandled in her grasp. Y/N stifled her moans as he kept messing with them, all the while stroking her simultaneously. She felt him smile. The cheeky fucker! Two could play it at this game.

Y/N used one of her thumbs that weren't preoccupied inside Bakugou to massage the only place she knew that could make him cum in seconds. Two fingers inside, one thumb attentively on the clitorous. It was enough to make Bakugou bite down on her shoulder, trying to prevent any moans from escaping his mouth.

"Moan for me Bakugou. I know you want to," she tried to persuade him with more strokes to the clit, occasionally pinching it with her unoccupied fingers. She can feel he was close. So was she. But she needed to coerce him into helping her to finish too. They need to be a team. "Say something Bakugou. Don't you want to cum? If you don't speak your mind I'm going to stop." She couldn't believe the words that were spewing from her mouth. Y/N has never dirty talked before. Nor has she gotten this far with anyone without freezing up. Definitely the libido effect.

Bakugou detached his teeth from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. Pleading.

"Go faster. Please." The want and neediness in his voice said it all.

He indeed felt vulnerable and exposed right then and there when confessing his desire, but he couldn't care less. Her fingers inside him were heavenly. A mantra of ,"yesyesyesyesyesyes", left his throat as her ministrations didn't falter.

"Fuck! Keep going. Just like that- shit - just like that... yesssss." His moans were beautiful. Not because they sounded like hers, but the way how he vocalizes his pleasure made sense in the world. Every whimper or moan puts her closer to the edge.

"Are you- are you about to?" He asked quietly, as though he was afraid you might stop at any rate.

"Yes! So close, just keep stroking," it was difficult to form sentences after that, the build up tension in your stomach tightening like a ticking time bomb, making your pleads indecipherable.

But Bakugou didn't want to hear that. He wanted to her to say those three words of encouragement.

Make. Me. Cum

And then, as if his thoughts were broadcasted live, she snaked her hands into the locks of his hair and pulled him close to where the tips of their noses touched briskly.

In a small voice she whimpers out, "Make me cum, Katsuki."

Listening to her instructions, his grip tightened around the base of her shaft and began teasing the slit, never once averting his glare from her own. Y/N's legs turned into jello. It became harder and harder to stand any longer. She needed to release. She quickened her pace and brutally scissored his pussy, the erotic sounds of their wetness reverberating in the tiny apartment.

"Cum then baby. Cum for me only."

Baby

Next thing she knew a strip of white shot out from below, dirtying the hands of Bakugou's. Her body began to spasm. Katsuki didn't loosen his grip, the stimulation becoming unbearable at this point.

The coil within him loosened, the evidence of his climax coating her fingers, allowing his orgasum to reach its full potential.

The pair blacked out for a split second, but recuperated once the light hit their corneas again.

"Shit." "Fuck." "..." "..."

Silence. Then the realization hit.

"I'm staring at you and not me! It worked! Hallelujah!" Y/N exclaimed, feeling herself to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

"Gross. You got cum all over my expensive shirt," he said, wiping away the white substance with his sleeve.

Both of them went into the kitchen to clean the after math. Bakugou would grunt occasionally in disgust, sponging away the grime. Y/N throughly washed her hands and towel dried them, thoughts stiffly empty and vexed. She broke the awkward tension.

"Well, I guess we should call Endeavor and inform him that we switched back."

He hummed in agreement.

"And we should probably exchange our things tomorrow or tonight, but preferably soon since we're going to be on duty again."

Another grunt.

"Don't worry about me mentioning this to anyone. We can just keep whatever happened minutes ago between us-

Bakugou cut her off entirely by smashing his lips against hers. Shell shocked by his action, Y/N kept her eyes wide open whilst Bakugou's were knitted shut. She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him away harshly, putting their distance at arms reach.

"Bakugou, what the hell? All of sudden you want to kiss me?" Y/N's face fell, contorting into a mixture of sadness and confusion. "You only kiss people you like. Not hate."

Bakugou moved towards Y/N slowly, a hint of a smile forming as he neared closer.

"And that's exactly why I did it, idiot," he proclaimed confidently, cupping the side of her face. The touch was so tender and gentle she forgot that it was Bakugou at first.

"You're toying with me, aren't you? The libido is probably still lingering. If you really liked me, then tell me the exact moment you did."

Without hesitation he said, "The first day of school. When you walked in."

Y/N slapped the hand from her face, her skin flushing red by his blunt confession.

"Stop lying. You were mean to me the first day of school. And every day after that. I don't think calling people a "weakling" or "stupid" constitutes as liking someone."

All he did was chuckle and continued scooting closer, eventually towering above her. She squirmed underneath him. She secretly missed having his height.

"You're absolutely stupid if you think I really meant any of that crap. I may have gone overboard on the whole berating thing, but that was just my way of pushing my feelings away, in hopes you'd improve better and not take shit from people like me."

"Ya know, it's kind of hard to detect that when you were practically spitting on my face."

He leaned down and pecked a chaste kiss on the crown of her forehead.

"You can call me all the names you want later. Kick my ass if ya want, but for now let me make it up to you," he whispers before planting his mouth to hers again, only this time she didn't protest.

Heat swirled within her as she watched Katsuki's eyes flutter close, enriched in the moment to open them, and gripped the base of her neck to apply more pressure into the kiss. The man guided her as he moved his plushed lips ontop of hers, consuming the pretty noises she made. And my, were they absoultey rich coming from her.

I want to hear more, the selfish thought banged repeatedly inside his lust filled mind.

Y/N nervosuly closed her eyes shut when Katsuki's wet tongue prodded the entrance of her tight, lipped mouth. Letting him take full control, Katsuki managed to enter the strong muscle into her wet mouth and explored the canvernous place with such eagerness, such tenacity. Like he's been dying to do this for as long as his skillful mind can remember. Y/N found herself moaning as Katsuki grabbed her waist and forcefully collieded their bodies together, her soft breasts pressed up against his hard chest. Her perky tits put him in a trance, remincseing back to the day when first touched them, the guiltiness eating him up from the inside-out. Katsuki slithered one of his hands to the taunt boob and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Y/N to squeak out in embarrasement. They still feel fucking amazing in his hands.

"You're so fucking cute," he drew back from her, already out of breath. Everything was hitting him like a tsunami. He can finally admit to himself that he's been wanting this since they became co-workers. Hell, since the fucking beginning. Younger Katsuki would deem him as a horny loser who lost at his own game, but he wasn't a damn kid anymore.

"K-Katsuki...bedroom?" her hands found their way back into his crisp locks, futher egging him to comply. The small action made him moan.

"Fuck yes," Katsuki growled out and in a haste hooked his arms underneath the back of Y/N's thighs, hoisting her in the air to lead them into the bedroom they're both familair with.

Journeying to her bedroom became a difficult task. If only she'd stop giving his neck, the most sensitve spot out of his entire body, kitten kisses then he'd be plowing her back by now. He grew weaker by the second as the shy, acute kisses trandsitioned into full on sucking and biting. Not that he was complaining.

Katsuki threw her down onto the bed, unable to contain his smile when she hiccuped a chorus of giggles. God, even her giggles are fucking contagious. Strong arms scooped her up momentarily, bringing her to the center of the bed. Grazing her aching spot was Katsuki's growing buldge. Y/N circled her arms around his tiny waist squeezing him closely as Katsuki rolled his hips downwards to meet hers. She seized Katsuki's bicep, whimpering, and rythmically pushed her groin towards his, the tin material of her shorts scraping the surface of his jeans deliciously. His head dragged down to her collarbones, panting softly, wetting the skin from the condesation of his breath.

"I want you so fucking bad, please," he managed to choke out in between the continous grinding.

Gaining a newfound confidence, Y/N mimiced the way how Bakugou unzipped her when they were still in opposite bodies and peeled back his briefs till his inflamed member popped out, smacking his lower belly. He cursed under his breath noticing the immense amount of pre-cum leaking from the head. As much as she wanted to lick it all up, there were other things to tend to. She shimmied out from her skimpy shorts and crop top, not wasting any time for lingering touches. But Y/N caught a menacing glare in his eyes. His attention was focused on something else. Looking down, she saw that she was sporting a sheer laced bra with matching panties. She definitely doesn't remember having these in her personal closet.

"You bought me lingerie?" Y/N tried to sound unfazed at the thought of Katsuki willingly purchasing these pretty undergarments for her. That must mean he's seen her boobs!

"Yeah? So what if I did. Your sense of fashion is nonexistent. I pitied you that much to where I bought you shit with my own money."

His face was stern, scarily resembling the times he'd be bashing someone's head on the concrete during a bloody battle. But his eyes told a different story. She couldn't quite pin point the time or place when she witnessed the same gleaming spark in those vermilion orbs, but she felt safe and wanted all in one.

So she began teasing the straps of her bra, head still in disbelief that the blonde underneath her bought it, and let the material slip off her shoulder seductively. Bakugou's breathing quickened as he watched y/n toy with the next strap. He stopped her midway.

"No," his fingers were ironically cold.

"No?" She questioned him, awkwardly frozen still on his lap. His evident boner pushing up against her sex, making her wet even more.

Numbly, Bakugou pulled up both of the straps to her bra and chuckled lightly to himself.

"I wanna fuck you with this on. It's been on my mind since I bought it," he admitted out loud.

Y/N held back a moan, his words carrying so much weight to them all the while directing it straight to her drenched pussy.

Without saying a word, y/n left acute kisses on Bakugou's neck, trailing it down further and further till she reached the leaking head of his member. He became antsy as she wrapped her petite hand around the base, fingers tracing the topography of his veins. Y/N saw the desperate look on his face and took all of him in her mouth, holding in the breath of oxygen she took before doing so. Bakugou hissed, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip nearly ripping the skin apart. This feels way better and more appropriate. He prefers her wet mouth over her fingers any day of the week.

Y/N sucked in her cheeks, allowing herself to take more of his member. The tip of his head eventually hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke due to the sudden pressure.

"F-Fuck. Holy shit, keep going," Katsuki begged, tears swelling in his ducts already.

The saliva from her open mouth created a natural lubricant, making it easy for her to bob her head up and down. Bakugou's ears picked up the erotic wet squelching sounds coming from her as she kept up the brutal pace, the noise alone making him want to come undone. The sight of y/n slobbering on his dick is now engraved in his head. He let out a wanton moan when she played with his balls, recalling the memory of him performing the same ministration on himself with her beautiful hands.

He can feel the familiar sensation spreading down below, his throat constricting as the stimulation of her sucking and licking becoming too much. Before she could continue, Bakugou reached over and lifted her head by her hair.

"I can't hold it in any longer. I need to be inside you now," his voice was strained to point where it came out as a whisper.

Pushing her back gently, Bakugou latched his mouth onto hers as he spread her legs wide apart. Revealing a canal of her wetness dripping from her panties to the inner thighs. Bakugou licked his lips hungrily. Mentally slapping himself for not tasting her before she gave him head. He'll make sure to explore that endeavor later.

Lips still locked, Bakugou tugged the bottom half of her laced panties aside, strings of her glistening wetness shimmering, and positioned himself at her aching entrance. The tip of his cock teased her folds, coating it even more. He agonizingly went in slow circles, occasionally slapping her clit with it. Y/N's arms were above her head, clutching the linen sheets in anticipation. Katsuki smirked against her lips at her wrecked expression.

"Bakugou please...," y/n pleaded with her full chest. She wants to know how it feels to be wrapped around him. To be one with him. "Don't hold back. Just fuck me."

Bakugou's eyes grew darker after the demand, pure lust taking control over his body now. He sheathed into her quickly without taking his eyes off of her face. A quiet whimper left her throat when he fully bottomed out. He checked for any signs of y/n looking displeased or uncomfortable, but he got his answer when he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in as close as possible. Bakugou basks in at the sight of y/n sucking him completely, her legs fully bent back in an awkward position. He decides to pull his cock halfway out. y/n whimpers due to loss of friction but gets rewarded seconds later when Katsuki rams his cock inside again, pushing all his weight onto her.

"Oh, fuck, Katsuki!," she whines, instinctively clutching her walls around him.

"You're so tight for me huh baby? Can't help but to clamp around this dick," Katsuki sneered while pumping tentative thrusts into her.

His hands clasped both of her thighs now, pulling her towards him, urging her to move in a harmonious dance with him. Finding somewhat of a rhythm, y/n fucked Katsuki back by rolling her hips, a synapse of heat exchanging between them. Sweat starts dripping down from the crown of his forehead onto the peaks of her breasts. Lost in thought, he tipped his head forward and lapped up the remains of his salty musk, tongue expertly twirling around the taunt nipple. Y/N mewled, hands searching - reaching - for anything to ground herself, settling on interlocking her fingers with Katsuki's nitroglycerin drenched hands. She titled her head and took a whiff.

Caramel and soap

A popping sound went off in her ears. Katsuki released her swollen tit only to look up with hooded eyes, his infamous smirk on full display.

"Open your mouth," was all he said before raising one of his fingers that she was so embarrassingly fixated on moments ago. When she didn't obey Katsuki grabbed her by the jaw and shoved not one, not two, but three fingers in her mouth. Like with his cock, she couldn't handle the intensified pressure in the back of her throat, gagging instantaneously.

"Atta girl. Just take my fingers like a good bitch. Oh? You like it when I degrade you huh? Don't lie, you tightened instantly when I said that." Katsukis pace sped up rapidly, pumping into her cunt like a madman, fingers still lodge down her throat. Each thrust left her shuddering for more, his hips meeting hers to create a loud song, the noise drowning out her muffled screams.

It became hard to see now, a tunnel vision of just a crimson glow. Soon she feels herself becoming light. Katsuki grew impatient and flipped y/n on her stomach, a tiny oof rocked out from her, and inserted his member back into her stretched out cunt.

Y/N yelps as Katsuki's cock hits the sweet spot - fresh tears flooding down her flushed face, babbling nonsense into her pillow.

She caves, sobbing, "yes, yes, ohgod. you feel so good. you're so fucking good -ah katsuki!"

Looming over her trembling body, the blonde slows his harsh thrusts to a savagely slow grind. He lowly chuckles watching her writhe and wiggle her body in desperation.

"You think you can just come that easy? Beg for me to let you come!"

Smack!

A harsh sting rattled her lower back, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip to avoid showing any pain.

"Such an asshole..." y/n huffed out, oblivious to the way how Katsuki was preparing for her next punishment.

Smack! Smack!

"Not good. Ask nicely for me to fuck this pretty pussy into the mattress."

More whimpers into the tear stained pillow.

"P-Please Katsuki..." she begins, frustration growing exponentially with every word. "Fuck me. I need your cock. I always needed your cock Katsuki. Make me scream out your name when I come!"

She didn't even have time to process what she said before Katsuki enclosed his hand around her throat, forcefully dragging her writhing body to his chest, cranking her head in a 90 degree angle. Cock still warming up her insides.

"That's my girl," he said before kissing her lips again, devouring the sweet noises she made.

Her neighbors were in for a long night. - Both of their bodies the next morning faced more damage than any crusade of a patrol. Bruises painted the outskirts of y/n's body, trailing from her thighs to the divots of her breasts. Katsuki paid no mind to it, seeing how he can make a bloody lip a trailblazer look.

Even though no one wanted speak much about the issue at hand - last night was a pivotal moment for their relationship.

Because y/n wouldn't be making a fresh batch of coffee for the Katsuki Bakugou in her kitchen right now.

Because Bakugou wouldn't be lounging by her washing machine, waiting for the timer to go off so he can put her bed sheets in the dryer.

They found themselves sitting comfortably in silence - the soft whipping of car horns outside her cracked window - Katsuki blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. It all seemed unreal to her. In any other circumstance they'd be at each other's necks by now, screaming nuisances in the air. She considers this whole ordeal a ruse. But it isn't. Thank god it isn't. Because Katsuki never looked calmer or relaxed in his entire life till now. And she wasn't going to bat an eye away from this ground breaking phenomenon.

Intently watching him drink from across the table, she ponders if Katsuki liked her from the get go, and maybe just disguised his feelings with disgust towards her later on. The question will go unanswered, possibly until he confides and tells the story himself, but for now she was content not knowing the what if.

"How did you know I like black coffee?" Katsuki asks, quirking up an eyebrow at her.

Y/N takes a long drag from her mug, indulging in the sweet taste of the caramel creamer.

She smiles and says, "I don't know. Just took a wild guess."

#mha smut #mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine

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minor-solemnity · 4 years ago

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 | Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards. And the press are having a field day. Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt. An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning. Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem. All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.”

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #accidently married

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wangxianficrecs · 4 years ago

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Tips On Making A Fic Rec Blog

*Please reblog? This post is (ironically) not showing up in the tags*

These are just suggestions for a Nonny, so please remember that ymmv!

~*~

Start with a clear idea of what your blog will feature.

Different rec blogs focus on different things. Some are more about archiving/retrieval, some include tumblr fics and twitter threadfics along with ao3 fics. Some reblog other people’s rec posts alongside their own. You might want to run a blog that only recs fics suitable for minors, or only kink, or only fic from sites other than AO3, etc. You could focus on a single pairing, or all ships; a single show or multiple fandoms. It helps if you know your focus in advance, so that you can advertise yourself.

For example, my blog only recs stories that I’ve personally read (excepting clearly differentiated Follower Recs, Fic Finders and Mood For posts). My focus is on adding my own comments/summary and my own tags to each rec, because that is what matters to me when I’m selecting a fic. (My cover graphics get attention, and they’re tremendously fun to do, which is why they’re there—I appreciate visuals!—but it’s a huge time commitment, which is probably why no one else does it.)

~*~

Keep it Streamlined

I would suggest that you not use your rec blog to just reblog random fan content (art, gifs, meta, etc.), personal stuff, current events, etc. Save that for another, messier blog. The more concise your offering is, the more people will be willing to follow it. But that’s entirely up to you.

~*~

*Always assume the author will read your rec/bookmark*

Fandom is actually a small world. Be kind and stay positive. Please don’t say things like, The story was great but the grammar/characterization was terrible. Just. Don’t. It’s so harmful. Authors do this for free, and don’t deserve to be stripped raw in public because you want to write a critical review. (This goes for your AO3 bookmarks, too, which are public by default and ALWAYS cruised by the authors.)

~*~

Tag Page - make one!

One of the most important things about running a useful fic rec blog is archiving, which means you should create a tag page (here’s a how to). Find other people’s tag pages to use as a guide, so you’re not overwhelmed by categories. I’ve used the very well-organized wheredidhiseyebrowsgo and mdzs-fic to help me figure out the best way to categorize themes, tropes, etc.

~*~

Tag Your Posts

Only the first 5 tags will show up in public tag feeds (for example, if someone tracks #wangxian, and you use that tag, they’ll see your post on their dash feed even if they aren’t following you). So pick your first 5 tags very carefully, because that’s how people are going to discover your posts. Pick tags that are popular and common, so that you’re seen.

Only the first 20 tags will show up in a dashboard search, so tags 21- ∞ are only useful within your own blog. (Actually, tags might stop at 30, these days, I’ve been cut off a few times when I go over.)

On your blog, ‘search’ and ‘tagged’ will find different posts even if all of them have your term in the tags. So when you’re making your tag page, try both of them on for size and then pick the one that pulls up the most/best options. (I usually use ‘search’.) [Example: https://wangxianficrecs.tumblr.com/tagged/3zun vs https://wangxianficrecs.tumblr.com/search/3zun]

Be consistent! Don’t tag wangxian one time and lan zhan/wei ying the next, for example, or fox!wwx and later use fox wei wuxian. You’ve only got maybe 30 tags to work with, and one tag page!

The tumblr censor-bot will often render your posts invisible to all but your followers, so be careful what you put in tags. *cough* sex acts *cough* Tags that have set off the censor-bot: #prostate exam, #role reversal, #virgin, #explicit. (ETA: this post is actually invisible to searches, probably because of this very paragraph. Sigh.) As you can see, the list is puritanical along with occasionally being simply baffling. Check your post once you’ve posted by clicking on one of the first 5 tags to see if it shows up. If it doesn’t, no one can find it except your followers, so start eliminating any tags or text you think might offend a conservative granny… it’ll show up eventually. Hopefully. Maybe.

~*~

Tumblr Limitations

Tumblr tag searches only pull up the last 200 posts with that tag. Do with that what you will. (My blog has nearly 700 recs at this point, so the common tags, like ‘wangxian’, will only pull up the recent posts.)

Tumblr will sometimes just… remove your links. I haven’t figured out a pattern, it’ll just take some out randomly from here and there. You are limited to only 200 links total (soon to be only 100 😟). So be aware.

Sometimes your posts won’t show up in searches or tag feeds for no discernable reason. If you don’t see an obvious culprit (like the word ‘prostate’), just attribute it to chaotic coding nonsense and decide whether you want to re-post (not reblog) a day or so later to see if that works better.

On your dashboard, a ‘search’ will sort through titles, some content, and tags 1-20 —whereas ‘tagged’ only covers the first 5 tags.

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Searches on AO3 vs. Tumblr

AO3 has a MUCH more robust search feature, and it’ll pull up so much more than your tag page on Tumblr... due to Tumblr’s limitations, not your own as an archivist. So if you keep your AO3 bookmarks in order, you can direct followers to search those if they need more granular or complete searches.

AO3 Collections is a fabulous feature—mine is WangxianFicRecs. You can make one for your rec posts so that you and others can select and exclude multiple tags at a time. I suggest you just do a bookmarks collection rather than a works collection, because the latter requires the authors to approve their inclusion, while the former is something you control completely. @ao3commentoftheday has helpful posts on #How To AO3.

One last thing about AO3 bookmarks. This being a fandom where many authors get bullied out, I've begun adding the fic title & author to my bookmarks, so I can still find it once a work has been hidden or deleted. I also download PDFs of each work I rec, so that it doesn't vanish forever. (I don't make them publicly available, but I will share them on an individual basis unless the author asks me not to.)

~*~

These are things I’ve worked out over the entire past year, so don’t get overwhelmed, you don’t have to do all (or any) of this, and certainly not all at once.

I hope this helps, good luck, and have fun!

~ mojo

P.S. I don’t have a clue how tag pages work on mobile, since I don’t use mobile for any of this. I think it sucks, though?

[I posted this once before, here.]

#make your own rec blog #how to make a rec blog #fic rec blog #how to #tips for making a fic rec blog #fic recs #how to tumblr #wangxian fic recs #fic rec guide

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vemuabhi · 4 years ago

Text

ITS OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK

Stressed Reader Comfort!

Hello!!! I am so happy you requested my dear! I am so happy to write for you. Please drink water and take care of yourself. I know it’s a hard time. But don’t lose hope and don’t let stress eat you up. You are loved and you are needed.

Pairing : Sanji X Reader

Word count : 2.2K

Warnings : Not proof read, Stress, insomnia, Hurt then comfort and a very adorable Sanji

Sanji post Tagging : @ye-rin164

Assignment after assignment. Projects, seminars and exams. Forget about dates, you are not even having time to sleep properly since the last month. Still you stayed up many nights writing all the assignments. Researching stuff needed for the seminars. Memorising all the chapters from all the subjects. Praying to get good credits every time. Even sleeping for those 3 hours a day seemed so stressful because of your piled up assignments, which your teachers just dumped on you mercilessly.

Slowly because of lack of sleep and hectic works, dark circles were visible clearly under your eyes. Headaches became regular now. You weren’t able to focus on things properly. You just… tried to go along with the flow of day. Anything you ate tasted bland making you to loose appetite. All you now wanted was a day to just… rest.

Ignoring the good morning and good night messages from a certain someone made you feel guilty. But because of work, you couldn’t even catch a break. Yes… stress was building up in you.

Researching and taking print outs for the next “group” seminar made you work even harder. Yeah as you know how there is at least one person in the group who doesn’t even attempt to do work. Now you had FREAKING two of them in your 5 member’s team. Guess what happened. You three had to now share the burden of the remaining work.

‘Good thing Sanji isn’t here to see how much of a mess I am right now’, you thought sipping your caffeine. You felt lucky that you were at least getting time to take a quick shower every day.

On the other hand, Sanji knew. He knew how terrible your work was getting, making you to give him a single reply every two days, letting him know you were alive. If you didn’t give him that reply, he’d have gotten a panic attack on how you were. No regular messages, no dates, no video calls, not a single god damn normal call. He was really getting worried. But he stayed patient.

Nami and Robin chan suggested him to go and meet you, but he thought if he went, he’d be a problem to you for not letting you finish your work. His heart was earning to see you. To hug you. To make you something to eat. To just… be with you.

As days passed, you were getting more and more annoyed and you started to have breakouts for almost everything and nothing. Even the smallest things were making you cry. Like once You even cried as you saw a small puppy outside your apartment.

You hated to cry. But because of this pressure you couldn’t even control your emotions. You felt like you were losing yourself.

At Sanji’s house, he and Zoro were doing dishes but Sanji couldn’t help but to worry about you.

“Its just a gut feeling but I cant help but to worry”, Sanji sighed.

“If you feel like shit, why not just go to her place?”, asked Zoro

“Tsk, Its not that easy. What if I interrupt her?”, replied Sanji washing his hands after giving the last plate to Zoro.

The green haired man took the plate and placed it into the shelf. He sighed and said, “Look cook. It’s okay to go and check on her once a while, If you are worried. Maybe she needs you too”

Sanji never thought of that. He was always insecure and felt that he might disturb you if he met you. But this gut feeling of his was telling him to atleast go and see you.

“In 5 minutes, I’m leaving”, the blond told his roommate before going into his room. Zoro just smirked before closing the shef door.

You sat in the corner of the room. Your books were still open and you knew you were supposed to study. Then… the negative thoughts hit you. Your brain wanted to play some tricks on you. And it chose this freaking time to do that.

‘Yeah… you are not gonna get good grades even if you do this’

‘Sanji is so hardworking. He’d be so disappointed to have a person like you as his lover’

‘All your assignments are worthless, stop giving yourself enough credit’, you looked into your mirror.

Tears slid down your face. You looked terrible. With messy hair, unwashed clothes, dirty room. You wanted to tear the place down. You were so hurt and pressured.

*Ring*

Your train of thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You wiped your tears quickly and stumbled as you made your way towards the main door. You swung open the door and your (eye colour) orbs met the all blue orbs. The golden hair smoothly covered one of his eye. His smile brightly as seeing you.

“Aish! Y/N, how many time have I told you to check before opening the do-”, He didn’t even complete his sentence and you ran into his arms, tightly embracing him, making him to take a step back.

He instantly knew something was wrong with the way to you hugged him. He wrapped his arms around your body. You started to cry as he hugged you.

“Sanji… I… I can’t… I hate this. I don’t like this”, you whimpered between your sobs. He soothingly rubbed the back of your head.

Without breaking the hug, he pulled you inside the house and locked the door. Leaning his back on the door, with still you hugging him, he pulled you even closer. He patted your back while you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N, look at me dear”, he asked and you slowly looked at him. His expression from worry turned to one of a sad one.

“I missed you so much”, you cried even more looking at him.

“Shhh~~ Y/N, I’m here. Please don’t cry. This hardship will pass away. Don’t let the stress eat you up”, he kissed your forehead as he calmly whispered into your ear.

Actually Sanji was also so hurt because of your situation. But if he wasn’t strong, who would encourage you.

Soothing your tears away, he kissed your eyes.

“I am sorry. I look horrible”, you sniffed and damn yes, he was not happy by the way you said it.

“Don’t ever say that. You are the most amazing and hardworking person. Give yourself a bit more credit”, he shook your shoulders as he said that.

“Listen here, you are tired, but you are still very much beautiful. All you need is a good night sleep”, he said as he pulled you towards your bedroom.

The bed was a mess. Books, papers, laptop, stationary on it. You felt embarrassed as Sanji saw you in your worst state.

“Sorry Sanji for making you see this”, you said as Sanji just made his way into the room and started to quickly clean the bed.

“You are apologising way too much Y/N. If I didn’t support you now, I shouldn’t even call myself your friend let alone your boyfriend”, he said.

Within minutes, he cleared everything up. You went towards the table to continue your work, but then, you felt your wrist being grabbed.

You looked at him and he looked at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, I never said you should now write your paper”, he said sternly. Even though his voice was deep, his eyes showed worry.

“But I should complete it”, you said but he was quick to pull you towards him. He lifted you up with grace and walked towards the bed swiftly and plopped you on it. You couldn’t even protest because of how quickly it happened.

You tried to get up but then he decided to jump on you and cuddle you. You chuckled at how he behaved like a small child. When he heard your laugh he looked up to you, his head still placed on your chest. Oh how much he wanted to hear that laugh of yours. But you yourself didn’t knew when you fell asleep. As Sanji was looking while you laughed, you almost immediately fell asleep.

He smiled at you as you slept. He woke up and went towards your desk and sat on the chair.

Looking at the assignment that you should start, he analysed what you wrote in the roughly at the side. He took your phone and placed his thumb on the finger print scanner. Yes of course, you guys are having the healthiest relationship. He went towards the pdf of the assignment due dates and found the assignment you were working on. And damn he got angry at how many assignments you were given. The one you were working on was to be submitted the day after tomorrow.

‘Damn… no wonder Y/N had to stay up most of the night for these’, he thought as he called one of the smartest people he knew. No… it wasn’t Luffy. He has the devils Luck to pass his exams.

“Hey Robin chan! This is Sanji”, he said as he looked at the assignment.

“Hi Sanji. What happened?”, she inquired

“Robin chan, I actually need some help”, he started to ask about the assignment and how to collect the required information related to it.

Robin chan understood the situation and started to explain.

“So Sanji, Don’t waste your time searching all the websites. Just go to the websites I told you and you can see almost every possible explanation required to you”

Sanji searched on the laptop as he placed the phone between his shoulder and ear. The un-lit cigarette was dangling between his lips. The habbit of having it made him focus on things even more. But he ofcourse didn’t want to light it and make you wake up from its smell. And for gods sake, it was your divine room. He would never light a cigarette here. Soon he could see the information required to your assignment.

“Oh yes! I got it Robin chan! Thanks for your help”, he thanked her and they both ended the call after the exchanging a few more casual talks.

He looked at some other sites Robin mentioned and found everything that you required for writing this assignment. He actually wanted to write for you but, he knows that you’d feel guilty if he wrote it. So he just searched it for you. Then looked at another assignment which was the next one you had to submit in 5 days from now. So, he started to search for it and found the required information. He looked at the time and noticed that, it was already 2 in the morning. He didn’t even knew how the time passed while he searched for the information.

Sanji stretched his arms and stood up. He walked towards the bad, where you were sleeping peacefully. He smiled at you before kissing your forehead. He hugged you as he slept beside you.

The next day you woke up to the aroma of the food. You woke up from the best sleep you had. It was so refreshing and you felt so much better with it. You got up from the bed and went to the kitchen, where you saw the blond cooking for you.

You hugged him from behind as he grinned at your cute behaviour. “Good morning love”, he greeted you as he placed one of his arm around your shoulder and snuggled closer to you.

“Thanks for making this baby. I am so thankful for this”, you said pecking his cheek. He smiled and continued to make the breakfast.

“Its alright. Well, Y/N, you need to eat before you start writing the assignment. You smiled looking at him. ‘I am sure lucky’, you thought. You ate breakfast and then Sanji showed you the information he collected to write the assignment. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall in love with him more, he proved you wrong.

He was beside you leaning down with the laptop before you two as he was talking about some websites Robin chan mentioned. You placed your hand on his chin and turned him towards you then pulled him in for a kiss.

“I think, I found the best boyfriend one could have. I’m so lucky”, you said as you hugged him

He blushed so hard when you said that.

“AHHH!! AND YOU ARE THE BEST GIRLFRIEND Y/N, I LOVE YOU TOO”

That day you both wrote the assignments together and finished them.

“Its okay to ask for help Y/N, I am always happy to help you”, Sanji said as he held the finished papers of the assignment.

You smiled back at him and said, “Thankyou Sanji. I… I’ll ask your help”

XOXOXOXO

So, I hope you liked this one shot. I felt so connected writing this. If you are facing a similar situation. Just remember. You need rest and you can always ask for help. Please give yourself credit and stay positive.

Like/Vote, Comment, Reblog/Share if you liked it!

Follow for more content!!

#sanji x reader #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmokes #Zoro One Piece #robin one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece fanfiction

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weareallstoriesintheend · 4 years ago

Text

Promises (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and his guard make their escape

Word Count: 3,395

Warnings: Violence. Part 2 of the Escape Series, Here is Part 1 Zemo Tag List: @lucky-luck-lucky @neoarchipelago @mrs-mischief-209 @londoninamerica

“This is a terrible fucking idea” You kept Zemo close behind you as you rounded the tight corner, the deafening sound of the alert alarm had started blasting the second someone realised a prisoner was no longer in their cell. You’d tried your best to get as far through the plan as possible but part of this involved trusting him to get you both out of here and something irritating in the back of your mind was making you doubt that decision. The corridor was in darkness except for cuts of light from the small windows high up towards the ceiling - sunrise was almost over. “Well I hate to inform you my dear but I’m just following your plan” Zemo whispered back, following closely at your heels as you both half walked, half ran down the corridor. “Also, may I add, you look beautiful in this light”

“Shut up” you hissed.

The alarms blaring in the corridors were making your heart pound almost as loudly. You were running out of time, you know you’d planned this down to the last second but this was reckless in the best of circumstances. The Raft was no normal prison; it was a prison for enhanced persons which meant security was tighter and much less likely to fail. Early morning was your choice due to the lack of guards around on each floor; you’d made it so that you were on inspection duty again. Due to the limited prisoners things had gotten lazy around here and you figured you could only make this work to your advantage. It was going well, it was perfect even. You’d given up trying to avoid cameras as you ran down the service corridor towards a blind spot you knew existed that would give you a moments respite ready for the final step. You would bet money on the fact they knew it was you doing this so as much you were aiming to get himout it was also imperative to get yourself out too. Who else would it be? It was Zemo and there was only one person in this whole place who would want to break his cocky ass out and that was you.

“Your friend better show up” you whispered through gritted teeth trying to steady your breathing.

“He will” Zemos breathing was just as fast but his face remained stoic. He watched you when he thought you were looking, curious eyes scanning your face. You presumed he was calculating how best to get rid of you when he was out of this place but you were doing this to give him the benefit of the doubt. Much like everyone else The Raft housed he was here because he thought he was doing the right thing. Everything he did was for his family and you couldn’t help but feel for that side of him. The man who kept his promises.

You rifled through the backpack you were carrying and handed him a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie to change into “Wear this; I’m not walking you around wearing that uniform”. He smiled taking them from you instantly pulling the top of his prison uniform over his head; you hastily diverted your eyes. Both of you were huddled in an enclosed part of the corridor to stay out of sight of anyone who may come searching, a great choice for safety. However this also meant that, despite the fact you diverted your eyes, you could feel his bare skin brushing against your arms as he moved to change.

“I’ve had guards watching me use the bathroom for months dear one, do you really think I’m concerned by you seeing me change?” he chuckled quietly before handing you his discarded clothes, “Also how did you know my sizes?” he asked adjusting the hoodie that sat perfectly across his shoulders.

“I read your file” you shrugged. Your phone beeped in your pocket, the message simply read ‘On the roof’

You grabbed Zemo by the scruff of the hoodie and pulled him closer “Do exactly as I tell you, got it?”

He nodded “Of course, a woman in charge is simply irresistible”

You scoffed and started dragging him along the service corridor. There was an access point to the roof along here that stupidly sat in a complete blind spot from the cameras. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you heard a clear, ringing gunshot behind you “Stop right there” You sighed, knowing the gruff tones of your superior officer anywhere; you raised your hands mockingly and spun in place on your heels staring him down. Zemo followed your motions throwing you a quick, indiscernible look before his back was turned to you. “Of course it would be you. You and your boyfriend better keep your hands up where I can see them” “David listen – “ he cut you off by firing another warning shot. “Shut up” he shouted, voice reverberating off the metal walls. He reached up and spoke into the radio that was clipped to his shoulder. “Did you bring what I told you too?” Zemo whispered over his shoulder. You stuttered, your brain was going at 30 miles an hour and it was hard to keep yourself on point. You knew exactly what he was talking about; you could feel the metal of it pressing into your back. “Yes but no, you can’t” you mumbled, your eyebrows raised in panic as Zemo turned to you. You internally rolled your eyes at how surprised you felt by his calmness, it was like you’d forgotten who he was.

“I said don’t move” you heard David shout, another warning shot hitting the roof. You flinched and urged Zemo turn around with wide eyes.

“It’s now or never. Do you trust me?” Zemo asked simply.

You paused, searching his face for any sign of deception. Sighing you lowered your arms, you blocked out the frantic shouting from David as best you could by keeping your eyes trained on Zemos. You could see David in your periphery with his gun raised; you slipped your hands behind your back and under your shirt. You pulled out the weapon you’d been given by Zemos friend and slotted it into his hands.

Before you could blink Zemo spun with the gun raised. You had expected him simply to shoot but he began walking slowly forward towards David, you panicked and your feet stumbled after him. He shot one hand back firmly to stop you before returning it to its steady position holding the gun.

“Stop right there Zemo” David shouted, his gun also raised and trained on Zemo who was steadily still walking towards him. You could see Davids confused panic matching your own.

You shuffled on your feet wanting to shout out to him to stop, did he have a death wish?! Then you remembered the story he’d told you about Siberia and your heart pounded harder. He’d held a gun in his hand then too but you certainly don’t have the bulletproof Blank Panther armour to stop him this time. ‘Please tell me he’s not going to commit suicide by cop and just leave me here’ you thought to yourself, begging to the voice inside your own head. David was practically screaming instructions, ranting demands in his confusion at Zemos steely defiance. Then before you could ascertain what happened Zemo fired a shot. David dropped – it was that quick. Mere seconds. Blood oozed slowly out onto the cold concrete floor and you stared half in shock.

“You know for a man who was always so hot on officers wearing protective uniforms you’d think he’d a least wear a scrap of armour himself” you whispered, thinking out loud. As Zemo reached you once more you tsk’d and smacked his chest hard “Don’t show off like that again!” He chuckled and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Pushing his hair back he then gestured to the laddered stairs that lead to the roof, “After you” You made your way to clamber up the ladder, “Don’t stare at my ass!”

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

As you reached the roof the helicopter blades were already going, winds blasted you both causing your hair to swirl in front of your face. You watched Zemo greet the pilot with a small wave and he began walking forward towards the open helicopter door. For some reason it was at this moment your body froze. Your hair whipped your face and you struggled to stay in place with the force of the winds but you couldn’t move your feet. You’d given up everything, just like that – he’d somehow convinced you to give up everything for him. There was no way to come back from this, not one single way.

You wanted to scream at yourself for being stupid or naive but you couldn’t help yourself - you trusted him. You didn’t understand how or why but you did; something about him made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth and never look back. If someone asked for an explanation you wouldn’t have the words and that was a strangely beautiful notion to you.

Something told you he was a good man; despite his past and all he had done he was a good man. He had murdered, tortured and maimed but to you he was a lost soul who needed company. A man who had lost everything and fought like hell to keep one simple promise.

He shouted your name over the whirring blades, you looked up to see he had stopped also and he was running back to you, crouched low to avoid getting hit.

“Second thoughts?” he asked as he got close enough to you to lower his voice, a small smile played on his lips. You shook your head but didn’t speak. He stepped closer to you again, almost toe to toe “I apologise about your friend”

“H-he wasn’t a friend”

“Then why did you stop?”

You opened and closed your mouth stupidly, like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. You felt him cautiously put his hands on your upper arms, running his thumbs over your skin.

“I promised I would protect you, you deserve a life outside of this prison as I do” You noticed that despite the strength of his Sokovian accent it was also calm and delightful in its gravelly tone. You found it almost comforting listening to the way he formed his words so delicately.

That was the moment you realised it wasn’t that you didn’t believe him, as he spoke you trusted what he was saying, you trusted he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t Zemo that had made you stop.

“It’s just… this is the first time I’ve been in fresh air in 9 months”

His eyebrows rose in surprise at your admission before his face softened, he reached up and ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He didn’t speak but took your hand and pulled just a little. You staggered on your feet but followed, he placed his hand softly on the back of your head as you both moved together to keep you low and out of harm.

He stepped in first, speaking in Sokovian to the pilot whom he called Oeznik. Scrambling in behind him you gathered your backpack between your feet. You sat huddled against him as a deep shiver wracked through your body. He looked down with sympathy set behind his eyes and leaned his arm across your shoulder. You leaned forward out of his touch suddenly and bent down for your bag.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean too-“ he began hesitantly, afraid that he’d offended you with his physical affection, but you stopped him by sitting up and placing a small plastic wrapped package into his lap.

“What is this?” he asked curiously, turning it over in his hands before unravelling the wrapping slightly. Small hard multi-coloured candies tumbled out into his waiting palm.

“Turkish Delight. You said your son liked them.” you blushed at your own words, embarrassed at the familiarity you showed him and you were unable to hold his eye contact as you continued “I thought it would a comforting introduction back into the world”

He unwrapped a sweet and popped it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and a soft smile spread across his face. You watched him for a second before he opened his eyes; you gave him a shy unsure look before he leant in and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you milaya”

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

“Holy shit” you whispered under your breath.

The room he led you into was expansive, he’d told you this was one of his homes in the area but the place looked like a palace inside. Everything was adorned in deep ornate gold tones with rich ruby and burnt orange colours intertwined. The ceilings were impossibly high and housed a huge crystal chandelier that twinkled in the beaming sunlight that came through large elaborate windows at the back of the room. The floors under your feet were intricate mosaic tile and you suddenly felt the need to tread a little lighter in your heavy boots.

“Impressive isn’t it?” he smirked; he gesticulated to a rack of clothes that was against one wall. “You need to change, pick anything you like” and with that statement he disappeared behind a curtain. He was still sort of visible to you, ruffling around in what you presumed were his own clothes.

“So what, I break you out of prison and you give me a dress? Seems like a fair deal” you said sarcastically, voice raised so he could hear you.

“No, you break me out of prison and I give you the life I promised you. If you want it” he shouted back.

“You’ll be on the run for the rest of your born days Zemo. What life?!” that panic had set back in again now you were out in the real world. Your fingers tapped against your thighs and you stared around you wide eyed. This was all so overwhelming.

“Exactly. We can go wherever, whenever. We’ll stay in the shadows and live how we want too”

He appeared from behind the curtain, he was now dressed cleanly in fresh black jeans and an aubergine purple turtleneck. He draped a fur collared coat around his shoulders and extended his arms “You like it?” he grinned at your staring.

You swallowed hard and nodded. He looked expensive and far out of your league. As you absentmindedly smoothed rich silk materials between your fingers you suddenly remembered you’d run away with a Baron. The teasing smirk still played on his lips as he approached you, he traced down your arm watching the way his touch raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You think people are just going to let you go? The Raft will be looking for you. The Wakandans! You think they are just going to let this slide?”

He shushed you and pushed hair out of your eyes “What I said was no lie, you deserve a life and I’m going to give it to you. A woman as skilled and beautiful as you deserves to show off no?”

You swallowed again, nodding gingerly at his words trying to convince yourself more than him to calm down and trust him.

“Why am I picking out dresses?” you asked quietly, noticing you were still slipping silk material through your fingers that belonged to the beautiful dresses far beyond your pay grade.

“We’re going out” he said matter of factly, walking across the room and pouring himself something from the decanter on the side.

“We can’t go out!” you protested frantically, abandoning your dress choices and scurrying after him. You grabbed him by the forearm of his free arm and gripped him tightly.

“I’ll only take you to places where I know you will be safe. Let me show you freedom” he whispered, leaning close to your face. Whispers of whatever golden brown liquid he was drinking filled your nostrils and you exhaled the breath you had been holding. He put the glass down and spun you so your back was against his chest, his breath ghosted over your exposed neck and you resisted the urge to shiver. He directed your body towards the wrack of clothes and brought his lips to your ear, “Plus any chance to see you out of that guards uniform would be a blessing”

You tutted and wriggled out of his grasp, rolling your eyes at him over your shoulder before turning away hiding a blushing smile.

You hummed to yourself, pushing clothes back and forth on the rack before you pulled out a wine red dress, admiring its beauty. The red was deep against your pale skin, the feeling of the silk was like butter and the thought of it brushing your upper thighs made you tremble.

Like he could read your mind Zemo had walked quietly behind you and placed a hand lightly against your thigh, brushing his fingers with just a little pressure. His voice at your ear snapped you out of the trance “It will suit you”

You took the dress, grabbing a pair of shoes, and sauntered behind the curtain. Gingerly starting to remove your clothes that were sticking to you with sweat you thought about how you could probably do with a shower but something told you there was no time. Your body was thrumming with anxiety, your first night of freedom from that place – for the both of you – and mostly you wanted to relax and enjoy Zemos company. Talking to him without bullet proof glass and steel bars between you seemed like bliss in your head. The thought of getting to brush his hair back as he spoke, like you had thought of doing so many times, made your fingertips tingle. But you were still fighting back a nervous tremble that shook your entire body, was this going too far? Was it too soon? He could sense your anxiety from behind the curtain as you moved quietly but hastily so he spoke up, voice soft “I mean it, you are mine. I keep safe what is mine” You poked your head out from behind the curtain holding the gold shoes you were about to slip on; you raised a stern eyebrow at his presumption that you were ‘his’. He smiled, playfully trying to peek behind the curtain but you pulled it up to cover yourself “You know what I mean” he said.

You giggled and pulled the curtain back fully, watching his eyes drift down your figure as you smoothed the silk of the dress over your curves self-consciously and bent to fasten the shoes, “I know” you said with a soft smile.

He guided you closer to him with light hands, just the cautious tips of his fingers creating a tantalising pressure on your hips, “You look simply ravishing” he gushed; accent accentuating the low gravel of his voice. You simpered and shook your head, he tsk’d at your defiance “You do, a princess!”

You openly laughed this time, pushing against his chest teasingly “Shut up”

He smiled with you, refusing to let go of your hips and pulling you back, the heels of your shoes clicked quietly on the tile floor as you stumbled closer to him raising your hands to press against his chest to steady yourself. He drifted his hands up your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, eyes studying every inch of you. His fingers linked gently into your hair, massaging ever so lightly against your scalp and you sighed closing your eyes for just a split second. Suddenly you felt lips press against yours; you gasped and he took that chance to deepen the kiss just a little. You whimpered softly and your fingers tightened their grasp on his clothes before sliding down to wrap around his waist as you melted against him. This wasn’t a moment for hot and heavy; it was affectionate and shy – a delicate exploration of something new, terrifying and captivating. As you felt him lean slightly back from you your eyes fluttered open, body protesting his momentary retreat.

“I keep my promises” he whispered against your lips.

“I know you do”

#mcu #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x ofc #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo fluff #zemo fanfic #oeznik #zemo angst #baron zemo fic #zemo #falcon and winter solider series #falcon and winter soldier #tfatws

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shades-of-stony · 4 years ago

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Heavy Angst (And Not-So-Heavy but Still Angsty) Stony Fanfics!

I’m absolutely love a good Tony whump and hurt story so prepare to see a lot of those here! Get your tissues ready!

Push by phoenixreal

Summary: Tony Stark was known for pissing people off, it was a given. Then, after the man everyone thought was nothing more than a selfish prick decided to nearly kill himself saving Manhattan from a nuclear bomb, even the most sure of Tony's bastard status had to rethink it. And then, his team who were sure they had him pegged, they were invited (ordered) to move into Stark Tower with him. To their surprise, they found he had furnished full floors for each of them, somehow knowing their tastes exactly, including a floor dedicated to the resident Asgardian who would only be there some of the time. Surprised, and please, they all wonder at the enigma that is their host. After a couple months, Pepper Potts stops coming around so much, and they realize that something has exchanged between them because they are rather professional to each other. Pepper still frets over Tony, but instead tells the others to keep an eye on him rather than doing it herself. They easily forget that Tony is, and always has been, simply a human civilian. Then things get strange when they find themselves locked down within Stark tower, and after a harrowing viewing of a mysterious video, they find their resident playboy is completely gone.

Note: Prepare to cry and be hurt! This fanfic dabbles with Tony’s insecurity, self-worth, and issues. Please heed the warnings!

The words you choose to say by masterlokisev159

Summary: After the SHRA, the events around Steve’s death and Tony discovering he deleted part of his brain, Tony finally decides he's done enough. With Osborn taken care of, Tony leaves the Avengers and decides to quit being Ironman effective immediately.

He tells himself it doesn't hurt when Steve agrees. Why should it? After everything he's done, the team's better off without him.

However before he can truly move on, there are things he needs to take care of, and it's not long before he realizes he's dangerously close to losing his company. He's desperate and willing to do anything to keep it together.

So when, after months of silence, Steve asks him to drop everything and come work for Shield, Tony finds he doesn't have a choice. He agrees, no matter how much he knows he shouldn't. His reputation isn't exactly the best after the SHRA and he's heard stories of what he'd done as Director. He's knows what he's done. He's knows he's responsible for what happened to Steve.

He just wishes someone had warned him first. He hadn't been prepared to deal with the consequences.

Note: A 1000/10 angst fanfic that made me weep at 3 am in the morning. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. READ IT AND PREPARE TO CRY BUCKETS

Protocol SOTERIA by GoldenFinches

Summary: Friday's primary objective at all times is to protect one Anthony Edward Stark. And she will fulfill that objective no matter what it takes. Even if it means including certain people she thought she would never have to deal with again.

(Basically the Rogue Avengers get some sense knocked into them with the help of Friday and handful of videos.)

Note: A HIGHLY RECOMMENDED ANGSTY FANFIC. I CRIED SO MUCH READING THIS.

Straight to Voicemail by YouMakeMeDokiDoki

Summary: "I DID!" Tony screamed, cutting Steve off mid-sentence and whirling around to glare at him.

"I CALLED YOU! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

The one where no one answered their phone and things got out of hand.

Note: this will absolutely break you heart.

Sunshine and Luck by ImportedfromMunich2

Summary: Months after Siberia, Steve and the rest of the defectors are pardoned and allowed back onto the Avengers, with the help of Tony Stark. Now that they're back - nothing is the same as before. Tony is even avoiding Steve at all costs.

Then one night - Tony barges into Steve's bedroom while he sleeps, and they have spontaneous, passionate sex.

Only, the Tony Stark he just fucked isn't from this universe.

Now, Steve has to find a way to explain to Tony that he had sex with his counterpart from another dimension.

Note: A good Steve whump fic!

When You Mess With Him... by REM_It_Up

Summary: During an event with the Avengers, Tony is kidnapped by an unknown group of men right in front of the team. The group who took Tony taunt the Avengers by leaving small clues to Tony's whereabouts. When the kidnappers finally get in contact with the team, they are forced to watch Tony get tortured on camera.

The Avengers desperately search for their missing friend before they never see him again.

The kidnappers are smart and fast, they have everything figured out in order to get away with their plan...They just forgot one thing--

Colonel James Rhodes

Note: Now this is really heavy! Brace yourselves for a kidnapped and tortured tony! Also, protective honey bear aka Rhodey bonus here!

To Need is Not To Want by Brixon

Summary: All his life Tony has been used as a means to someone's end. Always someone's tool in a game. Carelessly thrown aside, once they had no longer use of him. He keeps it bottled up because, because he's Tony Stark. But he's always had this desire that one day someone would come who would stay because they wanted and needed him. He thought he had that with the Avengers, but after everything with the Accords and everyone leaving after Civil War that hope of having something of his to stay was gone.

Despite being burned constantly, Tony still has this wanting. So when Ryder, an old college friend, comes back into his life and actually seems to want to stay because he wants AND needs Tony, Tony is beyond thrilled. Because Ryder is staying. It doesn't matter if the bruises stay too.

But what happens when the Avengers return and Tony finds himself wondering once again exactly what he wants and what he needs.

Note: I’m sure, from the summary, you can tell that it’s a heartbreak here.

Hiding Things Is All Too Easy - Until It Isn't by audhds

Summary: Tony hasn't been the same since Bucky arrived at Stark Tower. That much is obvious. But Steve is overjoyed to have his best friend back and is somewhat oblivious to how Tony is withdrawing away from him. Because surely Tony is just overworked as usual. He must be quiet and jumpy because he is sleep deprived. And of course he has a few cuts and bruises on the visible parts of his skin - he fights and works for the Avengers as a living. It's part of the job description. Until it isn't.

Will Steve discover the physical and mental trauma that Tony is going through before it is too late?

Note: This is even heavier! Please read the tags carefully! Also, this has some serious Bucky bashing! If you are a Bucky fan but still interested in this, please prepare yourself.

No Trait As Much As This by KandiSheek

Summary: Tony gets hit with truth serum. It's a terrible time for everyone.

Note: A bit lighter than the others but still angst nonetheless. The added truth serum element makes this even more interesting!

Good For You by @orbingarrow

Summary: Steve doesn't understand why Tony dates people who abuse him. Tony doesn't understand why Steve cares.

The rest is bad choices, good choices, rehab, milkshakes, paintball, YouTube videos, couples therapy and learning to put the past in the past. Or: How Tony finds his happy ending.

Note: Another Tony-in-abusive-relationships fanfic!!

hold the things you wanna say by SailorChibi

Summary: Tony is still a consultant, and between SI, the team and SHIELD he's overworked and exhausted. That's okay.

He and Steve have been having sex for weeks but that's all it is, just sex, and Tony wants more but he'll never get it and that's okay. Really.

What's not okay is the fact that Howard Stark has somehow appeared in the future and is the same as always.

This is definitely going to fuck up his schedule.

Note: Anyone up for some Howard-travels-to-the-future fanfic?

Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies by MemoryDragon

Summary: Seven-year-old Tony Stark wakes up on a Hydra base, lost, afraid, and alone. He has to overcome his fears before it's too late for the Avengers and Captain America.

Note: De-aged Tony just screams heavy angst and hurt!

Advanced Protocol by masterlokisev159

Summary: The Incursions are coming. The Illuminati have surrendered and everyone has come together to take one last stand.

Everyone except Tony. And Steve is tired of waiting. He wants answers.

There's something the Illuminati aren't telling him.

Note: If you don’t know what the Avalon is in Marvel, I recommend you search it up, or you could read this fic. You will be heartbroken with what you find.

Flower Child by itsallAvengers

Summary: The point was this, though:

In a hundred million universes, in a hundred million different lives, there would never be a single one of them in which Tony Stark deserved anyone like Steve Rogers. Ever.

So this? Nonsensical.

Note: Another fanfic that highlights child abuse and Tony’s insecurities!

What Pays All Debts by KandiSheek

Summary: No one is supposed to survive the date written on their skin. And yet Tony's numbers keep piling up.

Note: Angst + Death dates? You could probably foretell how much of a gut-wrench journey this is.

Falling Into You by sabrecmc

Summary: Tony and Steve end up as fuck buddies after the events of The Winter Soldier until Steve calls it off. When Loki's spell wipes all of Steve's memories since the last time Loki was in town, Tony decides it will be so much easier to just not tell Steve they had something of a relationship. Spoiler: It isn't.

Or, how Steve fell in love with Tony and forgot about it, and how Tony fell in love with Steve and realized it.

Note: There are just something about amnesia fanfics that makes it so goddamn heartbreaking.

Art Freaks and Comic Geeks by Coil

Summary: Tony Stark had made himself a phenomenally renowned writer. The world had fallen in love with the heroes that appeared in his novels; captivated by his vivid words of life and colour.

His next ambition was to publish a comic book series starring the much-beloved heroes of his novels. There was just one problem. Brilliant as Tony may have been with his words, his skills in the field of drawing were less than great. It didn’t help that he barely knew what his characters ought to look like in the first place.

Enter: Mister Steve Rogers – an up-and-coming artist/illustrator with the potential to be brilliant.

Their paths happen to cross at Comic-Con.

Note: this is a much lighter angsty fanfic but is still angsty. It is a Modern AU mixed with Artist!Steve and Writer!Tony.

Unwritten Endings by XtaticPearl

Summary: Tony takes the bullet meant for Captain America at the end of their war and through his death, brings together the team again. Only, he isn't really dead and when he comes back, the equations between the team-mates begin to alter and reform, writing a new story altogether.

Note: Of course, you can’t have an angst fanfic rec without a fake death fanfic!

WIP

Need Is Just A Word by masterlokisev159

Summary: A month has gone by since the war and Tony has never felt more alone. of course, with the unrest within the government, the disappearance of the Avengers and the obvious lack of Steve Rogers, it was only a matter of time before the UN finally flipped out and decided to act on the last available Avenger. Too bad they didn't realise a promise had been made by Captain America to be there when Iron man needed him.

Note: a gut-wrenching Post CA:CW fanfic where tony is suffering the consequences of the civil war.

Take me out tonight by masterlokisev159

Summary: When Steve gets invited to a formal party with the government, Fury tells him he can bring a plus one of his choosing. While listening quietly in the corner, Tony heaves a sigh of relief because the team could really do with some positive publicity and any of the Avengers are a good choice for Steve. Tony just wants Steve to be happy after all, even if he knows Steve's gonna pick Natasha. He knows Steve doesn't like him and he's aware there's never going to be anything more between them. They're barely even friends really.

So of course he's absolutely shocked when a gold filigree letter rests in his palms two days later. He's the worst person for this.

Why on earth did Steve choose him?

Note: AHHHHHHHH, INSECURE TONY IS JUST A FAVORITE. Also, confident!Steve that knows who he wants is just a whole new mood!

The Soul Stone's Sacrifice by masterlokisev159

The soul stone demands a sacrifice that Tony and Steve are not prepared for, but in the end, one life is sacrificed for the many. Steve lets Tony go for the last time and mourns a future they never had.

That is until Tony comes back.

Note: A scenario where Tony and Steve where the ones to go to Vormir.

#stony #stony fic #stony fic rec #steve and tony #steve and tony fic #stony au #stony angst #superhusbands #stony fics #stony fanfiction

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

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Caged Fae: Halloween

M Fae X F reader, 6,041 words

Enjoy a Halloween festival with your roommate Fae, Yarrow. Have fun taking in the sights of the seasons. This story is a continuation of Caged Fae, which can be found here.

Delicately, you adjusted the mask so that it sat snugly on Yarrow’s face. “What do you think?”

Yarrow blinked out at you, his gaze as steady and unperturbed as ever. “Any opinions?” you pressed. “Yes? No?”

He reached up and delicately unhooked the mask from his face. Delicately, he folded the ribbon, tucked it into the mask, and handed the whole thing back to you. “Is that a no?” you said.

Yarrow smiled enigmatically. He got up and wandered back across the room to the small pile of gourds you had collected. You followed after him.

Come on. You have to give me some hint. I thought this would go well with your antlers,” you said. The mask was made of light wood and molded into the rough shape of a deer’s face. There were deep red and gold markings painted along the eyes and curves of the mask, giving it a striking look. “Don’t you want to go out without hiding your antlers?”

Yarrow turned his head and looked at you for a moment. It had been a few months since you’d rescued him, and he had tagged along with you to the market a few times after glamouring his antlers. His quiet, polite demeanor had earned him a few admirers, mostly the older women who treated him like a beloved nephew. “It’s All Hallow’s Eve,” you prompted gently. “It’s a party. Don’t you want to go out?”

Yarrow patted your hand for a moment, then went back to fiddling with the gourds. You sighed. Fae were mysterious creatures, and when Yarrow was in one of his moods, there was no getting through to him.

Instead, you picked up the mask and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” you called over your shoulder. “Hold down the fort for me.”

There were hurried footsteps behind you. You turned to see Yarrow holding out your coat. He shook it at you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said, slipping into it. Yarrow nodded, then retreated back to the pile of gourds. You slipped out the door and down the path to the town center.

There was a bite of cold to the air as you walked, and the trees had exploded into fiery color. The town was bustling- All Hallow’s Eve was in less than a week and everyone was trying to get the final festival details in order.

“How was the mask?” Mr. Demark asked as you stopped at his stall. His usual trade was carpentry, but around this time of year, he also sold beautiful wooden masks. His wife, who designed and painted most of them, perked up, waiting for your verdict.

You slid the mask across the stall’s table toward them. “Sorry. I don’t think this one is what he wants either.”

“That boy,” Mrs. Demark said, picking up the mask and examining it. “Not easily satisfied, is he?”

You’d taken four masks from the stand so far, an owl, a wolf, a bobcat, and finally the deer. Yarrow had tried each of them on with perfect patience, then taken them back off and handed them to you. “I’m sure he wants something specific,” you said. “I just don’t know what it is.”

“Any luck teaching him to write yet?” Mrs. Demark asked. You shook your head. You were pretty sure Yarrow could read as well as he could understand you, but every time he wrote anything, it was in an odd, swirly script that you couldn’t make sense of at all. You weren’t sure if he wasn’t writing because he refused to write in a human language for some reason or if he physically couldn’t, but the result was the same. It didn’t help that Yarrow never seemed terribly concerned with whether or not you understood him.

“I’d like him to dress up,” you said. “I do want him to be able to enjoy the festival. But he just doesn’t seem to like anything I give him.”

“Want to try another one?” Mr. Demark asked. You glanced over the few masks he still had. There weren’t many left; it was close enough to the holiday itself that most people had secured their costumes.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment, shaking your head. “I don’t want to bring him back something he doesn’t want again.”

“Here.” Mrs. Demark rummaged in her pouch and passed you a few coins. “Your money back. Don’t want you to waste it on something you’re not going to use.”

You tucked the money away. “I’m sorry about Yarrow.” Mrs. Demark waved you off.

“Never mind. Perhaps he just doesn’t like costumes,” she said. You nodded and headed off into the rest of the market.

The more you turned the words over in your mind, the more likely they seemed. Yarrow had been held captive in a circus, after all, where odd costumes were the norm. Perhaps masks brought back bad memories. Your stomach tightened at the thought of it. Maybe it would be uncomfortable to be out at all and he was just trying to be polite and humor you.

You finished up your shopping and hurried home a little after the sun had set. Yarrow was standing outside when you got home, apparently unbothered by the cold, as he was wearing only his usual thin clothes. He straightened when he saw you approaching, looking at you intently.

“Hey,” you said as you walked up to him. “Everything okay?”

Yarrow tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “Sorry I’m late,” you said with a glance at the sky. “I know I said it’d only be an hour, but, you know. Things kind of got away from me. I got you something,” you added, hoping to get Yarrow to stop looking at you with a vaguely disapproving expression. Apparently, he wasn’t easily bribed, because the furrow in his brow just deepened.

You stepped into the house and pulled off your coat. There was already a fire in the stove and stepping into the glow helped drive away the chill that had sunk through your skin. “Here,” you said, passing one of the packages to Yarrow. He turned it over in his hands. “They’re spiced cookies. A specialty from a local bakery.”

He nibbled at one delicately as you unpacked everything else. Yarrow seemed to appreciate heavily spiced foods, you’d noticed, or ones with a strong scent. It had taken you an embarrassingly long time to realize that was because he couldn’t taste anything.

He ate slowly while you put all your things away. Occasionally, he would reach out and turn one of your purchases over in his hand, or run his fingers over a bolt of fabric. You’d purchased several items that were more frivolous than usual- you had more money to spend thanks to Yarrow and the end of fall also signaled the end of traveling merchants. It had been a bit fun to pick up some interesting items for the winter.

“I thought this might be nice for you,” you said, holding out a long bolt of fabric. It was soft, but weighty, and made of a deep forest green. Next to it, you held up a section of white fur. It had been fairly expensive, but you had been almost compelled to buy it. It looked regal, elegant, and it fit with Yarrow’s otherworldly air. He rolled it in his hands, examining the texture of the fur.

“What do you think?” you asked. “I know you don’t technically need a winter coat, but if we go out, it’ll look weird if you’re not wearing one, and I thought it would look nice.”

Yarrow stared down at the fabric, running his fingers over and over it. Finally, he lifted his head and gave you a smile. Relief lightened your chest. “Okay. Good.”

The nights were getting colder and colder. Yarrow seemed entirely unbothered by it, but you had started keeping the fire on at night and dragging out your heavier quilts. Still, it didn’t quite drive away the cold. You still woke up shivering and the quilt was cold when you got into it every night. Yarrow still slept mostly on the floor, rarely even bothering with a pillow.

You had no idea if that was something typical of Fae or if being trapped in a cage had given him odd notions of comfort.

It took a couple of days to pluck up the nerve to ask Yarrow about All Hallow’s Eve. Part of that was just you being uncertain how to approach the content. You didn’t want to accidentally upset him. He’d given no indication that he was traumatized by it, but he also hadn’t given any indication that he wasn’t. It was hard to tell when he didn’t talk and his expressions seemed generally aloof. Trying to pick a way to approach him that was neither too insensitive nor too timid was an awkward space to fit into.

The other problem with talking to Yarrow was that it had become rather difficult to find him.

Pulling a vanishing act in a house that only had three rooms was pretty impressive, but Yarrow managed. He moved soundlessly, aided by the face that he was pretty much always barefoot. Most of the time, you would look up only to find he had completely vanished from the room with no sign of where he’d gone.

If he wasn’t inside, he was usually in the garden. Yarrow never wandered all that far from you. He’d never moved all that far from the house if you were inside, despite not really having a reason to stay. You were grateful for his presence, nonetheless. He was surprisingly good company.

Finding him in the garden could still be a bit of a task, though. With his influence, the garden had grown enormously, with plants sprouting into enormous tangles of leaves and vines. It took time to search the whole thing, and it was really starting to get cold outside. You shivered under an icy wind as you picked your way through the garden. “Yarrow?” you called. “Yarrow, are you out here?”

Something to your left rustled and you turned to see Yarrow emerging from a thicket of berry bushes. They were still green, despite the frost creeping up, but you were pretty sure even Yarrow’s powers weren’t going to last forever. A few of the leaves had already given up and littered the ground beneath them. Yarrow brushed some leaves off his front and looked at you questioningly.

“Oh, here, let me-” You reached up and brushed a leaf from his hair. “There’s one in your antlers. Hold on…” Without thinking, you grabbed the antler and tugged his head down, pulling the offending leaf off from where it had been impaled. Yarrow complied with your tugging, showing not even the slightest hint of resistance as you tugged on his head. The realization of what you were doing struck you and you released him. “Oh. Er. Sorry.” Yarrow straightened back up and looked at you curiously. “Right. Um. Can we talk?”

Asking to talk with Yarrow was mostly just asking if it was okay for you to talk at him, but he nodded and headed back into the house. You followed him inside, hanging up the shawl you’d tossed on before heading outside. Admittedly, it had done very little against the chill.

Something heavy fell onto your shoulder. You looked up as Yarrow tucked a blanket around your shoulders and pushed you toward the fire. “Oh, I’m fine. You don’t need to-” Yarrow tugged your hands insistently. “Okay, okay. I’m sitting.”

You settled in front of the fire, readjusting the blanket so it was more secure on your shoulders. Yarrow sat across from you, the firelight flickering across his features. It cast sharp shadows on his face. “So, All Hallow’s Eve is in a couple of days.” Yarrow nodded. “I just, you know wanted to talk about it.” Yarrow tilted his head patiently, waiting for you to go on. “I just wanted to ask about… how you’re feeling about this? I mean, going out in costumes and everything. I know you were kept for a while in a place where they used costumes a lot, and you seemed uncomfortable when we were trying on all those masks. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That this wasn’t bringing back any bad memories.”

Yarrow stared at you. He tilted his head a little, blinking. “Yes? No?” you said. “It’s okay if you want to stay home. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, then his expression softened. His lips turned up in a small smile and his shoulders shook in a way you recognized- Yarrow was laughing. He reached out and patted your hand. His fingers were warm and strong.

“Is that a no?” you asked. “You’re okay with going out?”

Yarrow got to his feet and patted your head. The gesture was small, but full of so much affection that your throat constricted a little. He was rarely expressive with his feelings, so you were always startled when he was affectionate. Yarrow smiled serenely at you, then strolled back outside. You stared after him. Apparently, the conversation was over. You’d gotten the impression that he wasn’t bothered, at least. Maybe he just wasn’t a fan of masks. If he really didn’t want to go out, you supposed he would find a way to let you know.

You saw Yarrow less frequently in the few days leading up to All Hallow’s Eve. He showed up for mealtimes and sat with you then, but for the rest of the day, he was outside, doing who knew what. For all you knew, this was normal Fae behavior in fall. You kept an eye on him, but he seemed okay, so you didn’t worry too much about it.

The festival for All Hallow’s Eve started in the afternoon, so you spent the morning pulling together your costume. It wasn’t especially interesting- in fact, it was sort of a rehash of the outfit you’d put on the year before. Most costumes were focused on hiding identity rather than trying to actively look like something else. You’d picked up a simple rodent mask, something that looked equally like a squirrel and a mouse, and wore brown robes with a shabby fur ruff around your neck. It was simplistic, but you hadn’t really put that much effort into your costume that year- your initial plan had been to coordinate with Yarrow, and his disinterest had soured your own desire. In fact, the fur ruff was the only difference between this year and the last one. The mask and robe were the same.

You’d just finished gathering the requisite components and spreading them out when Yarrow abruptly reappeared. He didn’t come in from the outside or step out from another room; you just looked down for a moment and when you looked back up, he was standing there as if he’d been present all along. It had startled you the first few times he’d done it, but living with him, you’d gradually acclimated to it.

“What do you think?” you asked, gesturing to the outfit. “I don’t have anything for you, but you can at least keep your antlers out.”

Yarrow looked down at the costume for a moment, studying intently. He plucked at the fur ruff, then curled his lip. “No?” you asked. Yarrow shook his head and grabbed your hand. He tugged on your arm, pulling you along with him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. He pulled you outside and through the garden. It had wilted a lot in the past few days, dried branches sticking out into the path. Yarrow pulled you past them, into a thicket of bushes. They had grown into a sort of bramble wall, providing a secluded area. Carefully draped over the bushes were two beautiful outfits.

One of them was deep green, with heavy, elegant robes. A faint leaf pattern shimmered on it, only visible under direct sunlight. Little pink and yellow flowers sprouted along the hems. You weren’t sure, but you thought they might be alive. Placed on top of the robe was an elegantly carved mask. It was roughly in the shape of a deer, but there appeared to be real flowers sprouting over the surface in a way that colored and textured it. The entire thing looked ethereal.

“Did you make that?” you asked, your voice hushed with awe. Yarrow nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

Yarrow reached for the second outfit and picked up the second mask. It was done in a similar style, also resembling a deer, but it was a little smaller and rounder. The flowers set on it were pale yellow and orange, sprouting so that they created the illusion of shading. The outfit beneath the mask bore similar elegant robes, but these were made in a deep, burnt orange, with faint lines that looks like tree branches stretching out from the seams. A thick ruff of fur lay under them, a deep and rich brown. It was the softest thing you had ever felt.

Yarrow moved so you were facing him and tilted your chin up. Slowly and carefully, he reached out and placed the mask onto your face. There was no attaching string or hooks, but that didn’t seem to matter. It settled perfectly on your face, contoured to your features.

“You made this for me?” Your voice was quiet and there was a slight catch to it. Yarrow gave a small nod. “It’s beautiful.” Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pulled Yarrow into a hug. He stiffened, but only for a second. Then his arms came in around you and he gave a small squeeze back.

“We should, um, get changed,” you said as you broke away from him. You gathered up your outfit and hurried back to the house. Despite never having taken any measurements (at least, not that you’d ever seen), the outfit was perfectly sized. It was also surprisingly warm. Even without the fur ruff, you felt comfortable.

You’d just slid on the mask when Yarrow returned to the house. The outfit had looked beautiful just sitting on the ground; on Yarrow’s body, it was ethereal. With his face half-hidden by the mask, he looked inhuman, but beautifully so.

“Wow,” you said. “You look amazing.” Yarrow’s lips quirked into a small smile. He reached into his pocket and removed a small looking glass that he held up to you.

For a moment, you couldn’t recognize yourself. There must have been some Fae magic in the mask and clothes, because, under the mask, you could see your skin had taken on a slight glow. The mask looked almost alive on your face. You were almost surprised to see that it didn’t mold to your expressions.

“Thank you,” you said. Yarrow smiled broadly, then took your hand. With a firm insistence, he pulled you toward the door.

The chill barely touched you as you stepped out into the crisp autumn afternoon. The sun had already started to slip downward in the sky, threatening to set. Yarrow slowed his pace as you headed toward the festival, but his hand stayed around yours.

The festival was already in full swing when you arrived. There were banners and decorations draped along the streets and booths were set up all throughout the town. Many of them sold food or drink, some sold little trinkets to keep evil spirits away, and some were peddling some of their crafted items, styled specifically for the festival. There were also a few game booths, areas set up for storytelling, and a few contest stands. You peered at some of the woven bolts of fabric that sat in a contest booth. Yarrow gave you a questioning look.

“Oh, I didn’t want to enter because you helped me. It felt unfair to have Fae magic in it,” you said. Yarrow still looked confused. You had a feeling that an ethics conversation with a Fae wouldn’t go well. “Maybe next year,” you said noncommittally.

“Look at you!” Yarrow flinched as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Those are some nice costumes.” Mr. Demark was standing behind you, a broad grin on his face. “Where’d you get those masks? They sure aren’t some of mine.”

“Yarrow made them,” you said.

“Did he now?” Mr. Demark leaned in close. You felt Yarrow’s back stiffen next to you. “It’s impressive. Wouldn’t consider coming to work for me, now would you? You’ve got some talent.”

Yarrow gave a polite smile and bowed slightly. “That a no, then?” Mr. Demark said. “Ah, well. Just don’t go selling them or I’ll be out of business.” He laughed loudly and strolled back off into the festival. Yarrow stared after him for a moment, then started examining the fabric again.

You walked around the festival together for a while. The food there was delectable, and you ended up buying more pumpkin bread than you could comfortably eat. Yarrow declined to eat anything, but he did end up buying some spiced cider. You’d never seen him drunk, and you kept a curious eye on him. After about two and a half mugs, though, he showed no signs of inebriation. Maybe human alcohol just wasn’t potent enough for a Fae. It was a bit disappointing. You’d wondered what he was like drunk.

The sun had set fully at that point, which meant that several campfires had been set up around the town. People sat in loose circles around them, sharing stories. You and Yarrow sat in on a few of them; Yarrow seemed particularly interested in the stories featuring Fae.

“So,” you said as you stepped away from one of the circles close to the edge of town, “any of that true?”

Yarrow shook his head, then paused, considering. He held two fingers a short distance apart. “Only a little bit?” you said. Yarrow nodded. “What bits were true?”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then gave a dramatic hair toss and struck a pose like he was modeling. You dissolved into giggles. “Do you- Do you mean the bit where he said all Fae are really beautiful?” Yarrow nodded furiously, grinning.

“So not the bit where you kidnap babies?” Yarrow shook his head. “Or the bit where you all dance naked in the moonlight to lure humans in?” Even behind his mask, you could see Yarrow’s eyes roll.

You had moved toward the edge of town as you spoke, standing right on the outskirts of the forest. “We should probably get back,” you said. “It’s not-”

Your voice trailed off. There were lights emerging from the gloom of the woods. They looked like overlarge fireflies, except they glowed faintly blue instead of yellow. They left glimmering trails behind them when they moved. It was soothing to watch them, almost hypnotic. You took a step toward them.

Yarrow pulled on your hand, hard. You hadn’t even felt him grab it. You stumbled backward, blinking hard. The hypnotic feeling faded to the back of your head, though you could feel it threatening to rise again. Little lights. Little lights in the forest that compelled people to follow them and then led them astray. “Will-O-the-Wisps,” you said. Yarrow nodded. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Yarrow stepped forward, waving his hand toward the wisps. The coalesced, swarming densely for a moment. Then they vanished back into the forest as suddenly as they’d arrived. You let out a breath. Yarrow stared after them for a moment, then pulled your hand fiercely, pulling you back toward town until you were standing in the warm glow of a fire.

“Are those things common around here?” you asked, just barely keeping a wobble from your voice. “I’ve never seen them.”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then positioned himself so he was standing across from you. Carefully, he drew a line between you in the dirt. “A barrier between us?” you asked. Yarrow made a broad gesture. “Between our worlds?” Yarrow nodded. He gestured at the sky, then at the town around you and scuffed the line away with his foot. “The holiday… makes the barrier vanish?”

Yarrow nodded. A chill crept up your spine. “The veil gets thin. I’ve heard that before,” you said. “Is it dangerous?”

Yarrow shook his head. He clasped your hands in his and you felt a tingle of magic jump through you. His eyes gleamed with inhuman power for a moment. “It makes you stronger too,” you said. Yarrow nodded. He squeezed your hands again. “And you’ll protect me.” Another nod. “Thank you.”

Satisfied with the conversation, Yarrow turned away and began wandering back into town. The festivities were wrapping up in some areas and ramping up in others. Most of the families with children had departed, meaning that certain areas were turning toward debauchery. The stories told were less appropriate for young ears and a few people had stripped, despite the chill. Yarrow looked at them with some interest, but, thankfully, seemed uninterested in joining them.

Several of the fires had gone out and a fire toward the center had been stoked into an enormous blaze. People danced around it while musicians played close to its base. Laughs and whoops of excitement carried across the town.

Yarrow paused and stared across the way at a smaller fire. There were several couples gathered around it. One by one, they stepped forward and held out their clasped hands to a man. He wrapped their hands in a ribbon and murmured words over them, sprinkling a few drops of water from a nearby basin. The couple held their hand over the fire for a moment, just high enough to not get burned, then stepped back with murmurs and bows of thanks.

“That’s a couple ceremony,” you explained. “It’s usually for new couples, for over the winter. There’s an old legend behind it.” Yarrow looked at you curiously. “You want to hear it?” A nod. “Uh, okay.” You sat down on a log next to a fire that was only faintly glowing embers. Yarrow sat with you. He was close enough that your knees were touching.

“Um, I heard this story a long time ago, so it’s not going to be super detailed, but I remember most of it,” you said. “The story goes that there was a couple who lived in a cabin a bit of a ways out of town. They lived far enough away that when the winter snows came, they were unable to get into town.” Your voice dropped into the sort of hushed tones used by storytellers. Yarrow’s eyes were fixed on you face, like he was enraptured. “The couple didn’t think anything of it. They had enough food to outlast the snow, and they had each other, and they thought that would be enough.

“But after a few weeks, with the snow still coming down, an evil spirit was carried in on the cold, northern wind. The spirit lurked in the corners of their home, out of the way of their glowing fires. And slowly, the spirit’s evil intentions crept into the couple.

“Gradually, the couple grew harsher and harsher with each other. They spent much of their time fighting or ignoring each other. And the longer they ignored each other, and the more they fought, the stronger the spirit grew. Soon, the couple was unable to think of anything but their seething hatred for the other. The woman took to sleeping on the floor, in the light of the fire.

“But the fire could not last forever, and the couple was so consumed with their arguing, they ignored the sputtering flames. And the, one night, while the woman slept in its glow, the fire sputtered, leaving her in darkness.

“And the spirit struck.

“Months later, when the snows finally melted, a few people from the town went out to see how the couple was doing. The found the man lying in his bed, his throat slit. Even though it was warm enough to melt the snow, the man was still frozen solid. His wife was never seen again.”

Yarrow had leaned in while you were telling the story. His face was quite close to yours. You leaned back and cleared your throat. “Um. So, that’s the story. The ceremony they’re doing is supposed to drive away evil spirits. It protects you.” Yarrow nodded slowly. His face was expressionless beneath the mask. “So, what do you think? Believe it’s true?”

Yarrow rolled his eyes under the mask and stood up. He offered you a hand, which you took and he tugged you to your feet. He waited a moment for your to straighten your robes, then began pulling you toward the ceremony.

“Woah, hey, hold on.” You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but Yarrow was supernaturally strong. “Are you- you want to participate in the ceremony?” you asked, a little bewildered. Yarrow nodded. “But it’s… for couples. You want to do it with me?”

Yarrow gave you a look and tugged on your hand again. “Okay, okay,” you said. He seemed oddly insistent on it. Maybe he knew something about evil spirits you didn’t? Regardless, it didn’t look like he was just going to give it up anytime soon. You relented and allowed him to pull you over to the ceremony.

Most of the couples had already been blessed, so there wasn’t a long wait before you were called up. The man was wearing a long red and purple robe and he was slightly stooped over with age. He smiled at you as you approached. “Haven’t seen you before,” he said conversationally. “New couple?”

You sputtered a little, but Yarrow just dipped his head and smiled. The man smiled back at you. “Wonderful. Now, I’ll need you to take the masks off for the ceremony.”

You carefully undid your mask and glanced at Yarrow as he did the same. The light of the fire against his skin made something in your chest catch. Your heart fluttered violently against your ribs. With a swallow, you turned back to the man.

“Now, clasp your hands and hold them out.” Yarrow linked your fingers and held your hand you. You felt overly aware of the touch of his fingers on yours.

The man reached out with a length of white ribbon. “This represents your love for each other. It binds you together and holds you fast.” He wrapped it around your hands, tying a loose knot near your thumbs. “The water represents the storms your relationship will weather.” He sprinkled it over your hands. The ribbon shivered a little, but remained wrapped securely around your hands. “The strength of your love will carry you through the tough times. Remember your love, and no spirit can stay your course.” He folded his hands around yours, pressing them together. “I bless you against all evil spirits, I bless you against the forces of hate in this world. This blessing will help to shield you, but only the strength of your care for each other will allow you to weather all the storms.” His hands unfolded from yours and he gave you a smile. Gently, he guided your hands over the fire, just high enough to avoid burning. “With this fire, I drive away the spirits of the cold and dark and hatred. May it burn bright enough to keep you warm throughout the long season.”

With a smooth pull, he freed your hands from the ribbon. It untied in a moment, pulled back into the curve of his fist. Yarrow held onto your hand for a moment longer before slowly untangling your fingers. He gave a small bow to the man and swept away. You murmured a quick thanks, then hurried after him.

He paused, letting you catch up. “You okay?” you asked. Yarrow nodded. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, like he was uncertain if he wanted to put it back on. Without really thinking about it, you linked your arm through his. “Want to go home?”

Yarrow turned his head slightly toward you and smiled. You started down the trail toward your home, arms still linked.

You walked in silence for a little while. “Did you have a good time?” you asked finally. Yarrow blinked at you, like you’d startled him out of thought, then he nodded. He pressed into you for a moment, bumping your sides together. It was warm and affectionate.

“Good. I had a good time too,” you said. You tilted your head back, looking at the mostly full moon. It played off of Yarrow’s hair and antlers, making them almost glow. You had a sudden urge to reach up and stroke his hair, smoothing down the few flyaways. You barely managed to restrain yourself.

You stopped just outside your house, scooping up a few more pieces of firewood to bring inside. Yarrow opened the door, ducking slightly to avoid his antlers scraping on the frame. You carried the wood over the fire and stoked it. The house was still cold, but the costume kept much of it away.

“So,” you said, trying to find something to say, “do you think the ceremony worked?” Yarrow’s face was practically obscured by the shadows, only half-illuminated by moonlight. He looked a little confused. “Uh, for keeping away evil spirits? The hand holding thing?” Yarrow snorted gave you a sarcastic smile. “You don’t think so?”

Yarrow sighed and rolled his eyes. He tapped his chest and pressed a hand to the center of your chest. It took you’re a moment to grasp the meaning. “We don’t need it because you protect me anyway?” you translated. Yarrow smiled and nodded. “Then why were you so insistent on doing the ceremony if it wasn’t going to-”

Yarrow rolled his eyes and pressed his hands to your face. You stumbled to a stop. His thumbs traced your cheekbones for a moment. A shiver crept along your spine. His bright, gleaming eyes were locked on yours. Slowly, one of his hands slipped down to cup your chin. His thumb traced along your lower lip. He was so close, so close you could feel his breath tickling against your face. Warmth was flooding your body and you could feel yourself shaking.

His lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, and so soft, and they molded to yours. Your hands jumped up to the back of his head, tangling in his hair. His mouth opened against yours, your tongue tracing his lower lip for a moment.

After what was either a few moments, or a long, wonderful eternity, you broke apart. You swallowed hard. “You wanted to do it because you love me?”

A smile curved across Yarrow’s mouth. He nodded once.

“Oh.” You felt your heart flutter, your stomach tighten. “I love you too.”

Yarrow helped you stoke the fire and eased you out of your costume. He allowed you to help with his as well. You found yourself tracing your fingers along his smooth skin. He even allowed you to brush out his hair, sitting quiet and contemplative as you smoothed the brush over his head again and again.

Your bed was cold, as usual when you slipped inside. You shivered, tugging the blankets around you. “Ugh.”

There was the sound of movement from across the room. You looked over to see Yarrow standing in the doorway, thin nightclothes draped over his slender body. He swept across the room to your bed.

“Hey,” you said. “Need something?”

Yarrow lifted up the covers and, before you could really process what he was doing, he was snuggled next to you. He was warm, radiating heat like a furnace. You moved closer to him automatically. His legs tangled with yours and you felt his hands settle around you. He made a quiet noise of contentment in his chest.

Finally warm and overwhelmingly content, you buried your face into his chest and hugged him. One of his hands trailed slowly up and down your back, soothing you into sleep.

#exophilia #Fae #Fae boyfriend #monster boyfriend #fairy #Yarrow #halloween #OCxOC #mXf

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow @primusk @itswormtrain @hesbuckcompton-baby If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman.

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard.

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?”

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet.

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.”

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching.

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked.

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned.

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood.

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.”

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to.

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.”

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.”

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do.

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.”

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off.

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie.

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said.

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point.

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?”

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.”

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop.

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.”

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.”

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed.

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were.

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome.

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly.

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,”

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -”

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said.

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside.

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!”

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything.

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said.

“Good night, ma’am, sir.”

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural.

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her.

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.”

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said.

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered.

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck.

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject.

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her.

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.”

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated.

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding.

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze.

“Dick?”

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix.

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.”

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too.

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.”

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.”

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it.

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other.

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…”

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words.

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.”

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it.

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do.

He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock.

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he called.

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.”

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.”

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.”

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain.

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself.

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it.

“I got something for you,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real.

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.”

“And you remembered?” she wondered.

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle.

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.

“You’re welcome,” he returned.

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking.

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?”

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous.

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her.

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.”

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.”

“Take your time,” he said gently.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst.

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.” She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left.

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard.

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.”

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.”

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked.

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic.

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face.

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest.

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.”

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.”

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all.

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.”

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right.

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.”

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

#band of brothers #dick winters #melanie jo davis #richard winters #dick winters x ofc #band of brothers fanfiction #richard winters x ofc #hbo war #Easy Company #dick winters fic #dear heart series

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starcloud-nova · 4 years ago

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Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload Okay, let’s talk HeroCon.

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

#bnha #bnha fic #fic rec #fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #nova talks #all my friends in one post. sniffle #most of em anyway #not sure what to tag this so. ill hit send!#forgot too tag this as an ask rip #anonymous #ask

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