#this post just gave me a black eye . two of my ribs are broken

[defire]

Chapter 27: Clever Lies

Content: post-beating injuries, mention of child abuse, beating, interrogation, minor whumpee, slavery

Kit sat in Caboodle's chair, in Caboodle's room, and eyed his little brother, who sat hugging his knees and staring wide-eyed at the wall like he was being re-traumatized.

"And I don't know why you even had to say that crazy crap about Aunt Wry." Caboodle said. "No one will take us seriously."

"Meanwhile, our father fought in the war." Kit sighed. "Even if we did fight in a war... we'd lose."

Caboodle didn't respond, going back to staring. The black eye on the left bulged with swelling. Kit still wanted to just... bite his father's face off for that. As for himself, he had a cracked rib, and could hardly walk. 

Their father had taken them home, then had beaten the two of them till they couldn't get up off the floor. Then he came back and whipped them with the leather razor strop like he'd promised last time Nife's name came up. No more Druids.

Kit’s back still oozed from broken welts under the bandages their servant had sullenly applied, and every time the wounds broke open, a fresh sting and burn reawakened and made him want to cry out. He had to keep it in for Caboodle’s sake. The poor kid still had tear tracks down his eyes, even though it had been hours since the punishment.

"I mean, you were kind of cool." Caboodle admitted after a long pause, still addressing the wall. "But you gotta be careful what you say when you're wearing that bracelet."

"Are you blaming the bracelet now?"

"Everything happened because you tipped your cup over, then you said that thing, then..." Caboodle stopped, swallowed and glanced at Kit finally.

Like always happened, his little brother's gaze flitted around his various injuries like he could sense them under his clothes.

"Maybe they're just all assholes." Kit said.

“They might be.” Caboodle said softly. “Is Nife… Did you see how she’s doing?”

Kit closed his eyes. The tidbits had been awful–a flash of intense anguish as she faced the wall and something whacked against her back over and over. Nife’s hands bandaging Iridiss’ ripped-up back. Striker’s face, much too close, with a predatory glint in his eyes as he pressed his fingers into a bruise on her neck. She was so… afraid. The bastard.

“It’s… horrifying. It’s way worse than I ever imagined.”

“Wait–what do you mean?” Caboodle looked alarmed.

“They… They beat and torture the slaves…” Kit shuddered, fidgeting with the bracelet. “You don’t want to know.”

Caboodle winced as he rubbed his arm. Glen had targeted it brutally with the leather strop. When he saw Kit’s stormy expression, he put on a smile.

"Here, let me see that." Caboodle snapped his fingers at the bracelet. "I have an idea."

When Kit gave it to him, he slipped it on and closed his eyes.

"I have this really bad feeling, and usually I can't put my finger on it, but maybe this bracelet..." He faded out as he started to concentrate. Kit felt another tremor shake the city and the floor creak as he waited for Caboodle to stop. It was boring. He looked out the window and saw, far away, several towers falling deeper into the rot, sinking toward each other somewhat, and pulling down the nearby buildings, from what he could tell.

"...Oh, no." Caboodle raised his head and looked at Kit. "I think Striker wants to get Nife killed."

"Yeah, that's no big surprise. He thinks she's inciting rebellion."

"No, Kit... He has a plan."

"What plan?" Kit stood up. 

They weren't supposed to leave, but if there was a plan to kill Nife, to hell with that.

"I don't know..." Caboodle said. "I just heard him say 'two birds' and then sort of... felt like he was thinking of Nife. There was a plan. I could feel it."

He shuddered, taking off the bracelet.

"Here." He said, practically throwing it at Kit. "I don't... I don't like how he thinks of her."

"Horizons..." Kit groaned, picking up the bracelet and putting it back on. "We have to do something."

Caboodle shook his head.

"There's literally nothing we can do."

"No–fuck that." Kit hurried to the window and slapped a hand down on the sill, looking out over the dark miasma in the street below. "We'll do something. We can't not do something."

Nife watched as Striker stepped into the small room, maneuvering around Enimee with that signature Bane respect for about three whole feet of personal space. Nife ducked her head behind her arm, using it to shield her ribs, which she worried were broken after all the kicking.

Striker bent forward over her.

"Stand up."

Nife shivered.

"Your lordship, I–"

His kick smashed into her upper arm with terrifying strength. With that one strike, she felt how easy it would be for the man to break every bone in her body.

"Stand–up." Striker twisted a hand into the beads, wrapping them so tightly they choked around Nife's neck, yanked her back, and as she struggled to stand, caught her under the chin with the web of his hand and slammed her back into the plaster wall.

She screamed through her teeth as the impact jostled the injuries in her back. At least she was getting a little support to stand.

"Now you're going to answer every question I ask." Striker said. His calm, almost expressionless face was dark because of the backlight, but Nife could see the heat of his tongue running over his teeth inside his mouth, something he often did when he was calculating what to say, it seemed. "Do you understand me?" He said.

Nife attempted to nod, then choked out,

"Yes, your lordship."

"First. Why did you choose that moment to mouth off to my sister?"

"...Well, it's not like I choose when she decides to be extra stup--"

Striker punched her in the stomach. Nife cursed and grimaced.

"For every question you refuse to answer, I'll punch you again." Striker said.

At that, Nife could see Enimee opening and closing her mouth to object, but she didn't dare. There was not a single member of the household that wasn't afraid of Lord Striker.

"Now answer the question." Striker said.

"I... I don't know." Nife lied, and from the shaking in her voice, she did it well. She couldn't possibly tell Striker how much her friends meant to her. That would just put them in more danger.

Striker didn't move, but with her nightsight, Nife watched his fist slowly unclench, and breathed a little.

"The second question." Striker said. "You Druids can see behind yourselves, can't you?"

Nife froze for a moment, breaking herself of it with a small tremor. She shook her head slowly.

"I've been watching you." Striker said. "You saw me unclench my fist just now, without being able to turn to look. How?"

"I–I didn't." Nife lied again. "I don't know how you Banes can't see as well as we can–maybe we have better eyesight. You can see better in the daytime, though."

"That's commonly known." Striker said. "I'm asking you to tell me how you saw my hand just now."

Nife shook her head, blinking at tears of apprehension as she felt the fingers around her throat tighten a little. Not quite choking, but enough to heighten the pitch of her voice just a touch if she were to speak.

"You'd better not be lying." Striker said.

Nife didn't answer, staring at the ground. There was no kind of defense for this kind of thing. His grip slowly tightened until she couldn’t take a breath. She shook her head, opening her eyes wide with a strangled,

“Not–”

And he loosened his grip so she could breathe.

"...Last question." Striker said, stepping so close their chests touched. Nife was panting, struggling to hold herself up on one leg. "And you'd better have something more than 'I don't know', because we all saw you."

Nife glanced at Enimee, who was standing there with a hand on the handle of her cane. Right, no friends here.

"You pushed Creack's magic back." Striker said.

A weight like a heavy rock dropped into Nife's gut. She couldn't respond to this one satisfactorily, no matter how well she tried to obscure it.

"You stood up in the middle of what should've felt like an outright flogging, judging from the welts you received." Striker said. "Despite all three of them attempting to punish you at once. You counteracted the magic, and Creack can't tell me what happened. So you tell me. How did you do it?"

Nife lifted her chin.

“Guess I’m just that tough.”

Striker let go and slapped her. It had almost become reflexive not to block the blows at this point–blocking only got Nife a full on beating.

"You liar!" Striker said. "I saw the magic on your arm fade and flicker. How!"

Nife widened her eyes and gave Striker a glance in the eyes, then hastily looked back down at the ground, grinding her teeth.

"I..."

Another slap stung across her cheek, sending her staggering sideways. She caught herself on the wall, clenching her fists against a defensive reaction.

"Answer the question, Nife."

Nife wouldn't answer that. It was the fucking key to her escape. She'd take whatever she had to, but she wouldn't answer that question.

She crumpled backward, crouching in the corner, shielding her face with her bruised arm. She said nothing, preparing herself for the beating as Striker walked toward her.

He stared down at her for a full minute as she shuffled around, her protective squat getting tighter and tighter as she tried to get ready for broken bones and agony.

"Enimee," Striker said. "Leave me alone with her."

First chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria @bamber344 per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version, but you can find the canon Dance of Death on Amazon and ao3 (which I'm updating shabbily as fast as I can). Also if you want, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review or comment while you're there.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[daddyyy88]

Hurt | Joseph Quinn x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

Word count: 2.2k

warnings: reader gets mugged, reader is stabbed, being in the hospital, mentions of sedatives, reader tases her attacker, Joe beats the attacker up, ?

idk how to feel about this one I don’t really like it but I’m having like a wee bit of writers block so yea

summary: uhhh?

When Joe rose to fame because of his role in Stranger Things 4, so did you a little. Fans quickly noticed there was a certain ring always on his left ring finger, when the others changed every now and then that one stayed. And you two weren’t very good at hiding the relationship, considering you never had to.

Within a month after the release of Volume 1, Joe had to post a few pictures of the two of you with the caption “surprise 😁”. One was of you on your wedding day, another of you two drunkenly singing karaoke on his birthday, one from behind the scenes of Stranger Things, a picture Jamie got of you two sharing a sweet kiss as you cuddled up on the couch.

A few others as well, but now everyone knew he had married the most beautiful woman in existence and were obsessed. You quickly went from having 12 thousand followers to 5 million in the blink of an eye. You were a pretty skilled nail tech, people traveled to have their nails done by you but you had been doing less work since Joe started traveling and you joined him.

With your new found fame also came threats, mean comments, uncomfortable touches in public, a whole list of things. Of course, Joe would never let anything happen to you and nothing really got to you because you know they are just mindless people who have nothing better to do than bother you.

But, whilst you were walking back to the hotel after meeting up with a friend to do her nails, you felt like someone was following you. You sped up but that did nothing, as you were shoved into the alley a few seconds later. You yelped and whimpered as your pepper spray was knocked out of your hand, the taser you usually carry in your purse which was across from you.

He kicked you and said “give me all your money. I know who you are, and I know you have some” “stop!” You cried as he kept kicking you, punching you when you tried to get up. You gasped and groaned, curling to the side as you clutched your stomach, unable to breathe from the harsh kicks to it.

“Come on, you stupid bitch!” He said and turned you over, slapping you. You grunted, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Stop fighting!” He said and pushed your head against a wall, kicking you in the back so many times you thought it’d break.

You tried screaming for help, but he grabbed you by your hair, lifting you up so you would look at him in the face. You couldn’t breathe, you could barely see, and you felt like your hearing was muffled. “Pl- P- Please, s-sto- ahhhh!” You screamed as he took out a pocket knife and pressed against your ribs, the tip piercing through your skin.

“Give me your fucking money!” He said and you sobbed, trying to reach for your purse. He threw it at you and your shaky, probably somewhat broken hand opened it and reached inside, moaning and groaning because of the pain. You found the wallet and gave him the 300 dollars you had with you, trying so hard to regulate your breathing.

He snatched the money and grabbed your purse, taking out your phone and smashing it. You sobbed, coughing Jo some blood. He scoffed and said “your jewelry. Give me your jewelry too”

You took a few gasps of air, squeezing the button on the taser you snuck out of your bag and taser him in his leg. You got up and were starting to get away when he grabbed your ankle, making you fall and shoved the knife between your ribs, making you black out for a second.

Once you were conscious again, you managed to tase him right in the balls. He screamed, falling to the ground. You used whatever strength you could muster up and sat up, tasing him in his stomach and neck, and crawling out of the alley.

You stumbled back to the hotel, grabbing onto buildings and cars and street lamps, your phone wouldn’t turn on so you couldn’t call anyone. You just wanted to get to the hotel before he got to you again. You felt weak, you knew you were bleeding internally but it didn’t seem to have gotten to your heart so there was that.

You walked into the hotel and everyone stared but you didn’t care, you got in the elevator, shaking like a leaf. Your ankle hurt really bad and one of your heels was broken, so it was even harder to stand. You limped and nearly tripped on your way to the hotel room.

You were digging through your bag trying to find your hotel key, and you found it snapped in half. You broke, falling to the ground as you cried, weakly knocking on the door hoping Joe was there. “Jo-…mmh, oh g-god- Joe!” You said, losing your voice from the screaming and the pain.

He opened the door and gasped, he’d never cried so fast in his life. “Oh my- oh my god…how- oh my god y/n!” He said and you whimpered, spitting up blood. He gasped again and said “I need to get you to a hospital!”

He ran back into the room, grabbing one of your bags that he knew had toiletries and some clothes in it as well as his phone and keys and ran back out. “N-no…no hosp- hos- hospi-ital…” you said and he shook his head.

He got you to sit against the wall and said “y/n, there’s a knife in your chest and you probably have countless internal injuries that are going to kill you I don’t care what you want, I want you to live” He scooped you up, biting his lip when you yelled out from the pain.

“You’re okay, you’re okay…try to breathe sweetheart, please” he said, you were still gasping for air, the stab wound wasn’t helping much either. He got you to the car and didn’t care if blood or anything got on the seat, he’d light this car on fire if it meant you’d be okay.

Everything was hazy from there, he remembers panicking when you passed out, speeding so fast he was sure he was going to get arrested and then getting to the hospital. He remembers the nurses asking your name and what happened but instead he just broke down in sobs.

Eventually they gave him a small dose of a sedative to calm him down and he gave them your name and told them he was your husband and you just showed up to the hotel room like that. He really hoped that they didn’t think he did this to you, god he would never do anything even remotely like this to you.

The sedative made him sleepy and they gave him a blanket and pillow and he fell asleep, even though he didn’t want to. He was woken up by the same nurse, 8 hours later at 5am. “Hi, sir…Joseph, right?” She asked and he cleared his throat, sitting up.

He nodded and she said “your wife is okay. She has some broken ribs, a concussion and the stab did some serious damage so she had surgery to correct it and she should be okay. Her wrist on her dominant hand was injured but not a sprain or a fracture or a break, she’ll just need to refrain from using that hand. She has a sprained ankle which she'll wear a brace provided by the hospital to correct. She’s got some major bruising but she’ll be okay. She needs to give her statement to the cops and give them a description of her attacker but she’s really struggling and her heart rate is really high, we’d like to see if having you there might help”

He nodded, biting his lip as tears filled his eyes. She brought him to the room and you were crying, curled into your side, the monitor beeping fast and the cops trying to calm you down whilst another nurse tried giving you oxygen. “Hey, hey, shhh it’s okay…relax, sweetheart it’s okay” he said as he walked over, pushing past the cops and slowly reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“babe, you’ve got to calm down,” he said, grabbing the oxygen mask from the nurse and putting it over your nose and mouth. He stroked your hair for a few moments, calming you as your body twitched from how bad your anxiety was, and helping you regulate your breathing and form a few clear sentences.

“Who did this to you huh?” He asked, he’d sneakily grabbed the question sheet that the policemen had and set on his lap to look at. “I-I don’t know, Joey…I swear” you said and whimpered, still in a lot of pain. He blinked away a few tears and said “I believe you, y/n…I do. Can you describe what he looks like? Like, hair color, eye color, facial features and stuff?”

You did pretty okay and it was enough for the sketch artist to get a good idea of what to draw. He asked you all the questions and the police wrote the answers down, waiting patiently for you to get through having to relive it in your head.

“You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, y/n, you’re so damn strong” he said and you bit your lip, covering your face with your hand as you sobbed, you felt so scared and so anxious. It took some time, and some sedatives but eventually you calmed down and were about to go to sleep, still trying to fight it for Joe.

“Baby…just close your eyes,” he said and you groaned, his fingers making the motion a few inches away from your face. One was already closed practically, it was swollen and bruised and looked so painful. He sighed and rested his head on the bed, playing with your injury-free hand. You sighed and said “fine…but promise you’ll be here when I wake up”

He wrapped his pinky around yours and kissed his hand, and you weakly brought your hands up and kissed yours. He smiled, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes and quickly falling asleep.

He stroked your palm and up your arm as he said “I’m gonna find who did this to you…and I’m gonna make him pay”

And that he did. A few days later, police found out who he was through security cameras and put a warrant out for his arrest. With some googling and some searching Joe found out his address, and went straight there. He beat him up, worse than what he had done to you before calling the cops and leaving an anonymous tip.

He went home and he said the redness on his knuckles was from hitting his hand on the car door. You believed him. You had no reason not to. The police called some time later and said they had caught him and you broke into tears. He held you as you cried, gentle of your wounds and you sobbed into his chest, all your pain and anxiety and stress spilling out.

“He’s not gonna hurt you anymore…he can’t sweetheart. You’re safe” he said, kissing your head.

Things got better, you went to therapy and your body healed and eventually your mind as well. You stopped working completely for about a year, and Joe was okay with that and supported it. He made enough to support both of you, which was something he’d wanted to do for you since you were teenagers.

All he’s ever wanted was to see you happy. So he works hard so you can stay home where you feel safe, where you can heal. He doesn’t want it any other way. He loves you more than life itself.

But when things got really good you got back into working, and Joe then threw around the idea of you being an actor as well. You did the stupid school, and the plays that made you feel like an idiot just to make him happy, but then you started getting attention from agencies, and directors were reaching out themselves directly to you.

“I told you you were good!” Joe said. You got an agent and did a few small projects and then Joe practically begged on his knees for you to do this movie with him so you did and oh my god people were obsessed. They loved the two of you together, and you two also play a couple in the movie so it was the best of both worlds for the fans.

It was crazy that that one tragic night changed your life in not only a negative way but a positive way too. You never would’ve even considered acting if you hadn’t been looking for a new kind of job. Now you are happier than ever, at the premiere of your biggest project yet with your husband gushing over you to millions of people around the world.

Joseph Quinn, you angel. He was the only reason you were happy right now. You wouldn’t be anywhere without him.

Taglist: @kellysimagines @readsalot73

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Eddissy

Maya Hawke

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Season 16 (Part 1)

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael’s put in motion and have a chance at seeing Dean alive again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, angst, fluff

A/N: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV. This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story bingo!

________

Reader’s POV

You just about had a heart attack when the door opened. It’d been such a long time since it’d been opened. Years and years and years. You’d lost track of the days quickly but it was long enough for you to accept that it’d been a very long time. Long enough to accept that when Michael took over Dean and threw you down in the windowless little room, Dean didn’t win that fight.

The only thing keeping you going aside from the spell Michael had put up to keep you permanently trapped, body stuck in time, was the desire to save Dean. Or what was left of him. You’d been alone for years, body having taken a beating by Michael when he first captured you. You were still covered in bruises, broken ribs that wouldn’t heal, pain in every breath. You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Solitude, cut off from the world, that was your main form of torture. Dean though...who knew what hell he was going through trapped with a psychopath like that for all these years.

You readied yourself, a dark figure walking inside the room. The room was pitch black to a certain point before you were trapped under a bright light you’d yet to figure out how to turn off. The figure stopped as their feet hit the brightness, a pair of brown boots and slim dark jeans all you could make out. They mumbled something and you felt the air shift slightly. You dared to reach at hand out to where the invisible wall keeping you trapped had been.

Your hand waved right on through it and you suddenly felt cool, clean air hit you. The person jolted when you sprang up, running away as you bolted for the door. You followed them up a flight of stairs and straight out into the foyer of a very nice house. You could see it was a man now and tackled him, straddling his hips and grabbing your knife from your waistband of your loose shorts, holding it to his throat. He breathed hard as you stared at him, cocking your head.

He was the spitting image of Dean. Mostly. His eyes weren’t green and there was something about his nose that reminded you of your own. The biggest tell of all though was the genuine fear in his face, the confusion. 

“What’s your name,” you said. You held up the knife for a moment and tucked it away when you saw he was only focused on it. The young man, no more than twenty years old, took a deep breath. You yelped when he threw his legs up and wrapped them around your waist, yanking you off of him. He scrambled to his feet but you were on his tail, grabbing at his jacket. He spun around and popped you in the face, sending you to the floor.

You whined and cupped your cheek, the young man frozen in the doorway with a horrified look on his face.

“Who punches their own mom!” you shouted. He ran out the door and you went after, growling at your bare feet as he took off down the gravel driveway. “I’m gonna find you!”

You stomped your foot on the cool concrete front path, glancing to your right and spotting a sports car. You jogged back inside and found a pair of women’s sneakers, a little too big but you tied them tight and found some keys on a front table. 

About two minutes later you were pulling up beside the guy on the road and hopped out of the car, the man running into the nearby treeline. You pulled out your knife and threw it, catching his jacket and pinning the sleeve to the tree trunk. He stumbled and fell down as you walked over, staring up with wide eyes. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. 

“Can you at least tell me your first name?” you asked. He shook his head and you crossed your arms. “I bet your name is Lyle, isn’t it.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, voice a bit higher than Dean’s but it made you smile, something warm and familiar to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Lyle is my top name for a boy if I ever had one,” you said. “So. Lyle Winchester.”

“That’s not my name,” he said. He stood up and pulled out the knife, carefully holding it out to you.

“You look just like Dean and me. You’re my son...somehow,” you said.

“Fine. My name is Lyle and that’s all I can say about myself,” he said. “I’m serious.”

You recognized the tone, that edge to it, the roughness but laced with an undercurrent of worry. Part of you wanted him to tell you everything about him but you knew he couldn’t, instead letting yourself give him a simple nod.

“I’ll make you a deal Lyle. I won’t ask questions about you that you can’t answer if you tell me how and why you got me out of there and answer anything else I want to know about this little situation.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed.

“Or else someday when you’re a teenager I won’t let you do anything. Lyle.” You took the knife from him and put it away, taking a deep breath. You stepped back out to the road, leaning against the car. You shut your eyes, something heavy draped over you. You peeled one eye open, Lyle leaning back against the car next to you in a blue flannel and dark gray t-shirt. His black hooded jacket was over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around yourself. You squeezed your eyes tight, shuddering before warm arms embraced you, Lyle almost as tall as Dean holding you close to him. “How did you know I was down there?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said.

“What year is it?” you asked.

“2089.” You froze, staring up at him. “Well, 2089 where we are right now is.”

“Lyle. It was 2018 when Michael took me. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t answer that either.” Tears welled up in your eyes and he hugged you again. “Sorry.”

“Dean was thirty nine the last time I saw him and it’s seventy one years later? He is dead. Sam is dead. They’re all dead so explain to me how the fucking hell I have a son with Dean!” you shouted. You pushed him away and ran your hands over your face. “Years. Fucking years I’ve sat down there waiting for him to come and get me. Him or Sam or someone. Fucking seventy one years!”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding a bit awkward but he cleared his throat. “I can’t answer everything because I don’t know everything. But I exist and that should tell you something.”

You wiped off your face with his sleeve and looked around, turning back and staring at him.

“I’m at the start of whatever this is and you’re way down the line,” you said. He nodded with a slight smile.

“I don’t understand it but this, where I’m from, this has already happened to you.”

“You’re from the future then,” you said.

“Not exactly,” he said. 

“A different universe?” He looked at you like you were nuts and the air shifted, Lyle freezing. You turned and saw Jack, a smile on his face. “Jack?”

“Hi Y/N,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a big hug, a little bit of ache inside you easing finally. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just on pause.”

“Jack I don’t understand fucking anything. What’s going on?” you asked. He pursed his lips and sighed.

“Well you already figured out Lyle is your and Dean’s son. I didn’t think I could slip that one past you. But it had to be him that came and saved you.”

“Why?”

“Dean’s in heaven. Has been for 69 years.” You broke away from him feeling like you’d had a punch to gut and making you breathless. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that with the whole decades worth of trauma thing happening right now.”

“Did Michael…” you trailed off.

“No. A piece of rebar on a vamp hunt,” he said.

“He what?” you said.

“Yeah got pushed back on it. Sam was okay though. Oh and Dean had a dog for a few months.”

“Dean fucking died from that? That’s what kept him down?” you said. Jack nodded and you looked down, blinking your eyes. “Disregarding what is going on in my head right now about that, why didn’t you heal him? Or Castiel?”

“Well Cas was in heaven helping me rebuild after he sort of died and I brought him back. I kinda am the new God,” he said with a smile.

“I’m proud of that but again, why didn’t you come down here and heal Dean?”

“I’m sort of hands off in that regard,” he said. You were about to go off on him for that when it hit you.

“Jack how long have you known I was alive,” you said. 

“2020 when I took over, I got these extra-”

“You knew I was alive and  left me in a hole in the ground for over seventy years?” you said. 

“Like I said, I’m hands off,” he said. 

“I was your fucking mom! I took care of you! I protected you! I almost died for you more than once and when you find out I’m still alive you say fuck that bitch, she can deal with it on her own? What the fuck is wrong with you!” you shouted. You slapped him in the face, Jack pouting as you sank down to your knees. “I want Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“I want Dean and Sam.”

“Y/N-”

“I want Dean!”

“I can’t-”

“Fuck you! You’re as every bit as evil as that devil father of yours after all,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, tears prickling in his eyes. “Oh did I hurt your feelings? Tough fucking shit! Do you realize that I have not only been stuck waiting for years but my body got stuck too. I’ve been sitting with broken ribs for seventy years. Every single breath excruciating.”

You yanked up your shirt, deep purple and black skin radiating across most of your abdomen. Jack reached out a hand and you moved back, dropping your shirt.

“I thought you were hands off. I don’t want your-” you said before warmth trickled through you, the pain gone, body feeling so strange at being without it. 

“I don’t have to touch to heal you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bowed his head. “I tried to let people live their lives without my interference and sometimes they’re messy but I’ve come to realize recently that’s wrong. A bit of help here and there is good. It gives people hope and maybe I should have done things different.”

“My family’s dead and I don’t want to wait around decades more to see them again in heaven. You’re going to-”

“No I won’t. Lyle’s life counts on you doing exactly what you’re supposed to as do your two other children’s. I can’t just put you in heaven. You can’t die right and you have to wait to see Dean until things work themselves out. Lyle’s going to be with you for a while and help get some things settled. It’s already set in motion so go with it,” he said.

“Jack I want Dean. Please,” you said. “Please Jack. Just five minutes.”

“Would you rather have your family back in the near future, alive, or would you rather have your and Dean’s souls torn apart and you never see him again, dead or alive? Rather he over there doesn’t exist? Rather no one exists?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course I would rather have them back alive-“

“Then be patient.”

“Jack. You gotta give me something. Something please.”

“I’ll talk to Lyle, tell him he can loosen up some. But I can’t tell you what to do. You have to follow your gut. Listen to Lyle and it’ll work out,” said Jack. You squeezed your eyes shut, Jack carefully resting a hand on your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“I hate that our family was ripped apart. I hate that you didn’t tell the boys I was alive once you knew. I hate that the last time I saw Dean alive we argued. I think what I hate most of all is that you treated us like everyone else. We’re not, Jack. We’re your family. All of us deserved a chance at normal and we didn’t get it.”

“Sam did.”

“How many years did Sam live without us? Without his brother?” you asked. Jack glanced down and you nodded. “You said you became God? Why didn’t you get rid of the monsters altogether Jack. Don’t tell me you don’t have that power.”

“I thought...I thought it was the natural order.”

“Yet you know there are other universes with no monsters at all. You could have taken the monsters away. Shit turn them human for all I care. The boys didn’t have to keep hunting after you took over. You could have been hands off and changed that one fact and saved so many lives, improved so many lives.”

“No. I couldn’t have changed it. Not back then.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked. He pulled his hand away and you found yourself in some clean clothes, Lyle’s jacket folded on top of the car.

“Because when I became God, I learned a lot. It sucks knowing that certain things have to happen and that I had to ignore when Sam prayed to me in that barn because things had to happen this way.”

“But why?”

“Because if I didn’t, if I’d intervened then and there, this universe, all of the ones I’ve been busy rebuilding, the way I’ve been rebuilding heaven...it’d be gone. Destroyed and I wouldn’t be able to put it back. It’s a temporary pain even if it doesn’t seem like it. So please, Y/N, please, listen to Lyle. Work with him. It’ll work out and things can be okay. You can have everything you ever wanted and more. You can have the freaking apple pie life and the no monsters and all of it but please understand you have more shit to go through first and whatever happens, do not let Lyle die.”

“He’s my son. I wouldn’t let that happen to him,” you said. Jack nodded and you grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “You’ve grown up Jackie.”

“I’m still a baby by God standards,” he said.

“The guys take care of you after I was gone?” you asked. 

“Yeah. I missed you though,” he said. “I accidentally killed Mary and sort of lost my soul for a bit. Things got bad for a while.”

“Do you see Kelly in heaven sometimes? Mary?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “Kids can fuck up and your parents will forgive you.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Y/N. If I could snap my fingers to fix it all, stop it from ever happening, I would.”

“I’m going to trust that it had to be this way,” you said. “But give me a ballpark figure here. When do I get the guys back?”

“That’s relative. You’re going to end up breaking the space time continuum so it’s hard to answer that correctly.” You stared at him and he shrugged. “Not too long. A few days at most. I promise.”

“Wait is that how we have a twenty year old son?” you asked.

“Yes. The next time you see Dean he’ll be younger than the last you saw him. Just trust your gut and Lyle. Next time I see you I hope things are much better,” he said. You opened your mouth but he disappeared. You shook your head and turned around, Lyle now wearing his jacket, standing closer to the passenger seat door. For a long while you both simply stared, Lyle looking as if he’d just had his own long conversation with Jack. 

“You can call me Y/N if that makes it easier,” you said. He nodded and you took a deep breath, going to the driver’s side. “So. What’s the next move?”

“Jack just said after I got you out we had to go to Lebanon. He didn’t tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“Any idea where we are?” you asked.

“San Antonio,” he said. “So we go North?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Mind taking the first shift driving? I sort of haven’t slept in like seventy years.”

“No that’s fine,” he said. He walked around the front and you made your way to the passenger side, climbing in and sighing. He got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. “You and dad run a construction business.”

“That’s nice,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Dean’d be real good at that kind of thing. He’s really smart.”

“I know. Most guys can’t call up their dad for help on their architecture homework,” he said. 

“You go to college?” you asked, Lyle nodding. “Do you know about...this stuff?”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not insane. I just got home on a friday night. We had dinner and everyone went outside to have a bonfire in the backyard. I went in to use the bathroom and Uncle Jack stopped me before I could get back outside. He said a lot of crazy stuff I didn’t believe but the fact you were in that basement...you and dad are only like forty but you’re obviously too old right now to have had me when that would have made sense and Uncle Jack said space and time is gonna break and-”

“Lyle,” you said, holding up a hand. “Relax. I just want to know, do you know what hunting is?”

“Dad doesn’t go hunting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. You smiled and nodded to yourself. “We don’t even own a gun.”

“I doubt that. But that must mean that something happens to the monsters along the way too.”

“What do you mean monsters? And why were you kidnapped in a basement? And what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be my mom that runs the family business and you kick ass in your soccer league in the summer and you can’t cook to save your life and that’s okay cause you’re really good at baking and pies and shit and I just don’t understand who you really are.” His face was flush, eyes fighting back tears. You smiled, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“You’re a good guy Lyle. We obviously did something right,” you said, wiping away a stray tear that fell. “It’s scary. It’s really scary. I’m not your mom yet but I will be someday. I promise I will tell you everything you don’t know when I catch up to your time. Dean and I will. But we need to go to Lebanon and the faster we can go there and figure out what we have to do, the faster we can get you back home where you belong.”

“But can’t you-”

“This world isn’t safe, Lyle. It is very unsafe for a Winchester especially. Please drive now,” you said. You put on your seatbelt and he closed his eyes. “Please.”

“I was supposed to be having a smore right now,” he said.

“I know. But saving the world is kinda cool,” you said. 

“I don’t want to save the world. I want to go home and not see my mom be beat to shit. I want my dad to go back to teasing me at dinner and not being dead,” he said. 

“If we do this right, you can go back to that really soon. It hasn’t happened for me yet. We can talk all about this when you come back. The night you come back we can talk through it all. But we have to get going. The sooner we go, the sooner it goes back to normal.”

“It’ll never be normal again.”

“Yes it will. I promise.”

“How do you-“

“Because I just had this really bad thing happen to me but someday I’m going to have you and everything I ever wanted with Dean. So it sucks right now but it’ll be better eventually. I know it will. You’re here so I know it’ll be normal.” He nodded and wiped off his face, starting the car up again.

“Y/N. Are you okay after...you know...being down there beat up all that time?”

“Not really,” you said. He took off his jacket and handed it to you. You stared before he rolled his eyes, laying it over your front.

“Sleep. I can drive.”

“Lyle.”

“Y/N. Rest. It’s safe. I got this.”

“You take after your dad.”

“Take after someone else too,” he said. You smiled and nodded, resting your head on your shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“Egg and-”

“Cheese on a biscuit, two breakfast burritos, extra hot sauce and a small hot latte.”

“At least my road trip order didn’t change,” you said, quickly relaxing and falling asleep for the first time in ages.

_______

A/N: Read part 2 here!

[ohbuckie]

from the mind of bucky barnes;

diary entries & blog posts (bassist!bucky au)

series

TW: abuse, SA, heavy mental health stuff/trauma

❝ It’s no secret that Bucky Barnes’ parents didn’t love him correctly as a child. ❞

❝ That scar on my hip (and that one across my ribs, and that one on my cheekbone, and my top lip, and my forehead) had to come from somewhere, right?

I understood love very simply as a kid: my mom kisses my cheeks before I leave for school because she loves me, my sister hugs me before I step on the bus every morning because she loves me, my dad hits me across my back with his belt when I disobey him because he loves me. He’s looking out for me. He wants the best for me.

I’m supposed to listen to him, and he will react accordingly, because he loves me. When he smacks my mom in the face because dinner isn’t ready when he gets home from work, it’s because he loves her. He just wants to remind her of his expectations so that this doesn’t have to happen again. It’s a necessary evil.

Dad loves us. He would never hurt us—except for the broken nose, and the bruised ribs, and the black eyes. And the humiliation that comes with the question “What happened to you?”

The response, “You should see the other guy,” is only funny a couple of times. It became evident that the “other guy” was fine.

I lost my virginity to an older girl. She was eighteen, I was fifteen. She was experienced, and told me I’d lasted way longer than she expected, and that she almost even finished. She gave me a cigarette from the bottom of her canvas tote bag and told me it was classy to smoke after sex.

Being told you’re good at something after fifteen years of being told you’re good for nothing gets addicting very quickly. We hooked up a few more times, each time in the backseat of her car parked in the poorly-lit parking lot of the Evangelical church.

I slept with many other girls that I went to school with over the next year or two. I dated a couple of them, but nothing was enough to keep me satisfied—not sexually, but emotionally. (It’s not difficult in the slightest to satisfy a teenage boy sexually. All he needs is a firm grip and to close his eyes to think of how you put on your lip gloss).

When I was seventeen, I set up a Tinder account. I had a car, finally, and my parents didn’t ever care where I went, as long as I told them it was a study date. I was free to do whatever I wanted.

I put my age as eighteen, since that was the lowest I could set it, and told everyone that I met up with my real age. They didn’t mind.

I was mature. I was hot. My dick was big. I’d do anything they asked.

I hooked up with a senior in college while I was a senior in high school. She was twenty-two. She wanted to go to a bar, but I couldn’t get in, so we went to her apartment (her apartment!) and had sex on her couch (her couch!).

It was fun. It was cool. I was cool. Somebody wanted me.

I did this when I got bored with the girls my age in the suburbs of New York City. They didn’t know what they were doing. Sometimes that was good—sometimes I needed to be the one in charge, telling them how to bend and to relax, because “it’s really not going to hurt, you’re plenty wet, I promise”—but sometimes, I needed somebody else to be on top. I needed somebody to hold my face in their hands and act like they knew how to take care of me.

I only realized that these women were wrong very recently. Maybe a year ago.

My little sister is seventeen now, and I’m the age that the women I was sleeping with were. I see her friends, and they are children. I want to pinch their cheeks and knit them sweaters and slap “baby on board” bumper stickers onto their cars.

I will never understand why I was taken advantage of, or why everyone acts like I need to be okay with it now. They don’t say it, but I know they think it. I’m not stupid.

Sometimes I think too hard about it, and I shut off. I’m disgusted by my desperate search for love, and by the people that I gave myself to in exchange for a night in a bedroom with a door that had a working lock.

My girlfriend understands when it catches up to me. She understands when I can’t have sex without feeling like I’m suffocating, and she understands when that feeling lasts for days or weeks.

I will not try to make sense of any of this. Not right now. I just hope that it will make sense of itself someday. ❞

[zyettemoon1800]

Yandere Pillar men x reader who doesn't want their baby

A/N: What would happen if the pillar men made their mate have a baby that they didn't want and their mate didn't want anything to do with the baby. Like they won't breastfeed, look, talk, or hold the baby.

WARNING!!!! :Forced pregnancy, slight child neglect , abuse(On wamuu's part), Suicide attempt (santana's part) This is kinda sad and depressing, so I'm sorry in advance. My next few posts will be wholesome

Kars

He will not tolerate any disrespect to his newborn even if you are the mother. During your pregnancy, he tolerated you not wanting to touch your stomach or look at it, but he thought that after the little one was born, you would have changed. oh boy was he wrong.

When he held up the baby for you to look at them and for the new baby to feed on your milk, you closed your eyes and turned your head and body away from the two of them. "You dare turn your body away from me and our child? The life we made together." "You wanted the baby, I didn't." You said as tears stream down your face.

If he was actually kind to you and didn't force you to have a baby, then maybe, just maybe, you would be a little happier about the situation.

As you wish, you could just slip into a deep sleep, he grabbed you with his free hand and turned you to face him. You kept your eyes closed as you didn't want to look at both of them. It was silent and you didn't hear him say or do anything as he put his hand on your head and then everything went black.

He didn't kill, you made you pass out for a little bit while he could let his little one have their milk in peace. He was very disappointed in you, but he knows you will come around sooner or later. Even if he has to make you pass out every time until you understand.

Esidisi

He was in tears when you refuse to hold the life you two created. He tried to put the baby into your arms only for you to move away from him. " Darling... the baby needs their mother." He said as the baby started to cry. "I will not hold that thing. I didn't want it." You said moving further away from him.

This only sent him into a silent rage. He put the wailing infant on the bed and started to walk slowly towards you. He understands maybe you weren't prepared for a baby, but this was the ultimate gift for both of your love. You should be happy that someone like him decided to give you his seed.

As he walked towards you he showed his boiling veins as they leaked a small amount of blood. This was the only way he could get you to do as he said. He wrapped the veins around your arm and raised his temperature, it wasn't hot enough to burn your skin off, but it is going to leave a nasty mark. He told you that you are going to take care and love the baby either you like it or not.

He pulled you back to where the baby laid still crying as he forced you to sit by the baby. He picked up the baby and put them in your arms. You didn't even want to look at the small bundle in your arms. You had a plan to escape from this hell hole, but now there is no way away you are leaving now.

Wamuu

He was heartbroken that you didn't want the baby, but he also understood that you were not totally prepared for one either. However, he expected you to at least warm up to the baby a little bit by now. "Y/n the baby is hungry again." He said holding the whining infant as they made grabby hands at you. "Then I guess YOU should feed them." You said not even glance away from your book. He sighed as he goes to a shelf and grabs a bottle he already had prepared and gave it to the baby.

This can not continue. A baby needs a mother and a father to have a good balance relationship. And he is the only one who is putting his energy into the little. Since they were born, he has done everything, hell, he even named the little one. You haven't touched or held the baby and Wamuu refuses to force you hold the baby because he is scared that you would drop the baby on purpose or something.

He has address his concerns to Kars, who just told him to beat you into submission...but surely he couldn't do that. Not to his beloved mate. Well...he thought he couldn't at least, but that all chanced one day.

He was out training near the house and he left the baby in their crib because he knew even though you didn't want them, you wouldn't harm them in the slightest. That's what he thought anyways...

As he was training, he heard a blood curdling scream from the baby. Thinking the worse had happen, he ran quickly into the house and up the stairs, only to find you sleeping peaceful and the baby on the floor near their crib with a bruise forming on their head. He quickly picked them up and went to Kars so he could give them a check up to make sure nothing was broken or injured.

While Kars was busy while the wailing infant, Wamuu marched back down to the room and roughly woke you up. You could barely understand what he was saying as he yelled and shook you, but what you could understand is that the baby fell from the crib. You rolled your eyes as you tried to stand your ground by telling him that, that had nothing to do with you and if he was really concern for that baby's health, then he would have took them outside with them.

That's when he snapped. He slapped you hard across the face making you fall to the ground, holding your bloody cheek. You tried to get away from him, but he grabbed your foot and dragged you back to him. He then continued to slap and hit you while he degraded you into a bloody mess. After about five minutes, he stopped and lifted you off the ground and onto the bed.

As he was cleaning you off, he told you that if you didn't start caring or at least acting like you far for the life you both have created he would beat you even worse. From that day on, he made you hold and feed the baby while he was around. Kars was proud of him because he was finally acting like an adult, but Wamuu was the least happy about it. He was upset that he went that far on you...but at least he was getting the happy family he wanted right...

Santana

He sighed as he looked at you sitting motionless by a window. That's where you would always be. Every since you both find out that you were going to have a baby. Santana was very excited about because he was going to have something none of the other pillar men had and because he was curious about the baby would look. Would they have his horns or rib bones? Would they be able to understand stuff easily like him? Who's hair or eye color would they have? Some many question filled his mind as he thought about your child.

However you were far from excited. You barely liked him, you weren't ready for a child or anything for that matter. You tried to tell him how you felt about it, but he didn't care. "No...y-you are having a b-baby." He told you as you tried to voice your opinion for the fifth time today.

Your pregnancy was anything but smooth. Santana was trying a please you as much as he could, but you were being very stubborn. Any food that he brought you, you would just put into the trash can as soon as he left. He didn't even catch on to this until he saw how skinny and fragile you were becoming. Not wanting you to be to stressed, he scowled you lightly as he brought you some more food, but this time he fed into you, which was another battle. However as you were getting closer to your due date, it got harder and harder to fight against him...so you didn't. You let him feed you, help you around, and even cuddle you. Santana was very happy. He thought you were finally seeing it his way. Oh but how wrong was he.

As soon as the baby was born you did not want to look or hold them. The only thing you did was put your hands over your ears to try and drown out the cries of the little one. You did this until you passed out. This is when santana let the baby nurse from you. This was the only time the baby could nurse in peace. Many times Santana would have to knock you out so the baby could feed in peace without listening to your high pitch cries.

Even though he could see it, all of this was taken a tole on you mental and physically. One day, as Santana was out hunting you slowly went to the window and sat down by it. It's been so long since you have been outside that you almost for forgot what it look like....what it felt like. You opened the window, feeling the light breeze on your face. You could almost feel the sun on your skin, you wanted to feel it again. You wanted peace and happiness and you were intending to get it. You through your legs over the side of the window along with the rest of your body. As you were falling, you couldn't help but smile as you thought you were finally free. However that thought was short lived as you feel right into the arms of your "mate".

He didn't say anything as he walked you back up stairs as you also stayed silent. If he knew that this was the kind of reaction you were going to have from doing what your body is designed to do, he would have waited til you were fully submissive or at least until you accepted him as he mate.

He didn't hit or yell at you, he just out you in the bed and kissed you on your cheek. You are not the one he fell in love with a year ago. You are only the shell of them, but don't worry. He intends on making things right. He will make sure his family is happy...no matter what.

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 5

Happy Saturday!

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post the last chapter of After The Ceremony, but I just couldn't wait! I am so close to finishing the first chapter of my new fic called You Painted Me Golden which I will be posting later this week maybe even Tuesday. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on this story! I never would have finished without all of your encouragement, and I am so appreciative! This story can also be found on AO3

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Not super explicit, but nsfw just to be safe

Azriel was a wreck of nerves as he stared at the solid wooden door in front of him. Elain was on the other side — his soulmate, his literal soulmate, his other half was only a knock away, and Azriel, who had been in countless battles and performed unspeakably brutal acts without so much as flinching, was scared. He was scared to show her the knowledge the book in his hand held because even though he knew that Elain had feelings for him, what if she didn’t want this?

He took a steadying breath and raised his fist to knock when the door opened. His hazel eyes looked down to find a flustered Elain looking up at him, her brown eyes warm with relief and crackling with desire. The little sigh that escaped nearly broke him.

“Hi,” Az said lamely, but that was all it took for Elain to launch herself at him. Her arms twining around his neck and her legs wrapping around his hips, her sweet smell of jasmine went straight to his head, and he had to prop his hand against the door jam because his knees wobbled and threatened to give out. “Elain.” He groaned and took a deep breath, trying to inhale as much of her scent as he could.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered and pulled back to plant kisses across his face. She stopped long enough to give him a heated yet shy smile, “Thanks for coming back.”

“I’ll always come back, Elain,” Azriel said and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so small it was adorable how easily she fit in his arms, even when he was holding her she wasn’t quite eye-level. “Always.”

She beamed at him, and her smile looked like sunlight streaming through a rain cloud, and suddenly every worry, every hesitation, and every apprehension disappeared. He walked through the door, set her on the closest surface —which happened to be the counter in her kitchenette that was also splattered with flour and filled with baking equipment— at his questioning glance she said, “I was stress baking.”

Azriel released a small chuckle and fully took in her appearance. Flour was sprinkled in her messy hair and her cheeks were flush, she had an almost drunken look on her face as she gazed at him with heavy eyes. She looked absolutely adorable. He loved seeing her rumpled and flustered. And suddenly an image burst into his mind of Elain with a rounded belly breaking bread, and two children — an older male with dark hair, and a younger female honeyed hair— running through the kitchen, and his heart started to ache.

The small smile on her face tugged at his heart.

“Have you seen that? In one of your visions,” Azriel asked and at her confused look he explained. “Us, or you, with children.” The loving, knowing smile on her face was his answer.

Wordlessly, Azriel opened the book from the library and handed it to her. She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and took the book from him. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the words in front of her, and Azriel soaked in every small movement her face made. He was so used to watching her from afar that he relished the opportunity to gaze at her freely. Her face was so naturally expressive it warmed his heart that she didn’t feel the need to guard herself and hide what she was feeling around him, he had noted that she did it with the rest of their family, but not with him.

Slowly Elain lifted her head and her wide eyes connected with Azriel’s. He spent the last 500 years training himself to have an unreadable face at all times, and all that hard word came crumbling down as Elain let out a breathy “oh.” He let her see everything he was feeling: his fear, his anxiety, his limitless and unyielding love. He put it all on his face for her to see.

Elain, more collected than she had the right to be, placed the book beside her and cupped his face in her hands. Azriel stepped between her legs, and his hands gently landed on her hips. He felt the breath leave his lungs as Elain pressed the sweetest kiss on his lips. She pulled back just enough and said, “I love you, Azriel.”

Her heart was threatening to crack her ribs in two. Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else once she saw the openness on his face, her heart almost broke at the tender emotions laid bare on Azriel’s beautiful face. Elain watched, and the shadowsinger was surprisingly easy to read without his walls up — she saw the disbelief, the twinge of uncertainty, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of his fears and self doubt. She supposed she had the rest of her life to do that.

“I love you, Azriel,” Elain repeated herself and brought his face closer to hers. She brushed her lips against his, which were slightly more puckered than usual due to her hands holding his cheeks, and she had to hold her own tears back as she felt his warm tears stream down his face. “And I need you to know that. This soul bond between us, whatever it is, I would love you just as much without it. I love every scar on your body, and I won’t stop loving everything about you until my heart stops beating because it only beats for you.”

She kissed him again. Her fingers cupped his strong jaw, and his grip on her hips was so tight she knew there would be bruises, but she didn’t mind — she loved how strong he was, and she didn’t want him to hold back, ever. Their lips moved together, slow and unrushed yet Elain could feel his emotion with every brush of his tongue. She pulled back and brushed away his tears with her lips. Her hand slid down his neck to rest over his chest, and Elain could feel his heart pounding just as hard as her own.

“Soul mates, huh?” Elain asked with a silly grin. “How would you feel if I said I already guessed that?”

Azriel let out a harsh laugh.

“Did you?”

Elain gave him a playful nod and said, “Yes. Ever since we all sat down to dinner the first night, I just couldn’t get you out of my head, and when you came for me. I was screaming so loudly, so loudly down whatever bond I could find, and you came for me. When I saw you I knew that my prayers had been answered — in more ways than one. That was when I knew you were the only male for me. The only male that I would ever want. The only male I would ever love.”

Azriel’s hand came up and pressed against hers, pushing her hand closer to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. He licked his lips before saying in a broken voice, “This is yours. I tried to ignore it for so long, I hope it wasn’t — I hoped my heart couldn’t belong to someone else because that’s fucking terrifying. And I thought that it made sense in a perfectly twisted way, that I finally found someone I could love and somebody who could love me back, but the only catch was that she had a mate— the cauldron had given hers to someone else,” A small smile formed at his lips. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a damn about what the cauldron said. I’m not very good with my words, but I will show you everyday that I love you. When I bring you coffee in the morning. When I kiss you awake and kiss you to sleep. When I have to beat up Cassian for the stupid things he says,” Elain couldn’t stop the laugh that forced it’s way out. “Just know that whatever I do, I do it with love for you.”

Elain flung herself at Azriel, and this time he was prepared for her. His arms enclosed her in the safest place she had ever known. Azriel lifted her off the counter, without breaking their kiss, and carried her into her room. He only stopped when his shins hit the wood of the bed, and he let out a curse as he took in the tiny cot.

“It was just meant for one. I don’t think my sister thought I would be… entertaining in the bedroom.” Elain explained with a blush. Gods did he love when she blushed.

“Hold on tight, Love.” Azriel said, and Elain knew what was coming next. In the blink of an eye everything was black and she was engulfed in shadow, and a moment later she was back in Azriel’s room. It looked exactly how it did early this morning when she left it. The same fire crackling in the fireplace and the same cozy quilt on the bed. Elain thought it was cute that he slept with the quilt, but she wasn’t sure why.

Azriel tossed her gently on the bed, only to prop his arms on either side of her, and kiss her again. He kissed her as if he were drinking from her, sipping at her lips, as if she was his only source of life. Elain let out a moan as her finger went to his hair. She loved his hair. He kissed her, and with every kiss they leaned a little farther back on the bed until he was crushing her with his weight. She loved how heavy he was on top of her; it made her feel safe. Elain brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, and she shifted her legs forward in a deliberate move, and this time they both let out a groan at the friction.

Scarred hands fisted in her dress, and Azriel pulled away to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” Elain said breathlessly. “Just don’t rip it. It’s hard to find dresses that match your siphons.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel said with a surprisingly gentle kiss, and removed her dress with such delicacy it was borderline reverent, and in no time she was naked beneath him.“And I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives. Morning,” Azriel pressed his lips to her lips. “Noon,” He kissed her bare stomach. “And night.” He pressed a kiss to her hot center.

All of his desperation seemed to have melted away and he licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, as if she was something to be savored and enjoyed. Elain wished she had his serenity, but her fire was burning hotter than ever, and Azriel’s tongue was the only thing that could soothe her. She gripped his hair a little too harshly and ground against her face in a lewdness she had never experienced before.

The growl that came from Azriels throat vibrated in all the right places that she couldn’t stop herself from coming all over his face. She rode out her orgasm, until the fog lifted from her mind, and when she opened her eyes she saw his molten eyes gazing at her as he licked her center. His wings fluttered ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Elain said with a sudden wave of doubt. “Was- was that ok?”

He grinned at her in a way that promised pleasure and said, “That was more than ok,” He crawled up the bed to her until he was right above her. “I think hearing you scream as you come on my tongue is my new favorite sound.”

Elain’s face heated and she gently pushed his shoulder.

“Do you think someone heard?” Elain whispered and Azriel threw his head back with a laugh. A wild and free sound that resonated deep in Elain’s soul. He didn’t think he had ever laughed when he was in bed with a woman before, but he found he loved it.

“I hope they did.” Azriel said with a self-satisfied smile, and laughed even harder at Elain’s horrified expression. He didn’t stop himself from kissing her nose. He would never stop himself from kissing her ever again.

“Az!” Elain whisper-yelled, and Azriel couldn’t help but adore her more.

“Promise me something,” Azriel said. His hand found hers, and he wrapped their fingers together before brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. “Promise me that you will never hold back. Never suppress your sighs, moans, or screams — even if you’re screaming at me for something I did wrong,” The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Elain’s heart. “Never feel embarrassed when you feel anything, especially when you feel pleasure.” The vulnerability melted away into something smoother and headier that caused Elain’s skin to heat and prickle.

“I promise.”

Azriel shifted just a little and Elain felt the blunt edge of him at her entrance, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan came from her throat. He brought their entwined hands up over her head, and the other placed itself at her hip. Elain would have sworn that her blood was boiling wherever he touched her.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and Elain was too muddled from her lust to form words, so she gave him the barest of nods. His lips captured hers is a slow, lazy kiss, and if Elain were capable of thinking she would have been irritated by how collected he was. She felt more impatient than she had in her entire life, and true to her promise she didn’t hold back, she lifted her hips and let out a sharp breath at the feel of him inside of her.

Elain’s eyes had opened just in time to see Azriel’s roll back into his head.

“Fuck.” Azriel let out a jagged breath. He held himself still, Azriel knew how large he was and that Elain needed to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of her soft, velvety heat clenching around him — coupled with an ungodly amount of restraint — caused his body to tremble. He waited until he felt her relax around him before pressing deeper into her, and after a small eternity she accepted all of him.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. He waited to hear Elain’s incoherent mumbling before speaking again. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be.”

The brown eyes that gazed up at him somehow turned incredibly clear.

“I’ll take whatever you give,” Elain said with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to hold back either.”

She had shattered his self control — completely annihilated it and smashed it to smithereens. He heard him promise her that the next time would be better, but his hips were already snapping into hers, and then their lips were seering each other's skin, and the smell of their arousal and sweat perfumed the room.

Neither of them cared that the bedframe was hitting the wall at an alarming rate, and that if their family didn’t know what was happening, then they certainly did now.

The only thing the lovers cared about was each other.

Azriel had never left so drained, yet so light, after making love. Actually, Azriel thought, this was probably the first time he had ever made love before.

Soon after Azriel found his release he gracelessly flopped onto Elain. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, or pull himself out of her body, but he needed to feel her. Feeling her skin against his reminded Azriel that it was real — that what had happened between them, something he had never even let himself dare to hope, was real and that no one would take it from him.

“Azriel?” Elain said, her voice thick with sleepy pleasure. This time it was Azriel’s turn to form some type of disjointed reply of random sounds, which caused a sense of giddiness to flood Elain. She had done that to the shadowsinger. She made him feel so good that he couldn’t form words. “I think we should do that as often as possible,” She suggested and was pleased when she felt him nod. His head was tucked into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her neck. “I think I want us to make love in a meadow. I found this beautiful clearing a couple months ago, it’s so secluded, it would be the perfect spot. I want to see how your skin looks in the sunlight, fully exposed. All of your skin.”

Azriel could tell that she was slightly embarrassed by her request, and his heart thrummed excitedly with the knowledge that she felt safe and comfortable enough to share that with him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that. He peered up at her and said, “As you wish, my love.”

Eventually, their frantic love making turned into lazy melding of their bodies and souls. All day and night they planted hot kisses on each other, their bodies easily finding a perfect pace every time they made love, and they stopped only when they felt the need to sleep, but whoever woke up first would wake the other in the most delightful way.

Nobody dared disturb them. Not even to bring them food.

As the dawn broke the next morning Elain and Azriel came to an unspoken agreement that it was finally time to face their family and return to reality, no matter how much they wished they could stay in their own world they created. When they finally tore themselves away from each other long enough to put some clothes on and go downstairs, they realized how hungry they were. Not two seconds after smelling the freshly cooked bacon did Elains stomach growl, in a very unladylike way, and notify everyone in the dining room of their presence.

Everything looked almost the same as it did the day before, except this time Mor was sitting at the table with an absurd amount of food piled on her plate, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

Mor was looking at the pair with a knowing grin, and Cassian’s wolfish smile was almost enough to ruin the bliss that Elain and Azriel felt. Almost, but not quite. Feyre and Nesta looked almost as happy as Elain felt, and both Az and Elain were surprised at the happiness on Rhysand’s face.

“Good morning.” Elain said tentatively. She noted that they didn’t bother to wait for them to eat. Azriel didn’t say anything, but he followed Elain to the buffet table and held two plates that she filled with bacon, ham, eggs, bread, and potatoes. It was more food than Az had ever seen Elain eat at once, and a blush coated her cheeks at his raised everbrow. It was obvious to everyone in the room how Elain had worked up such an appetite.

They remained silent as they sat in the two open seats at the table, ignoring how everyone watched their movements. Azriel smiled fondly as he watched Elain prepared their coffee.

“Took my advice, huh?” Cassian broke the silence, which caused a flurry of events. Mor, Feyre, and Nesta all scolded him — Mor even smacked him on the head. Amren gave an amused smile, and Rhysand rolled his eyes affectionately, but his smile turned wolfish as well.

“Do you know?” Elain asked, fighting off any embarrassment she might have felt. She didn’t love the idea of her family knowing all of the sensual details, but she knew she did nothing wrong. Maybe someday she would feel more comfortable discussing her sex life, but right now she wanted to keep it between her and Azriel. “About the bond?”

They all nodded their heads.

“And you're happy about it?” Elain asked the group, but it was really directed towards Rhysand.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rhysand said with an annoying grin. “A bond created by the Mother certainly trumps a mating bond, and now that there is no cause for a Blood Duel there’s no real chance of you guys starting the next war,” The High Lord stopped and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

Elain reached under the table to grab Azriel’s hand to give it a squeeze. All of her worries were quickly vanishing except one. She turned to Feyre to ask, “Is Lucien still here?”

Feyre looked at her with surprise in her blue eyes, and Elain knew why; She never once sought out Lucien before, but Elain had hoped to catch him before he left. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

“He’s packing now,” Feyre explained. “At some point yesterday after you left breakfast Lucien tried to feel you through the bond, but the bond wasn’t there,” Her eyes went back and forth between her sister and the spymaster. “We connected the dots after Mor told us what happened.”

“I’d like to speak with him before he leaves.” Elain said, and that was the end of that. They all went back to their breakfasts and simply enjoyed the food and each other's company, and they tolerated Cassian’s crude jokes.

It was an hour after they had finished breakfast that Lucien was ready to travel home to the human lands. Feyre, Rhysand, Elain, and Azriel waited in the parlor to see him off. Lucien shook hands with Rhysand and said a quick goodbye before turning to Feyre to give her a warm hug. When Lucien finally turned towards Elain, who was tucked into Azriel’s side, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he saw the bond between them. For whatever reason he hadn’t noticed the bond between them yesterday, and it was only now that he saw the silver-blue river flowing between them. Elain would have loved to see it again.

“I hope you travel safely,” Elain said with a kind smile. “And I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Lucien tipped his head towards her and said, “I hope you are happy,” He turned towards Azriel and almost all of the warmth in his face had faded. Their relationship was still impersonal and cold, but they had hundreds of years to fix that. “Treat her well.” Was all the goodbye that Azriel got, and the shadowsinger’s response was only a narrowing of his eyes.

“Oh, Lucien!” Elain remembered right before Lucien went on his way. A big smile formed on her face as she said, “Vassa loves orange carnations. Especially ones from the field where you walk.”

Elain was delighted by the blush that appeared on his face, and the stutter that he had as he tried to figure out how she knew. It took a second before everything clicked into place and he realized that she had seen it. Lucien gave a warm thank you before leaving.

“Playing matchmaker?” Feyre asked with a bright smile.

“The world could use more love.” Elain responded before beaming up at Azriel, and she saw him gazing down at her with pure adoration and unadulterated affection. Love churned in his hazel eyes.

“I agree.” Azriel muttered and pulled her into a kiss.

They were finally free to kiss as much as they wanted, and Azriel was going to make every kiss count.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For BTHB... wound that would not heal with a supervillian? (Not the one from drowning. That poor guy has suffered enough). And maybe a hero or civilian caretaker?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Hmmmm I disagree about that. I actually want to post Part 11 of Drowning, but I am trying to finish requests first. Comfort is my favorite part, so I want to write him out of torture sooo bad.

Anyways, thank you for the ask and because you asked for a hero or a civilian caretaker, you get both.

One Month

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: fainting, death mention, painful wound cleaning, jealousy

~

Supervillain walked stiffly out of the grocery store, clutching at his plastic bag. Every movement, every step, sent a wave of pain through his body and to his head where it condensed. He groaned, trying to ignore his splitting headache.

"Hey Supervillain!"

Supervillain stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. He recognized that voice and really did not want to have to deal with it right now.

"Supervillain?" The voice spoke again, closer this time, but still oddly far away. Not that it was in his vicinity either- very distant and probably an hallucination. Or, he thought that until a hand clasped his shoulder.

Supervillain jumped, turning around sharply and nearly falling over. In his face was a very concerned Hero.

"Hey bro, you good?" Hero asked, his lips upturned in a genuinely worried smile.

"Yeah, yeah fine," Supervillain replied, adjusting his feet so he wouldn't sway- not that it helped. "Just scared me," he said, ducking his head and proceeding to walk away.

But Hero's hand stopped him. "I wanted to say thank you," he said. "For saving my girl. You didn't have to."

Supervillain was taken aback. Yes, about a month ago he saved Hero's girlfriend from another villain by taking a bullet. It penetrated his back and never exactly healed.

"Just a professional courtesy," Supervillain shrugged. "And anyway I may need her to, you know, kidnap her and use her to get info out of you."

Gosh, why wasn't he thinking straight? He shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have said that.

Hero face fell, but into an expression of joking. He lightly punched Supervillain's biceps.

Supervillain swayed, completely thrown off balance as a rushing feeling ran through his head. Gosh, he needed to sit down, but definitely not in front of Hero.

"Bro, come on. I know that wasn't the real reason. You don't need to play tough guy. C'mere." Hero pulled Supervillain into a classic bro hug, patting his back roughly- not that a supervillain couldn't take a little pounding.

But it made Supervillain feel sick, oh so sick. He fell forward into the embrace, put used a good portion of his limited energy to pull himself back up.

"You good man? You look pale," Hero inquired, stepping back from Supervillain.

Supervillain nearly threw up from the dizziness and lack of support. No, bud, get a hold of yourself.

Supervillain walked three steps before he keeled forward, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

《~~》

"He's waking up," Hero said, as he supported Supervillain in the tub. Civilian looked up from her delicate work of bathing and frowned.

"Well now he's gonna feel all of his," she monotoned, as she spooned water into the gaping, pussy wound on his back.

Hero mumbled something in reply and draped Supervillain's still-limp upper body over the side of the tub, stood up and stretched. "I'll go get him something," he said and walked away, leaving his girlfriend with the supervillain who was slowly regaining consciousness.

Civilian examined the wound, shuddering as she realized that she would have had that wound in her head. But of course, she wouldn't feel feeling the pain of it for she would be six feet in the ground.

The wound was literally crocheted with pieces of thin sewing thread. Pieces of black string stuck in and out of it, some seemed to be ingrown. The pain would be astronomical, granted Supervillain was able to stay awake for the procedure.

Hero returned with two white pills. He guided them into Supervillain's loosely dangling mouth, tilted his head back, and dumped some water. The supervillain seemed to ignore the next step, but eventually swallowed due to the nagging instinctual urge.

"Ibuprofen won't cut it," Civilian pointed out. "I need tweezers."

"They're the only thing we have." Hero gave Civilian a pair of tweezers. She twirled them between her fingers before angling them to the wound.

"Of course since I used all the good stuff on you," Civilian growled, eyes piercing and eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated. She pinched one of the threads and pulled. It was short, but frayed, signaling that the rest was still imbedded in.

The next one gave some resistance. Supervillain groaned, moving around in the tub, arms aimlessly flopping around.

"Hold his shoulders still," Civilian ordered, gaze remaining steady on her work. "The bullet shattered a couple ribs and possibly cracked a vertebrae." She squinted looking closer, "A bit of the bullet is still in there."

"Can you remove it?" Hero asked, positioning himself to pin Supervillain's upper body. The injured man whimpered and writhed, silently sobbing.

"Of course I can. I did surgery on your collarbone before remember?"

"Duh," Hero replied, shaking his head at the agonizing memory.

Civilian worked on the wound as Supervillain screamed and begged for it to stop. It took five hours to remove each and every thread, the deeply imbedded bullet, and to make sure the broken ribs weren't doing any damage to the rest of his body. They weren't, thankfully.

"Okay," Civilian sighed, wrapping the injury in gauze and bandages. "Bring him to my bed."

Hero pulled Supervillain's body out of the tub and laid him on the floor. Next, they both wrapped their ward in a thick bathrobe.

"Okay," Civilian sighed rubbing her eyes. Hero wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned his head on her's, kissing it gently.

Supervillain was asleep on Civilian's bed, all sprawled out on his stomach. He clutched the blankets every once in a while, breath hitching.

Hero slept on a nearby armchair, out immediately. Civilian took longer to fall asleep, watching Hero and Supervillain as they drooled.

Eventually, she also fell asleep, soothed by the raspy breaths of her boyfriend and newfound patient.

《~~》

Supervillain came to very slowly, dozing off here and there. Or he thought he did. He realized something wasn't right and his brain was not functioning correctly.

He started to vaguely come aware of his surroundings- the porridge in his mouth, the soft whispers, the cooling ointment on his back- until they all filled into one big painting.

He was being cared for and all that waited was to open his eyes to see who.

So one day, he mustered the will to pry his leaden eyelids open and look around. A girl's face was hovering disgustingly close to his, so close that her warm breath brushed against his cheek.

"Hey buddy," she whispered, rubbing her hand at his hair. "Finally decided to wake up, huh?"

Supervillain stiffly nodded, fingers tapping against the bed.

"What happened?" He asked.

"We saved you," Hero grumbled. Supervillain turned to see the ragged and angry looking man reclining on an armchair.

"Oh," Supervillain whispered.

"You were suffering that wound for weeks," Civilian hummed. "It's a miracle you aren't dead."

"Yeah," Supervillain breathed, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. They dropped just as Civilian walked out of the room.

"You are going to pay for taking Civilian away from me," Hero growled just as sleep consumed Supervillain.

[bastillewolf]

Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

Tag list currently closed.

Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

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[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[heresathreebee]

Old Stomping Ground

[Ava Starr X Female Reader]

Summary: One of the good things to come out of constant alien invasions are the abandoned ruins of New York, and you’re fixing to show Ava your favorite place. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 13+ | can be reader gender and race neutral reader but is written with woc readers in mind, no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp, Ava and reader on an adventure in post Avenger's New York, homelessness, alien trees and the power of community.

AN: no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. No beta, we die like men. Just you and Ava having a short adventure.

You took three days off of work for this one. Packed two backpacks with food, water, clothes, and other supplies. Bedrolls and bug spray and hiking poles. Ava laughed at your enthusiasm but she seemed to vibrate with excitement right along with you. 

"Can you at least tell me where we're going," she pleaded. 

You ran through the end of the checklist for the third time, trying to be extra careful now that you wouldn't be hoofing it solo. You dodged the question expertly with a "it's not far and it's not dangerous so hush! Learn to enjoy the mystery, babe." 

Ava rolled her eyes playfully but stopped asking and let you finish. After that you ate a hearty breakfast and began your journey north by northwest. In the taxi, your girlfriend's eyes darted from building to building as you turned on every street and you mentally gave up on scolding her. She was too pragmatic to allow for that level of trust yet. 

You were surprised that it took her until you passed the ruins of the daycare you once attended that she whipped her head around to whisper, "is this… Leviathan alley?" 

You shush her but can't keep the excited grin from your face. "It's a bit more than just an alley." 

Once SHIELD was finished stripping for parts and gutting the cybernetically enhanced alien creature left behind in the Battle of New York, the rest was abandoned. The city's been planning to clean up and rebuild but there are scores in the earth where the leviathan crashed and crumbling, precarious buildings that need to be brought down first in the safest way possible. While the city’s been debating how to deal with the destruction, the poor and destitute had moved in and discovered the blood of the chitauri has some very interesting properties. 

"It's like it changes the property of concrete," you explained, climbing over rubble and reaching back to pull her up, "uhg– breaks it down into some kind of hyper fertilizer. There's this copse of trees growing where we think the stomach was and I think in its natural habitat, the creature was probably an omnivore of sorts and may have swallowed thousands of seeds–" 

"That's all very fascinating dear, could you please take this?" Ava shoves a canteen into your hands and cups your hands to bring it closer to your mouth. You've climbed for what feels like miles and hey, you are pretty parched. "Think we'd better rest and eat, maybe look for a safe place to set up camp and… oh, look over there!" 

Ava's sudden whisper makes you turn. It's green in that direction, though this 'alley' is shrouded in darkness due to the dome made from the spine and ribs of the leviathan, the sprigs seem to grow just fine, becoming taller as they moved farther away from you until they began to develop woody stalks and trunks. 

"That's the forest you were talking about," Ava whispered in awe. “I wanna get a closer look.” 

You gently caught her arm. “Camp first, eat. It’ll still be here tomorrow.” 

~ 

Ava didn’t expect you to take her into an encampment. There were two dozen people in tents, an open grill going and laughter. They seemed to recognize you. It was mostly older adults, a few elderly people wrapped in thick blankets and teens walking around asking anyone needed drinks. You grabbed the blanket from your pack and wrapped Ava in it as soon as she found a seat on a slab of concrete. 

"Comfy?" 

Ava smiled up at you, taking the proffered fruit slice from you. "Very." 

She examined the strange fruit. It had a thin violet skin with a spongy white inner layer and pink juice with black seeds  dripping from it. She leabed over your shoulder get a look at the fruit as a whole, and it seemed the pink goop was loose inside the fruit similar to a coconut. 

"Are these from the trees," she asked. 

"Yeah, they're edible don't worry. No side effects we've seen," you assure. 

Ava nods but as she's licking the tangy pink juice you continue, "well except for Nadia but she's a mutant." 

Ava flicks worried green eyes at you and slowly takes the fruit from her mouth. She's already swallowed on reflex so there's no turning back now, only managing whatever weird things would come next. 

"Uh… what do you mean by that?" 

You blink at Ava. "Oh it's not, like, bad or anything. Right, Nadia?" 

A dark skinned girl in an orange beanie looked up from her phone. "What?" 

"Tauri makes you, what, gassy?" 

The man on the grill threw his head back in a laugh and Nadia kicked a rock at you. "Ha hah, you're everybody's favorite clown in the circus. It doesn't make me gassy, you jerk, it makes me smell like roses actually." 

"Oh," Ava said, "that's all?" 

You and Nadia shared a knowing look. "It's strong. Not overpowering but strong like you've got your nose buried in a whole bouquet of them." 

"And your fingers tingle and you make sparkles– " 

"Nadia I think that's just you, baby!" 

People laughed and the conversation died down. Ava let the slip of tauri fruit linger in her grasp until you gently pried it out and ate it yourself. You were side eyeing her but kept your question to yourself and eventually Ava was able to relax. She fell asleep during Nadia's uncle Rodney's story with her head on your shoulder and dreamed of violet things. Violet dresses, violet paint, violet fires, and violet sprigs. 

All you could dream of was the smell of roses so close and so thick you could touch it. 

~

The walk through the natural path as the trees got thicker finally prompted Ava to ask the question that's been plaguing her. "How do you know them? Are they family?" 

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and slowed your pace to match hers as your fingers tapped the straps of your backpack nervously. "Sort of. They were family when I had no home to go to. Then I got a job with enough money and a stupid good deal on my apartment because I had no priors. 

"Rodney and Jules and some of the others prefer it out here with the forest. Some of them have nowhere else to go or no way to take care of themselves. Nadia's been kicked out of every home she's ever been to, but she won't go to that gifted school for mutants in Westchester county. Can't say I blame her either." 

"School for mutants, eh," Ava said as she trudged on, "interesting." 

You walked along in silence, drinking in the inviting quiet of the forest and the tiny chirps and peeps of its new inhabitants. You'd almost say it would be a shame to tear this place down knowing it's a new natural habitat, but you know New York had a hundred bigger and more pressing issues to deal with right now. As long as any capitalist moguls kept their eyes elsewhere, the new jungle should be fine. 

As the forest becomes denser, you have to pull a rechargeable flashlight out to see the ground beneath you. Black bugs crawl under and over the brush and fallen twigs, and something no bigger than a cat scuttles away out of the path of the light. Ava puts a hand on your arm and you open your mouth to assure her you'd protect her, but as you look at her you realize she's ready to protect you. Arm poised out and eyes darting around for signs of sudden movement from the brush. 

You walk in silence for what feels like an fantastic eternity but when you look at the canopy you stop yourself. Ava looks up to, gently taking a hold of your hand to keep you close and it sends tingles up your arm. She rarely reaches for you but she seems to be growing more and more confident of it. 

Light dances beyond the thicket of the leaves. Green and gold flashes as a soft breeze creates gaps beyond the chitauri rib ceiling and every time a light flashes you feel warmth on your skin like soft little kisses. 

Something wooden creaks, and that creaking quickly turns to snapping. You unconsciously squeeze Ava's fingers as you spot a black tree trunk beginning to fall towards you. Suddenly, Ava's arms are around you and she pulls you down into a duck. 

Everything happens so fast it blinds you. You can't see, can only feel as shivers of warmth and cold jitter through your entire being, drowning you into sensations you've never felt before. It makes you feel fear more than anything. Is this how you die? Cowering? 

When the sounds of falling trees stop, there is only the wind and the rush of Ava's windbreaker against yours. You test your fingers to see if they still work and dig them into her back. Nothing broken, you're still standing if gravity is correct. 

She finally lets you lift your head from her embrace and survey the scene. That tree opened a spot in the canopy for more natural light to pour in which is good because your flashlight was lost among the thick bramble bushes. 

Ava brushes your forehead. "Are you OK?" 

It must be a trick of the light but she looks like she's shimmering. Perhaps you hit your head or something but it seems like you never fell. Your standing just beside the fallen tree but you could have sworn you'd almost felt it go through you. And then…

And then there was the smell of roses. 

"I'm fine," you say at last. "Let's get back, probably shouldn't have come here by ourselves anyways…" 

Ava gives you a look, it almost looks like trepidation. You steel your resolve and press on to retrace your steps, knowing you had a lot of walking to do before you would exit the treeline. 

Ava has powers and you're ok with that. You'll just let her tell you in her own time. 

[bethansfandoms]

What about a one where it's wolfstar in hospital but it's Sirius in hospital not Remus?

love it. two posts in two days? online class is really getting boring...

“fucking foul!”

remus looked up from his book, “merlin, peter, you have quite a mouth on you when it comes to quidditch huh?”

peter smiled lightly, “you know, if you actually watched this game i’m sure you’d enjoy it. if james and sirius found out you were reading during the quidditch cup final, they’d kill you. mckinnon too.”

“we have our charms NEWT in two weeks. i’m studying.”

“come on, remus,” lily joined in, “watch the game.” she leaned in close to speak into his ear, “our boys look good in quidditch uniforms, right?”

remus grinned, “knew you had an ulterior motive for watching this game.” he put his book away nonetheless. this game was important to his friends, ergo, it was important to him too. and sirius did look good in a quidditch uniform.

his hair was in a bun which remus loved because he never put it up like that outside the quidditch pitch. his eyes were focused, remus could tell even from a distance; his beaters bat was clutched firmly in his left hand.

“and slytherin seeker regulus black seems to have spotted the snitch!”

an intake of breath rung out upon the commentary and cheers could be heard from the slytherin side.

“regulus black swerves out of the way of a bludger!” the crowd reacted again. “and he’s lost sight of the snitch! an excellent hit from beater sirius black!”

remus grinned, maybe quidditch could be fun. the look on sirius’ face was amazing. james swooped up towards him and clapped him on the shoulder, no doubt shouting praise.

the game continued, with more aggression than before. all eyes were on james who was scoring goals back to back. which is why not many people saw it, but remus was watching sirius, and so he did.

the quaffle was nowhere near sirius, it was metres below him and he was watching the chasers from up above like a hawk. so invested that he was not paying attention to the slytherin beaters.

the bludger came towards benjamin dobbin and he hit it, hard, directly at sirius. it hit him in the head. remus rose from his seat. people hadn’t seen it happen, but they certainly noticed as sirius fell, straight off of his broom.

remus’ hand went straight to his throat as he watched, helpless. madam hooch must have seen the hit as she blew her whistle immediately. james went into a dive but was too slow, sirius hit the floor with a thud.

the gryffindor team were on the ground in an instant, half of them running towards sirius and the others shouting at madam hooch. the slytherin beater responsible was screamed at but remus stopped paying attention to what his punishment was going to be.

“remus, it’s okay,” lily said, clutching his arm. “he’ll be okay.”

“you don’t know that.” remus left. he ran out of the stands and onto the pitch in time to see madam pomfret carey sirius’ limp body back towards the school. the game was put on halt. gryffindor were furious.

remus ran, he didn’t follow them off the pitch and instead sprinted back into the castle, running down the corridors until he made it to the hospital wing. some of the gryffindor team were there already.

“he needs space,” madam pomfrey was insisting. remus couldn’t see james in the crowd. good, he’d probably been let in.

“madam pomfrey,” remus said, desperately. the mediwitch looked at him, considering.

“mr lupin, in. everybody else, i will send janes back to the common room and he can let you know how he is. now please leave me to heal him.”

“thank you,” remus said, his breaths raged.

“i need you to keep your distance too, remus, until i’ve done all i can.”

remus nodded and made a beeline to where james was standing, a few metres away from sirius’ bed.

“moony! did you see it happen?”

“yeah. yeah, benjamin dobbin. hit it at sirius for no reason, clear foul.”

“yes, well, dobbin is suspended from the team, game is on pause. shit, i didn’t even see it! i couldn’t help! they only did it because of that bludger sirius got at regulus i guarantee it.”

sirius was unconscious, not to much surprise. madam pomfrey spent a long time brewing potions and casting spells. when she was satisfied, she stepped away.

“james, he’s okay. four broken ribs but they’ll heal. broken bones here and ther but nothing i can’t fix. he’s hit his head badly but he will come round. the rest of gryffindor have been sent back to the common room, will you let them know?”

james looked at sirius and nodded, “yeah. course.” he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, gave one final glance, and then turned and sprinted away.

“you can stay if you wish,” madam promfrey told him, “i gave him some potion that should bring him round soon, then i need to do some concussion testing. come and get me when he wakes.”

remus slumped into the chair next to the bed and quickly took sirius’ hand into his own. he could feel sirius’ pulse in his wrist, it must have been going at least half the speed of remus’ racing heart.

it took about ten minutes, but then he felt sirius squeeze his hand back and remus half gasped. “sirius,” he whispered.

“did we win?”

remus laughed wetly and kissed sirius’ forehead. “that’s what you care about? sirius, you could’ve died!”

sirius slowly opened his eyes, “but did we?”

“game is on pause, dobbin is suspended. merlin, i was so worried about you.”

sirius smiled, “this is how it feels, you know. every time i see you in here after a full moon.” he tried to sit up but winced and lay back down.

“sirius,” remus said, softly, “you know i’m okay. i have you james and pete, remember.”

“you didn’t used to. and i used to watch you come in here every month and it broke my heart.”

remus kissed his temple, “you gave us all such a fright.”

“sorry. i’ll survive.”

remus was ushered away as madam pomfrey returned. she spent almost an hour with him, running tests, giving him potions, mending broken bones. “okay, that’s it. just the sleeping draught now.”

remus thanked her and sat back down, holding the draught out to sirius. “you’ve been prescribed sleep.”

“and without you here i might actually get the duvet.”

remus smiled, “not too injured for humour i see.”

“never.”

remus kissed him, properly this time. “don’t do that to me again.”

“next time someone knocks me out i’ll stay in my broom, promise.”

“ha ha,” remus replied dryly, “very funny.”

“thanks for staying,” sirius said quietly, taking his hand again.

“you kidding? you stay with me in here every month even when you get no sleep during the moons either.”

sirius smiled and drank the sleeping draught. “‘s cause i love you.”

remus laughed, “first i love you and it’s whilst you’re concussed and heavily drugged up?”

“i mean it though, been wanting to tell you for ages but i was scared.”

“why?”

“incase you didn’t say it back.”

remus kissed their joint hands. “i love you too.”

sirius smiled, “yeah, i know.” then, he fell asleep.

[stevesharrlngtons]

adam, carved from the rib of eve.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: godfrey industries throws a party in the honor of their new ceo. roman is less than thrilled to be attending, but at least he has you. 

word count: 3.4k (a shortie)

a/n: i am such a slut for the “i hate everyone but you” trope as you can probably tell and that’s basically this fic lol. i ended up not loving the ending to this, but i like the beginning so i’m posting it anyways lol

Roman’s hand hadn’t left the small of your back for hours. His fingers widened and drummed and stroked and squeezed you through the slinky fabric of your dress, to both soothe himself and to keep you intune with his moods throughout the evening. His nails would probe into your skin when someone would approach him that he disliked, telling you with his fingertips of his distaste. Leaving small crescents in your dress and the smooth skin underneath kept him from showing his true loathing for an employee on his face. At certain points during the evening, you were worried that Roman would draw blood from his ministrations, fearing little lines of crimson would blot your dress and force you to tie his suit jacket around his waist like some midwestern mother. During these moments, you’d reach out to stroke his lapel or lean your temple to his shoulder in a show of affection and warning. Roman would ease his prodding and smooth his fingertips over his marks in sweet apology. 

Tonight was a big night for Roman. Tonight was the night that he was being officially inducted as the new CEO of Godfrey Industries. Large posters had been unrolled from the ceiling that pictured his signature pout and chilling glare; a slideshow that was being projected on a far wall of the rented ballroom showed pictures of Roman, Pryce and JR; napkins were leafed across tables with a congratulation message for Roman’s succession. Tonight was a momentous night in the history of The White Tower and the Godfrey legacy, and Roman was miserable. 

He hated that everyone wanted to talk about his father and Norman and his mother and Pryce and what he would do for the company in the future. He hated that he had to put on a neutral face and hob knob with men and women he deemed to be serfs and peasants. He hated that men eyed you up and down and women tried to grope him and he hated that anyone thought they were worthy of your combined presence. If either of you were forced to shake another hand he’d blow his brains out (hyperbole, unfortunately, because he could see a fat man with a wet upper lip approaching him).

But, he thanked whatever higher power that was out there that you were by his side, looking gorgeous and regal and supportive. Roman Godfrey said a silent thank you to every God his mind could name that you loved him and he loved you back, because he could not fathom attending this party without you. Without you smiling when he couldn’t conceal his hatred, without you lightening the mood with sweet anecdotes and pretending to look interested when his employees talked to you. 

You nodded and hummed and asked thoughtful follow up questions that left the impression on his lessers that Roman Godfrey and his girlfriend were good people; the kind of people who cared about the lives of their workers. He would be utterly lost without you, a thought that crossed his mind every time he glanced down at you, huddled into his side with a glass of champagne cradled in your dainty hand. 

Well, that and how much he wanted to fuck your brains out when you both returned home. You looked down right delicious in your evening gown.

Unfortunately when there is a party thrown in your honor, people are interested in talking to you. Soaking up your presence without any regard for how the honoree might feel. The mouth breathing attendees wrapped in their rented Men’s Wearhouse tuxedos didn’t care that Roman just wanted one minute alone to cozy up to his girl, as they formed a line to congratulate him and try to perform for him as a way to prove their keep. Little did they know they were just doing the opposite, only fueling his ire for them. Thankfully, the line had diminished for the first time that evening, leaving you and Roman to your own devices by the bar. 

“Thank fucking God,” Roman murmured as he order a bourbon and another glass of champagne for you. 

“Just try to grin and bear it. We can leave in an hour.” You reply, squeezing his hand that still resided near your backside. 

He groaned, “An hour?” 

“Yes, an hour. This party is for you. You don’t want to seem ungrateful or stuck up.” 

The bartender placed your drinks in front of each of you. Roman took his quickly and took a long pull from the glass. 

“You my PR director now?” He muses. 

“Hell yes I am, and you better be thankful,” You say, quite matter a factly, “I make you look good, approachable, the boy next door. Not the playboy who snorts coke off of hookers tits. I am the Persephone to your Hades. And people love it.” 

Roman chuckles, “I can’t say I don’t like that comparison.” 

You smile at him over the rim of your glass. Roman takes a drink from his own glasses and swallows thickly before speaking again.

“You know I am thankful for you, right?” 

Your grin softens at the uncharacteristic confession and you place your glass back on the bar so you can cozy up to him, “I’m thankful for you, too.” 

Roman stared down at you, love and appreciation pooling in his green eyes as his hand loops around you to link with his other. You place both hands on his chest and kiss his chin chastley as Roman melts into your embrace. You make him feel so needy and weak in a way he had always chased away and feared. But you made him love it, revel in it, look forward to the feeling. Though, it made his guard fall, you and your sweet kisses and sweeter touches, and right now, while he was in a room full of judgmental employees that he was trying to make see him as their alpha, probably wasn’t the best time for him to be turning to honey and sun shining warmth. 

Luckily (or not so luckily) the haze you two were in was broken by an onlooker. 

“I believe congratulations are in order.” 

Roman’s glare hardens within seconds as he looks away from you to Pryce, who stands behind you, hands clasped behind his back. 

“I don’t need them.” Roman replies, letting you untangle yourself from him. 

“Well, I offer my sincere pride and happiness for you, anyway.” Pryce says with a tight lipped smile. 

Roman doesn’t respond, just raises his eyebrows at the other man. 

After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Pryce moves his attentions to you, “(Y/N), you look stunning tonight.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” You respond politely. 

“I’ve heard from many patrons tonight that you have bewitched them, they are all fat and happy with the care you’ve shown them.”

“I do what I can.”

“I would enjoy it if some of that good will would rub off on you, Roman. It isn’t becoming for any of us for you to look like a tyrant.”

Roman scoffs, “I don’t want them to like me. I want them to be fucking scared of who I am and what I can do.” 

“I believe Mussolini said something similar.” Pryce quips back quickly. 

“I’ll be their fucking Mussolini if I have to be.” 

“Let’s hope you’ll be more effective.” 

And again, there is a tense pause between the three of you. You sip the bubbles from your glass and try to burrow into Roman’s side to calm him. You knew Roman was capable of explosive outbursts, and you really preferred if he didn’t have one tonight in front of all these people. Especially at Pryce, when they were supposed to be creating a united front for the company. 

“Well, unfortunately I didn’t just come over to offer my congratulations,” Pryce begins. 

“It’s never just one thing with you,” Roman responds spitefully. 

“I came over to inform you that you are expected to give your speech soon.”

Roman’s jaw ticks, “What fucking speech?” 

“The speech we discussed last week.” 

“We didn’t discuss shit.”

“Believe me or not, we discussed a speech last week. Though, I suppose I am not surprised you don’t remember, as you seemed less than thrilled with the news when I gave it to you.” Pryce lamented. 

“I am less than fucking thrilled about it now.” He snapped. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Roman. This is a part of the job; addressing the troops.” 

“I don’t address the troops, I delegate someone to do that for me. Which is you, in the scenario.” 

“I am already giving a speech tonight, Roman. The one before your own that introduces you.” Pryce informs. 

Roman doesn't retort, just clenches his jaw tightly, you could see his muscles pulse through his skin. The glare he was giving Pryce would have made a lesser man quake, make them sweat and tremble with fear. But, the good doctor was used to Roman’s stares. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Roman spat, his face so close to Pryce’s that you could see flecks of spit freckle his skin. 

Roman then stormed off, pushing his way through the crowd and disappearing. 

Pryce gives a deep sigh, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face while you simply shrug. 

“I can’t say it doesn’t worry me that a bonafide child will be taking over this company.” 

“Easy.” You say, reminding Pryce who he is talking too, “He’s just overwhelmed. He’s not much for public speaking.”

“But public tantrums he has no problem with.” 

“He’s very passionate. Something that will take this company far. Don’t forget that he is JR’s son, who himself was a very passionate man.” 

Pryce eyes you, “Will you continue to spin his outbursts into good omens?” 

You shrug again, this time with a budding smile, “I don’t mind.” 

He snorts, “What we do for love.” 

“Tell me about it.” You reply, before leaving Pryce by himself at the bar and going to search for Roman. 

You found him in a back hallway of the ballroom, back pressed to the wall with his knees to his chest, a lit cigarette between his lips.

“You look very modelesque right now. Very sexy,” You smirked and Roman looked up at you, “Like this in black and white? Boom, Vogue cover guaranteed.” 

You walked toward where he sat and smoothed your dress against the backs of your thighs so you could do the same. You faced him and rested your cheek to his bent knee. 

“You’re very funny,” He replied sarcastically, taking another drag from his cigarette, “Maybe I’ll just quit now and work on finding an agent.” 

“Well, you have the bone structure for it.” You played, but Roman still seemed less than amused.

“I’m serious. What if this is a sign?” He said, twiddling the filter between his thumb and forefinger. 

“What, the speech?” 

“Yes, the speech. What if me fucking it up, forgetting about it, is some sign from the business Gods that I’m just bound to mess this all up in the end? That I’ll embarrass myself and my father…” Roman’s voice shook at the periods. 

He was terrified, but had done a good job at hiding it. Over the last few weeks, you had been asking him how he felt about taking over at Godfrey, and everytime his answer was succinct and indifferent. Each time he told you that he was perfectly fine with the idea, as it was something that had been promised to him since birth. You never pried or pushed, but you made sure to keep a closer eye on his feelings than you normally did. You had a feeling the other shoe was going to drop and Roman would feel the weight of this decision lay on him, you were just waiting for when. 

“Baby, hey,” You cooed, snuggling closer to his folded up form, “None of that is going to happen, and you forgetting some stupid speech doesn’t mean anything. It means that you forgot, that's it. You’re human, you’re allowed to make human mistakes.” 

“Not in this job. Not when everyone is already waiting for me to fail.” Roman said.

“Well, you still are, because I’m telling you. You are allowed fuck ups and mistakes. It makes you seem more relatable.” You pluck the cigarette from between his fingers and take a drag. 

“I don’t want to relatable to those people,” Roman spits, “My God, nothing sounds worse.” 

You giggle, “Good thing you will never be like those people out there. Because those people, the ones out there desperately searching for your approval? Those people were born to worship men like you, Roman. You were born the man to be worshipped, the man to be followed.” 

Roman looked at you with his big doe eyes, both filmed with unshed tears as his lips pursed. You moved to place his cigarette back between his pouted mouth and let your thumb sweep across his bottom lip as you did.

“You, Roman Godfrey, will be amazing. You will shock and awe any and everyone. You’re not going to fail, because you don’t know how, baby. You are the man that I love, and no matter what, that won’t change.” 

A few tears had fallen on his cheeks as you spoke and Roman sniffled quietly, “You promise?” 

“I do.” And you leaned forward to slot your lips with his. 

The kiss was gentle and reassuring, you could taste the salt of his tears and the bourbon and smoke on his tongue. Roman’s hand came around to rest on your side and you purred at the contact. 

When you parted, it was because you could both hear the muffled sound of Pryce’s booming voice over the microphone. 

“Fuck,” Roman groaned, thunking his head against the wall, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

“This is what you’re going to do,” You leaned forward and took his face in your hand, “You’re going to go up there, thank Pryce for his words about you. Then, mention how much this company meant to your father and how proud you were of him, and how proud he would be of you. Then say something about how much you love the company, how much it means to you and the world of medicine, blah, blah, blah. Then round it out with something light hearted, maybe make a joke? Then you’re done, you’re out of there.” 

“Are you sure that’s enough?” 

“It’s gonna have to be.” 

Roman nodded, before crushing the remainder of his cigarette under his dress shoe and pulling you into his side. You both sat in silence as you listened to the faint sound of Pryce’s speech. He was a well spoken man, which you knew made Roman nervous. 

“You know,” You said, breaking Roman from ruminating on what was to come, “I heard this couple talking shit about us.” 

“What?” Roman barked, snapping his head to look down at you. 

“Yep, when I was coming out to look for you, I heard them.” 

“What in the ever loving fuck did they say?” He fumes. 

“They were talking about how we were eye fucking each other all night, and how are PDA was inappropriate for the event.” You snort a laugh. 

“Who were they? Did you get a good look?” He was angry, you could feel it in the rigidity of his body. Your plan was working.

“Nah, just overheard them.” 

“Well, they better fucking hope I don’t find out who the fuck they are. Fucking rip their fucking eyes out for looking.” 

You giggle and Roman looks down at you again, anger and curiosity in his eyes. 

“I just love it when you get all riled up, it’s hot, baby,” You reach out to press a lingering kiss to his pulse point, “Love it even more than when you show everyone that I’m yours.”

Roman’s expression changes on a dime and pure hatred shifts into a sauve look of arousal, “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You hum, leaning to give more kisses to his throat, “I love how your hands feel on me, love that everyone can see, love how possessive you are, baby.”

A moan rips from Roman’s chest and he quickly grabs you and forces your legs around his hips to straddle him, “You like it when I show everyone you’re mine, huh?” 

He subtly bucks his crotch into your own and you whimper at the contact, “I love everything you do to me, baby.” 

His lips descend on yours once more, but this kiss is anything but soft. It’s hot and passionate and intense and fucking raw. His teeth clanging against your own, his tongue pushed deep in your mouth, both his hands groping your breasts. He occasionally broke apart from you to curse or to whisper an obscenity. You loved when he got like this, and you knew he needed it. He needed to feel in control, he needed to feel desired and strong. He needed to know he was still powerful; a protector. 

“You wanna know what you’re gonna do?” You moan, pushing his face to mouth at your neck.

“What, baby?” He asked breathlessly as he covered your skin in filthy kisses.

“You’re going to go out there, and fucking nail this speech. Show them that you’re the fucking boss, that you are in charge. That you own them and this fucking company. And you’re gonna do it knowing that I am in the audience, watching you, waiting for you to take me home and fuck me so good I can’t see straight.” And you pulled him away from you. 

His pupils were blown, his mouth red and kiss bitten and he panted as he gazed at you. 

“What the hell? Your plan was to give me blue balls then throw me on stage?” 

“A little, but mostly make you remember who you are. Roman Godfrey, the most powerful man I know, the only man who gets me soaked in seconds.” 

“Damn right I am,” He kisses you hard once more before you pull him off again. 

“Now go give your speech so we can go home,” You patted his shoulders firmly then stood from his lap. 

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Roman complained, standing as well. 

But he didn’t, he really fucking loved you. Because somehow you knew every part of him, every nook and cranny of his twisted brain, every emotion and feeling before he had it. You knew him, and you always knew just what to do. He had been preening at your earlier praise and then fully immersed in your kiss and had totally forgotten about the speech altogether, along with his nerves. You had pumped up his ego with acclaim and hot touches and suddenly he wasn’t so scared anymore. Because all those stupid fucks out there, they didn’t matter. Like him or not, he owned this company, he owned them. They would learn to fear him, to want to be him, and that was something Roman knew was true (something that you had helped remind him). He fucking loved you so much, for always knowing what to do when he felt lost and helpless in the dark. Roman knew that taking over Godfrey Industries was the first in many steps he would take for the rest of his life to take care of you, and guide you through the blackness when you needed it.

“Sure you do,” You laugh.

“I’m supposed to go up there with this? You gonna let that happen?” He gestured to the bulge in his pants. 

“Think about baseball.” You shrugged and started back to the ballroom. 

Roman groaned loudly before catching up to you. 

As you both came through the double doors to the event, Pryce seemed to just be finishing up, catching Roman’s eye in relief that he hadn’t bounced. You reached down and gripped his hand as Pryce introduced Roman and gestured him to the stage. 

His face fell as all eyes moved to him, but you were there to plant a strong kiss on his lips and whisper, “Just giving that couple somethin’ to talk about.” 

Roman couldn’t help the cocky smile that spread over his face after that. He walked to the stage and you took your seat at one of the head tables. 

Roman cleared his throat and shook his blazer over his shoulder to resettle it as he looked out over the sea of his new employees. The sea of his new employees and you: who gave him an excited thumbs up and a wink. 

And Roman knew this would be a piece of cake. 

i really hope you enjoyed!! if you did, i would love to hear any and all feedback <3 also, bear with me for a while, i am not sure when my next story will be out bc the ones i have working on rn are kinda long, but! until next time (:

[darthkruge]

Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.  

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him. 

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness. 

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff. 

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand. 

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear. 

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle. 

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-” 

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot. 

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him. 

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints. 

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours. 

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought. 

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings. 

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding. 

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth. 

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse. 

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment. 

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you. 

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

 Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you.  I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms” 

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through. 

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you. 

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue. 

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

--

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@saltybreaddream

[misslynn99]

Epicenter: Chapter One

Link on AO3: Epicenter

Author: misslynn_99 (Me!)

a/n: I totally forgot that I could post this here to help bring in traffic lol. This is a Pro Hero! Bakugo x Reader insert I've been playing around with. Enjoy!

Red Riot was a regular of yours. His bright smile lit up the atmosphere of the little coffee shop, infectious and spilling over to anyone else in the vicinity. He was friendly, inviting even, as he ordered two coffees- one plain black and another syrupy sweet with cream. He usually turned up a couple times a week up business causal, perfectly content to leisurely chat and sign autographs before inevitably ducking out shyly, laughing that his partner wouldn’t be thrilled with cold coffee. You’d grown to love the visits of the charming hero, finding it easy to get lost in his easy conversation and brilliant ruby eyes. You couldn’t help but wish that maybe one day he’d order just one coffee and stay a while longer to sip it at a table across from you.

Today was not one of those days. Instead, he barreled through the doors, dragging a bedraggled blonde in across his bare shoulders. The harsh muzzle and shredded fabric of his hero costume was a slap in the face, reminding you that he was not just a charming civilian, but instead one of the finest defenders of the city. The café customers had already evacuated, but you had stayed to quickly close up the shop. “Watch him, will ya?” He huffed. “He’s been hurt. I know you’ve got a minor healing quirk, and he’s in no shape to return to the fight. Deku and Uravity are on the scene too. We can handle it from there, but this idiot will get himself killed just to prove that he’s just fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll do my best to patch him up.”

“Thanks, doll.” He prodded at your check playfully. “I owe you one. Blasty here is quite the bear when he’s pissed. Don’t worry, I made sure his blasters were empty before I brought him to you. I couldn’t have him taking out my favorite place. ” Carefully setting the blonde on the coffee bar, Red Riot raced back to the scene, where a villain with a rouge power-type quirk was wreaking havoc.

“What am I going to do with you?” The words absentmindedly left your lips, fingers tracing a tender looking cut along his arm. Sighing, you stripped the gauntlets from his arms and legs, leaving the pro hero in just the Kevlar of his hero costume.

Angry red bruises already dotted his exposed skin. His chest shuttered unevenly with each shallow breath, and his soft blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. “I’ve got to have a first aid kit around here somewhere.”

The scent of alcohol almost overpowered the stench of burnt sugar and gasoline that seemed to seep from the blonde’s every pore. Even barely conscious, he hissed a curse as the disinfectant stung his open wounds “Fuck!”

“Red’ll kill me if you get an infection.” You muttered. “Just sit still. I’ll get you something for the pain here soon.”

“Hands off.” He slurred. “I’m going back.”

“Your ribs are broken.” A gentle hand to his chest was more than enough to stop the hero.  “Let me heal you first.”

Stalling was your best option, but sparks danced along the hero’s palms. He left me with Ground Zero, cheeky little asshole. you thought viciously. The feral black mask and fiery red eyes should have been a dead giveaway but, lost in the moment with Red Riot, you had missed it. Ground Zero looked so vulnerable, even as he struggled to resist your help. Each breath seemed to whistle through his gritted teeth. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his brow and splattered onto the counter, and his entire frame shuddered from pain. Yet his steely frown bit back at you, screaming that he was determined to rejoin the fight with a confidence that his words could not convey.

“And Shitty Hair, Deku, and Cheeks aren’t finishing without me.”

“Just let me handle the ribs, okay?” You pacified. “Broken ribs could mean a punctured lung with another hit, and a punctured lung means you’ll spend the next few weeks in the hospital with a chest tube. Even then, you might not get the lung capacity back. So let me fix it.”

“Fine.” He spat. “I’m waiting.”

You felt the heat of embarrassment on your face. “This is going to hurt. A lot.” You gulped. “I need to touch the injury directly, so shirt off.”

Ground Zero motioned to pull the black and orange tank top over his head, but froze. “Can’t move my shoulder like that.” He growled.

“Should’ve known.” You sighed nervously. “You’ve probably got flail chest close to your sternum. Where ever that thing hit you, I think it broke a bunch of ribs so they’re not attached to the rest of your chest wall now.”

“Just fix it.” Ground Zero snapped. “By any means necessary.”

You nodded, intimidated by the hero’s anger. Praying that no one walked in the shop, you carefully peeled the fabric away, and flinched at the sight of the marred skin. Sickeningly black bruises blossomed from just below his clavicle and you tenderly laid a hand across his pectoral. The bones shifted slightly under your touch. His injuries were more extensive than you had expected, as you felt the puffy skin and sharp edges of displaced fractures through the lean tissue of his torso.

“How do I know this isn’t just an excuse to feel me up, perv?” A bright shade of red flushed his cheeks.

“That’s pretty messed up.” You glowered. “I don’t have to do this, you know. All I’d have to tell Red is that I tried but you blew me off and staggered out the door anyways. I don’t appreciate being accused of groping you while trying to do you a favor, so if you don’t want my help we can just wait here.”

“Fine, just get on with it.”

Cool energy trailed from your fingertips, dancing over his skin and sinking in. “Fuck!” He swore again, writhing against the counter. You could feel yourself sway, energy sapping as the bones knit back together. His chest grew warm beneath your touch, or maybe it was just your icy fingers as cold settled in your core.

“Why don’t I feel tired?” He peered curiously at you, as you slumped forward onto the counter.

“Because it saps my energy, not yours. Why do you think I own a coffee shop instead of being a traveling healer?”

“Blasty!” Red Riot’s voice was music to your ears. “I hope you didn’t give my favorite girl too much trouble now.”

“He,” you wheezed. “Still needs to see a doctor. He needs a chest X ray to make sure everything is in the right place. “

“I think you need to see a doctor.” Red’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, running a hand across your forehead, fingers trembling against the freezing skin beneath. “You’re so cold.”

“If I’m going to a doctor, so is this idiot.” You scowled at Ground Zero’s jeer, getting to his feet as if to prove he was just fine.

“Come on.” The blonde grabbed your arm, pulling you across the bar, and attempted to shoulder your weight across his back.

“Not on my watch.” Red caught you before you could hit the ground. “Didn’t she say that you need to be seen? Something tells me that you’re the one who needs to be carried.”

“I can walk myself!” Ground Zero barked, although his knuckles were white from gripping the counter top and his jaw clenched. Your vision was swimming, but he seemed to sway as he took a few unsteady steps towards the door.

“Sure you can.” Red rolled his eyes with a wink your way. “But you’re not taking this lovely lady on a one-way trip to the floor in the process.

“I’ve got them!” A flash of pink and black ducked around Red’s arms, and suddenly you were weightless. “Nearest hospital is a couple of blocks to the north. Deku is taking the villain down to the station, in the quirk-cancelling cuffs. I moved most of the rubble out of the way, but I’ll come back to help with the clean-up. I just had to see how Bakugo was holding up. “

“I think my girl here has him stable.” Red Riot frowned. “But she’s not doing so hot. Why’s that? I thought Blasty here would be the one drained.”

“Quirk,” You slurred, relaxing in to the weightless embrace of whatever was supporting you. “Drains my energy. ‘S why I’m not a healer. He was hurt, real bad. Flail chest, I think.”

“She needs IV fluids.” You were vaguely aware of moving, unbidden, with Red’s arms no longer warming you against his chest as your consciousness dimmed.

................................

A gentle prod to the arm stirred you back into awareness. “Hey.”

“Red Riot.” Your head lolled to the side. The cool, metallic hospital bed chilled your bare skin, shivering against the thin blanket. The smell of antiseptic stung, and the image of Ground Zero’s uneven breaths burned behind your eyelids. The tell-tale stiffness in your arm was a sign of the IV already inserted, surely dulling the ache in your own chest with a steady drip of pain medication. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Blasty is doing just fine.” His warm hand splayed across your shoulder comfortingly. You hadn’t noticed before, but as he leaned over your bedside, you could have sworn that you saw a hint of black roots amongst his fiery red hair. Concern creased his face, and his cologne tickled at your throat, smelling of patchouli, leather, and pine. “You gave us all quite the scare there. But Ground Zero is a lucky man. The doctors say that you fixed up his five broken ribs, three of which detached from his chest wall.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the operating room. They had to go in and stop some of the internal bleeding, and clear out the pooled blood in his chest so it wouldn’t give him a collapsed lung.”

“Thank you, Red Riot.” A sigh escaped your lips.

“Don’t be so formal. My name is Eijirou Kirishima. Call me Eijirou, or Kiri, or just something that’s not my hero name. It’s not like my real name is a public secret.” He laughed.

Stealing a glance to the side, you smirked. “I could call you Sharky.” His eyes widened, and you chuckled. “But I think I like Kiri.”

A doctor quickly cut the exchange short, her harsh raps on the door breaking the moment. “He’s out of the OR and in recovery.” She directed her attention towards Eijirou. “Do you want to go back and see him?”

“You can go, I’ll be okay.”

“Nah, Bakugo would never let me live it down if I ditched a civilian at the hospital.”

“I want to know how he’s doing.” You nudged his side with your elbow, trying your best to look convincing. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“I’ll be right back!” The tension in his shoulders eased, sagging in relief. “Don’t leave without me, okay?”

“I’ll hold her discharge paperwork until you return.” The doctor’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “I need to ask her a few questions anyhow, so it is beneficial that you’re out of the room for a little bit.”

Eijirou scurried out, and a pang of affection fluttered in your chest. “He’s such a kind hero.” You sighed.

“He is.” The doctor plucked a pen from the pocket of her white coat and began to add notes to your medical chart. “How are you feeling? Still light headed?”

“I feel much better. Just a bit tired still.”

“Okay, I’m going to release you with orders to take it easy for the next day or so, and if you start feeling poorly, please go either to your general practitioner, or return here for further treatment. I’m going to remove your IV, and then I just need you to sign the discharge paperwork, and wait for your escort to come back.”

“I’m back!” Eijirou grinned as he poked his head in, watching as you signed the papers. “Uraraka is forcibly floating Blasty back to his apartment so he doesn’t wind up passed out on a train somewhere. They’ve got him all sorts of knocked up on pain killers. But I’m ready to take you back to the shop if you’re good to go.”

“I am.” You nodded. “I still need to finish closing up shop, though. I locked up the cash from the register, but the machines need cleaned and the doors need locked before I call it a night.”

Eijirou just smiled sheepishly, his hands ready to steady you as you climbed out of the hospital bed.

“I’m okay.” You whined, batting his arm away playfully. “The press would have a hay day if you held my arm or god forbid carried me anywhere.”

“Oh! Uhh, yeah, you’re right.” He flinched, arms snapping back to his sides, and you instantly regretted even bringing it up as you watched Eijirou school his features to look carefully professional once more, carefully ushering you out the door.

"I think the ladies would be too devastated, if the press made it seem like the most eligible bachelor of the pro heroes was off the dating market.” You joked nervously, trying to ease the tension that had settled between the two of you.

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes, cracking a slight smirk. “Who else are they going to drool over? No one else is nearly as manly as me.”

"Not even Ground Zero?”

“A close second.” He conceded. “But he really only shows anger and annoyance, which decidedly unmanly. His only downfall.”

The café was in sight again- and mostly still intact. It was nestled between a few other businesses on the strip, quiet and unassuming. You wondered briefly how the heroes had even taken notice, when everything else about the world of heroes seemed so loud and chaotic. The chalkboard outside was  smudged with dust, as were the windows that offered a peak into the cozy shop, but as far as you could see, nothing had been damaged or broken into during your absence.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a long day of cleaning.” You groaned.

“Occupational hazard.” Eijirou laughed. “I think this is where I let you go, though.”

Turning to face him and putting your hand on his shoulder, you looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Eijirou. Thanks for making sure I was okay and that I got home safely. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and what you continue to do for the city.”

“Just doing my job.” He replied sheepishly, his voice half an octave higher than usual. “I think my patrol shift starts here soon, so I’ll catch on the flipside for my usual.”

Eijirou left, and you carefully locked the doors behind him. The silence was deafening. The café usually buzzed with quite murmurs of those working, catching up with friends, or tentatively flirting with a prospective partner. Normally, the café wouldn’t close for a few more hours, but even leaning against the counter seemed to draw from the deepest reserves of strength you could bare, and you wished Eijirou had stayed.

That’s what you get for making the man so uncomfortable. The voice inside your head whispered cruelly. Shouldn’t get hung up on your silly little crush. He’s just a hero looking to maintain a public image, not get to know you or your life or sweep you off of your feet. You should stop this before you embarrass yourself.

“Kiri is a kind man.” You whispered to yourself, as if to silence your own internal monologue, hands deftly cleaning the espresso machines. “He cares about others. I may not be special, but he is genuine.”

The coffee bar was strangely oily, and once again your senses were assaulted with the stench of over-cooked caramel and thick smoke. Ground Zero was an enigma; you knew that his temper was just as explosive as his quirk, frequently berating civilians unfortunate enough to be caught in his way and chasing away reporters with a more than a few sparks. Yet, despite his notoriously low public approval levels, he still managed to rank as the number two hero. His record for take downs and civilian rescues were immaculate, only outranked by Deku. For someone so who was so determined to be the take over the spot for number one hero, he was prickly at best and outright aggressive at worst. He was a confusing contradiction of everything the public believed of pro heroes, and in his own way, stole the media’s attention as they leaned into Ground Zero’s “bad boy” reputation.

You wondered if he appreciated the media’s attempts to make him more likeable, or if it only annoyed him further. Ground Zero certainly didn’t seem appreciative of your help, nor was he thrilled with Eijirou’s attempts to joke about his bad attitude. He was so different from his partner; Red Riot was the media’s sweetheart, sympathetic and caring, and known for his tendency to help civilians even with menial tasks. He was both an unbreakable force for good against the villains plaguing the city and an approachable everyday hero.

Ground Zero didn’t have that luxury, his humanity lost to his pro hero status. It seemed like a lonely existence. With a sigh, you finished your cleaning, and taped a “Closed early” sign to the front door, and wandered back up to your apartment to rest for the evening.

[snapefiction]

#10. Slippery Slope - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 10 of Snapemas! I know this one is delayed but also much longer than my usual ones and completely different and it feels weird to publish smut

This one got longer than I wanted it to and more sexual than I wanted it too as well. I had no time to proof read it again. So please only read this if you're 18+. Enjoy! 

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Adult!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Mention of Violence/Pain, NSFW, Smut 18+!

Word count: 5170

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your last name

#10. Slipperly Slope Smut - Snapemas Challenge

,When I’m back at home i´ll drink a cup of tea and just relax until New Years Eve.´ Thats what kept you moving through the small alley, hidden behind the shining Shops, the crowd of people and away from the small Cafe you work at. The cold made it’s way through your clothes and you felt naked. Like the freezing air left lovebites at your legs, crawling up to your chest, over your breasts, around the shoulders down your arms- you began to freeze. 

This Winter was the worst one you ever witnessed. Actually you and the cold were friends you never got used to snow and the ice. The Sun was already setting down as you crossed the corner of the alley before walking over to the small way leading to the last few houses of this dammed edge of England. You knew no one here. You came here alone a few years ago when there was no going back to your family, to the house you grew up in or anyone else. You were left completely alone and this hole- this last spot in this Town that no one - not even the ones who were born here knew- this is where you had to make yourself a home.

Taking one last deep breath only to release a small cloud of oxygen leaving your lungs seconds after you took the steps up to the entrance of your so what called home. But when you could already imagine the warmth of the safety hitting your skin your feet slipped on one of the steps and your chest, hands, knees and almost your nose hitted against the bricks from under your feet. Out of shock your fingers let go of your keys which flew right into the drain next to your House entrance. The Ice was even more merciless than the wind who crawled into your skin earlier. Mixed with little stones and dust from the street it pressed itself into your body and left little cuts. Closing your eyes for a second you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get those keys back as they would now already swimming deep down under the surface of the street. Trying to get up you checked your Hands. One Cut at the side of your hand that tried to hold you when you slipped. Your arm hurt, but it was alright. The worst thing were your rips. It felt like someone was punching you deeply and as you slid one of your fingers over them through your thick Jacket you already had to flinch. It was bad and all you wanted was this day to end. For a short moment you thought about letting all your emotions out. Crying out of Pain, Screaming out of anger, Pleading for something that felt like love, hoping for an way out of your daily dark thoughts and a way out of this place. Or maybe just a savior to call your own. But your rational thought overtook again.

You couldn’t stay out for any longer or else you’d become sick or probably could freeze to death. Biting your Nails you thought of a solution. The windows were all locked and you couldn’t climb on the wall as your ribs hurted too bad plus it was way to slippery, your spare key got stolen weeks ago, you didn’t knew how to unlock locked doors with a hair clip or anything else that would get you into your house but calling your landlord hoping he could help you. With a checking Glance over to the house a few meters away you hoped that your neighbours where home and no serial killers. Even if they were Serial Killers, it couldn’t get any worse than how you currently live and it would be more interesting than anything that had happened to you in the last few years in general. Also you knew how to do karate- or at least you thought you knew how to do it.

Slowly getting down on your icy steps and walking over to your neighbours house you gave it a closer look. It wasn’t special, it was one of there houses that you knew that they were there but probably never truly recognised. It was dark- no, it was dirty and old. Not very trustworthy but currently your only chance. As earlier you took a deep breath again and knocked, hoping for some warmth to release your tension that had build up from the long time in the cold. At first there was no answer. A desperation build up in you. Looking on the doorbell you saw the name written on it. ,S. Snape´. You never heard this name before.

,,Mr. Snape? Mr. Snape? Could you- I need help.“ Cringing at your own words, at the fact of how vulnerable you made yourself you knocked again.

,,If I could just use your cellphone for a minute- I’m your neighbour.“ The door opened only to reveal a tall man, with dark clothes and a strict look on his face. Not to mention his shoulder length, black hair and his perfume of tea, pine and old books. Taken by his presence you only realised that he was waiting for an introduction or explanation as he raised his dark eyebrow.

,,I- I slipped on my steps and my keys erm- flew into the drain. If I could call my Landlord really quick that’d be really nice.“ Closing his eyes for a second you noticed how deep brown- almost black- is that even possible- are. ,,I won’t bother you for long.“ Promising, pleading you looked up to him. With a small Move he went to the side so you could slide in.

,,Come in.“ He added to his obvious invite. His deep voice slightly echoed through the house. Following him you tried to brush some dirt off your Jacket without crossing the area where your skin still pulsates before entering the Kitchen where he simply put a Telephone in your hands. Thanking him with a small embarrassed smile and a short nod you dialled the number. You knew the number too well by now. There was always a problem at or with the house. Something was always broken and you had to call him every two weeks by now. The beeping wouldn’t stop and your mind already knew he wouldn’t pick up today. It was too late in the evening. Biting your Lip you hung up only to feel another heavy weight laying down on your chest. ,,Thank you, Mr. Snape.“ Mumbling you looked down to the ground only to remember that this was going to be an cold night. Wiping your running nose with the side of your arm and trying to keep the upcoming tears I your eyes you made your way back to the entrance from where your neighbour had led you. ,,Merry Christmas.“ You added before offering a last devastated smile and walking over back to the Entrance of your House. Mr. Snape hasn’t said anything but replied to you Merry Christmas with an ,,You too.“ Before he quickly closed the door.

So you sat in front of your door, the Back carefully leaned against the cold wood, trying not to touch your rip and letting the tears fall. Pulling your knees as close as possible you never felt this lonely before. The Tears rolled over your puffy cheeks which were also the last warm thing on you. What were you supposed to do but drown yourself in sorrow already? Never before has a Christmas be as bad as this one. Minutes passed and the last thing that came into your mind was sneaking back to work after everyone left. Until the cafe closed you still had a couple of hours to wait so you could sneak in from one of the windows that wasn’t working properly anymore. Sighing you now wiped your eyes. The cold was unbearable and just painful by now. Laying your head on your knees you hoped to hide from the falling snow that became heavier and heavier by now. But instead it made you almost fall asleep. You were just tired, your eyes so heavy and your mind so lost. A slumber almost reached you until you heard snow crunch in front of you. Weakly looking up you saw Mr. Snape. In his tall hands he held a patterned Blanket. ,,Would you like to come in? You’ll freeze to death out here.“ He was right. Your fingers were about to turn blue and until the cafe closed you were probably taken by the cold. With much caution he opened the Blanket to pull it over your shoulders and helped you up. Your feet hurt by now too, everything did. As Mr. Snape noticed your trembling he held his arm around you.

,,Let me help you.“ Drained you let him lead you, back into his house, through his kitchen in front of his cabin. Across of the Sofa he sat you on you saw a small reflection of yourself. Your lips were blue and not rosy anymore. This is where life has brought you. Taking a deep breath you leaned your head against the sofa. Taking in the sudden warm you are more and more tired. As the warmth hit your freezing skin you could feel little thunders hitting your skin and the storm inside of your growling. Too exhausted to care you drifted asleep.

As he sat the nameless woman down on his couch he instantly knew he had to warm her up. Make some tea, get more blankets, maybe something to eat too? But as he brought her a tea he noticed that she had fallen asleep by now. Silently he spoke a few Spells to make her feel better soon before getting back to the kitchen. Severus looked at the painting hanging above his fridge.

,,Lily, what the hell am I supposed to do?“ He whispered overwhelmed at the red haired woman. She just rolled his eyes.

,,She was almost freezing , maybe help her warm up? Ugh, you fought the dark lord and have no idea of how to treat humans. Kind of funny.“ Angrily he shot at her with an angry Glare. She was his best friend and knew perfectly fine how to pick up on him.

,,Genius.“ He mumbled sarcastically as he took out one of his pots out of his cupboards to warm up a chicken soup. Turning on the stove he scratched his collar only to reach the spot where Nagini left this deep scar. Whenever he heard someone mention the dark lord he had this feeling to itch his scar. It became an uncomfortable habitat.

,,You really need to work on your social anxiety. It’s been a few years by now.“ Lily now spoke softer and followed his steps with her eyes in worry.

,,Yes, seven to be exact but as you may have seen I opened the door to someone and let her in.“ Taking out his wand to do the rest of the cooking he pressed his lips together. Merlin, he loved his best friend but she could grow quite annoying sometimes.

,,Fine. Just be nice, okay? It was hard enough to get you open that door so you can at least be polite. She’s really not doing well.“ Again she was worried but now over that girl laying on the couch still wrapped in blankets and her winter jacket.

,,I am as always ,nice´.“ Severus now spoke, filled some soup in a small bowl, signed her to be quite and walked into his living room again.

Setting down the bowl he stood there awkwardly. Should he speak to her? Tap her shoulder? Let her sleep? He decided to clear his throat and watch her slowly wake up. Looking at her red puffy eyes made him feel sorry for his incompetence to let her stay from the moment she knocked on his door.   Collecting his words and building an sentence with everything he wanted to say he sat down on the small armchair to her right.

,,I made you soup.“ A poet. You’re a literal Poet, Severus. Dumbass he thought to himself before pointing at the Bowl in front of her. Again she just smiled shyly and kept her glance low from him. He’d really like to see her eyes. What colour were they exactly?

,,Thank you.“ Her hoarse voice made him remember the Tea he made for her. He brewed a new Kettle for her. Peppermint Tea. He always drinks black tea but for her he almost crawled into his cupboard only to find the last bag of peppermint tea. He again moved in his chair only to push the cup closer to her.

,,It’s Peppermint.“ Every inch of creativity has obviously left his Body, he thought to himself. Maybe ask about her day, he could almost hear Lilys Voice in the back of his Head. Well it must have been a bad one if she sat crying in front of her door and almost froze to death. Ask her something. Something creative. Thousands of Thoughts ran though his mind but non made him comfortable so he chosed the first one he could catch.

,,D- Do you like dogs?“ His voice trembled. The prettiest Girl he had met in a eternity was sitting in front of him and he asked her about-.. dogs?

You had to keep yourself together not to burst out laughing. Your Mouth almost couldn’t keep the warm tea in your mouth as you though about this terribly random question and your lips arched into a smile. Swallowing the sip you still ha din your mouth you nodded before placing the cup back down.

,,Actually, yes, I do. And what about you?“ Nodding he clasped his hands together visibly nervous.

,,I never had one but someone at my Work, Hagrid, had this huge dog. He was kind of precious. Scary but precious.“ Blinking a few times you tried to follow his intentions. Probably he was just trying to start some smalltalk. The mysterious scary man I just met a few hours ago invites me in to offer me soup and talk about dogs? Well, you loved dogs so that wasn’t the issue. It was just that his random kindness surprised you and totally caught you off guard.

,,Thank you again, Mr. Snape. That’s too kind of you.“ His tension eased and he took a deep breath.

,,My name is YN, by the way. YN YLN.“ You added before taking another sip. This Tea was terribly sweet. You preferred black tea to be honest but at this moment everything was perfect.

,,Severus. My Name is Severus.“ Smiling you ate the last spoonful of Soup before sitting back again.

,,Would you mind if I use your Bathroom before I leave?“

,,Leave? I thought you lost your keys?“ His Surprise was clearly to see.

,,Well, yes. I still need to find a place for tonight. I thought about staying at my working place that should be fine.. I guess.“ Your insecurity was clearly visible.

,,You can stay here.“ Scratching his throat he looked at you. ,,If you want to, of course.“ There was something in the way he looked at you, you knew he cared. And you’re not gonna lie, you weren’t hyped up about walking back all the way into the city just to maybe get into the crappy Cafe. Severus seemed trustworthy enough to stay the night, you told yourself and instantly hoped so.

,,Thank you again.“ Breathing out you felt release on your chest. The Ribs still hurt but the psychic stress eased a bit up. Thankfully for his offer you took off your jacket. Your skin wasn’t as cold as early anymore. Severus guided you to the Bathroom down the floor and could finally inspect your wounds on your ribs. Closing the door you quickly pulled up the shirt from the side only to reveal dark purple skin. ,,Shit.“ It was worse than you anticipated. Pulling your shirt back down again you now inspected your arms. You were okay. After the Holidays you should seek a Doctor but for now you couldn’t do anything but try to ignore this huge bruise. After using the Toilet you tried to wash your face. There was still some dirt above your eyebrow but you couldn’t move down. The Pain took your breath away.

,,Is everything okay?“ You heard Severus asking from the outside of the door. Opening the door you smiled at him awkwardly. ,

,Yes, sorry for taking do long I was just trying to wash my face.“ Confused he nodded and walked into the Bathroom only to give you a washcloth and a towel. ,,Take your time.“ Deciding whether her whether not to tell him you gave in.

,,It’s not about that. I tried to do it in the sink but..“ You moved your shirt up so he could see the bruise which even led over to your Back. He scrunched his face in empathy. ,,From slipping on the Steps?“ He asked more silently. ,,Uh huh.“ He signed you to sit on the rim of the Bathtub. ,,Let me get something really quick.“ He mumbled as his tall legs carried him away fastly. Waiting for him you firstly noticed how simple his house was. He had almost no personal items standing around. - Is this a sign for someone to be a serial Killer or was he just a minimalist or something? Wondering about his Edgy Style you almost didn’t hear him coming back. Holding two vials in his hands he gave you the green one. ,,If you let a few drops run over the Bruise it’ll be gone almost instantly.“

Instantly? He must be very convinced of his little medicine slime. Not really convinced you just agreed and pulled your shirt up again. He watched you opening the vial. ,, A few drops would do it.“

,,Could you help me? I can’t raise my arm that high I guess.“ Shyly he firstly hesitated but then took the vial back in his big hand. You liked his hands. They matched him well. Tall, Slender but pretty- for hands.

,,Ready?“ He asked and you nodded to signal him to start. Seconds later you felt something dripping over your Bruise. Even this small contact hurt. A slight Burn was felt and then it vanished. Confused you looked down. The Bruise was gone. ,,How does this work? I don’t understand?“ Turning back to Severus you noticed how he just smiled simply.

,,I told you it works wonders.“ Getting up to look in the Mirror you inspected it closely. Even the Lotion vanished.

,,What is this?“ As you attempted to walk back to him you almost bumped into him but could stop a few centimetres away from him.

,,It’s Bruisewort Balm.“ His deep voice left goosebumps on your skin. Severus was confusing you but also in a good way. Where were your Thoughts again? Today was the worst day you had in years and now all you could think about this tall black haired man in front of you. You thought he was pretty when you saw him earlier but now he was way more attractive. ,,I can help you with your cut hand as well.“ You felt the vibrations of his chest against yours. Did you got closer? Were you imagining it? As you didn’t answer he gently took your Hand in his. Again he opened the small vial and let a few drops fall on the wound. Your eyes were locked with the sight of his eyes as you didn’t even cared what he did. ,

,Staring is not very polite.“ He said low looking back to you as he finished healing your hand. Blushing you tried to look at something else but him but couldn’t find anything but his chest. ,,I’m Sorry.“ His fingers now took your chin in his Hand. Making you look up at him again.

,,What’s on your mind?“ Was he serious? His eyes wanders over your face scanning for any bruises. Breathing heavier you tried to think of something to say. Saying ,You, Mr.´ would be inappropriate, would it? Raising his Eyebrow you wondered if you said that loud. Your chin still between his fingers he got a little bit closer to you.

,,Use your words.“  He said demanding in an almost growling tone. This whole Situation made your knees weak. How could this shy man turn into such a  demanding one so quickly? Your thoughts were now racing in an incredible speed. He demanded the Truth? He’ll get the Truth.

,,About you, Mr. Snape.“ Not knowing why you didn’t call him by his Forename you bit your lip. His eyes wandered down your face, following the movements of your lips only to look back into your eyes. His Hand wandered down your side only to remain above your hip. You knew too well how this would end or at least you hoped it would end the way you thought it would. Feeling him so close you wished for nothing more but to feel his lips on yours. Feel him touching the places that were longing for him so badly.

,,Tell me what you want to do, Y/N.“ He whispered in your ear now. ,,What you want me to do.“ He added as he placed a small kiss on your neck right under your ear. Your chest was rising even faster now. Did he knew which effects these words had on you? Impatiently you waited for him to kiss you again. It didn’t matter where. If it was your cheek, chest, neck or your lips. But you needed it now.

,,Kiss me.“ His eyes looked into yours again. He raised his other hand only to let his thumb brush over your lower lip. His eyes always stayed on you. Licking his lip he slightly shook his head.

,,You have to ask nicely.“ He teased and his hand which touched your lip made its way to your neck. He held you close and there was no where else you’d want to be right now.

,,Please. Kiss me, Please.“ Smirking he got so close you could feel his nose slightly touching your cheek.

,,How polite.“  Was the last mumble he let out before his rosy Lips carefully touched yours only to deepen the kiss a few seconds after. A small Moan left your mouth. Feeling his lips curling into another smile again you had to smile too. Your chest was tingling and your body felt burning. Burning for more but he only let go. Desperate for his touch you only watched him letting go of you. Did you do something wrong? His long statue left the Bathroom. You stood there frozen, this time it was a different type of frozen as earlier. Turning to the mirror you quickly checked your look. Your Pupils were widened, your lips plump and you felt like everyone could see what type of thoughts you have about this man right now. Not thinking twice you followed him. ,,Severus-“ but he sat on the Armchair again. With a Book in his hands he looked like this wasn’t just happening while you stood in the doorframe and your panties were soaked only because of him.  He didn’t even respond to you calling his name. Getting back on the couch you just looked at him.  How he turned the page of the green, golden book. How his eyes scanned the sentences. How his shoulders leaned against the soft cushion of the armchair.

,,Severus?“ You repeated hoping for any type of attention. He lowered the book and his eyes darted yours waiting for your Question.  ,,Why did you leave?“ He raised the book again and began to spoke. ,

,I don’t want you to regret this.“ Regret? You shook your head.

,,I won’t.“ As if he didn’t hear it he continued reading. ,,Also, I’m probably not your type.“ He talked about everything you had in mind like it was the weather.

,,I think you’re my type.“ Trembling you were just whispering. He lowered the Book again only to lay it in his lap. ,

,Do you even know what type I am talking about?“ ,,You mean .. demanding?“ Trying not to laugh he nodded. ,,Demanding.“ He agreed using the words you used.

,,Please.“ You pleaded. Severus did something to you you couldn’t explain.

,,If you really want this you have to follow orders.“ Blindly you’d agree to anything he’d say.

,,I will.“ The excitement inside of you grew. What was he going to do to you?

,,On your Knees then.“ He just said and watched you slide from the couch on your knees. Smirking he got up and got closer to you. ,,Look up.“ He wasn’t speaking nicely anymore. It was just demands. His Hand took your chin in his hand again. This time it was more harsh but it made you only wanting more. ,,If you want me to stop, you’ll ask me to stop by my forename. Only then it’s Severus to you. Until we’re done its Mr. Snape. Understand?“ Your Heart was almost jumping out of your chest. You could feel the impatience between your legs only grow.

,,Understood, Mr. Snape.“ His eyes looked up and down and you again.

,,Now get up again and tell me what you want me to do to you?“ Getting up you noticed his Bulge growing.

,,I- I“ you stuttered. His Eyebrow arched up. He waited for you patiently. ,,I want to please you, Mr. Snape.“

His strict expression always faded whenever you worded your wishes. Even if he knew what was on your mind he loved how shy you were about it. Sitting down on the couch he looked up and down on you again. He had to hold him together not to take out his dick and just fuck you mindlessly. But he just tapped on his lap. Y/N sat down on him instantly.

,,Good Girl.“ Mumbling he placed kissed down her neck again. Sloppy ones, the type that would leave marks. Again she began to moan. It was like music to his ears. Her beautiful voice longing for him to touch her more, give her more of him. His mouth wandered down towards her chest only to be stopped by the edge of her Pullover. ,,Arms up, Kitten.“  He pulled up her Pullover only to reveal a lace bra. A deep Moan he has been holding for a few moments now finally left his Throat. His Dick throbbed against the fabric of his trousers. She must’ve felt it as she began to slightly rub her hip against him. His Mouth connected itself with her chest again. Biting carefully, kissing softly. Taking her breasts in his hands, cupping them completely only to make her moan louder as he pinched her nipples through the thin white lace.

,,Take it off.“ Quickly she followed his orders.  He loved it whenever she’d do as he told her. Watching her revealing herself to him, grinding on his lap, slowly kneading her own breasts only for him to see he couldn’t help himself but thinking this must’ve been a dream. ,,YN, get up again.“ Her cheeks were so reed from all the stimulation she got from him, her eyes now wide open fearing she did something wrong. But as her shaking legs made her stand in front of Severus she knew she was more than just alright. His Hands wandered over her Breasts again. Pinching them, kissing them and letting his tongue slowly run over them. As his Mouth laid on one nipple his hand touched the other one. Whenever she moaned he would go harder, it would motivate him. Making him eager to bite lightly into them and then suddenly let go of her only to pull down her Jeans and make her undress completely for him. For his hungry eyes and dark thoughts. As her Panties hit the ground he could see how soaked they were. Quickly Severus pointed to the ground where she kneeled down again. He slowly opened the Button of his Pants. Pushing the clothes to his ankles he hissed as she without waiting or thinking about it begun to suck him off. Shyly she only took the Tip in at first. He gave her some Time but then carefully pressed her Head down further. He was already hard and had to take care that he wouldn’t cum right away. Her pretty eyes and the way she talked to him drove him crazy. Softly her tongue swirled around his member and it was too much for him. ,,Get on my lap again.“ Quickly she did as she was told only to slide down on his dick. ,,Ride it.“ Her innocent eyes could make him cum without she would have to touch him. Slowly she got up and down. YN´s Moaning was filling the room. Severus pinched her nipples again, her plump lips were almost begging to be kissed. She was a goddess. Without thinking about it he did it. Kissing her lips he felt like she was demanding now. He’d do anything for her at this point. Just the elegant way she rode his dick so well made him moan again.

,,Mr. Snape, I- I´m close.“ Huffing he looked her in the eyes again. ,,Close to what, baby? You need to use full sentences.“ She moaned even louder now. His Mouth again teasing her nipples. ,,I´m close- close to cum-m.“ He held her sides to guide her up and down by now. She was getting more and more exhausted. Her thrusts became more and more sloppy. ,,Then cum with me, will you?“ Y/N nodded.  ,,Yes, Mr. Snape.“ Her head hung on his shoulder as she was humming, making him hear her moans even closer and even more louder.  That was the last thing it took him to cum. Filling her up, closing his eyes enjoying the intimacy.  When they were done she didn’t got up instantly but waited a few seconds.

You felt his Arms holding you as his breathes hit your shoulder. Smiling you looked up at him again and pushed a few strains of hair out of his face. Daring to kiss him you felt so close to him, you never felt this intimacy before. It was a small but beautiful kiss before you slowly got up again and hurried to the bathroom to clean yourself. Severus instead just put on his Pants again and took off his long Pullover. There was no Time for that earlier. Smirking he walked into the kitchen so he could at least offer you a cup of tea.

,,You’re disgusting. Couldn’t you do that in your Bedroom?“ Lily grunted and made herself and Severus just laugh.

,,Oh shut it, Lily. You just could’ve changed the Painting. Now shh, Y/N´s coming back.“  She rolled her eyes and went back to her pose. Only to watch her best friend getting known to his future girlfriend.

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