#LOOK at me look at me grabs your shoulders. I hope the wings are appealing cuz they kinda hurt to do okay bye ily

[lancelotslair]

As previously seen incomplete on Swindle Swunday: dealing with Dragons :) (inspired n mimicking the cover of that book I saw) girlies plotting where to hide because they are enemies of multiple kingdoms <3 <3 <3

#art #maccadam #transformers #dragonformers #swindle #starscream #LOOK at me look at me grabs your shoulders. I hope the wings are appealing cuz they kinda hurt to do okay bye ily #technicallys they are sceathers not feathers but literally only I care

[tokkias]

Natsu being protective and going feral over Lucy is my favorite genre how about “Get behind me” and “When you love something, you protect it with your entire life at stake, and right now, my guts tell me to do the same.” from the prompt list

writing prompts . always open

sorry about whatever this is. happy nalu day. takes place in gmg future lucy's timeline cws: hurt/no comfort, major character death, canonical character death ao3

Lucy coughs and sputters and chokes on the dust and ashes that are kicked up into the air. It’s dark and gloomy, and the sky runs red like the blood that is spattered across rocks and buildings. The city is in ruins, buildings toppled over by the strong and ruthless wings of dragons that haunt the sky.

Her hand moves to her keys as her brain tries to make sense of it all, but she can’t, so instead she has to settle on making a choice—who is she going to send out next, if she can. She can’t summon Aquarius here, and she had just sent Loke back to tend to his wounds. With her most powerful spirits out of commision, her options are limited.

Taurus? Scorpio? Sagittarius?

Every option feels like a hopeless case when you’re fighting against a dragon.

With another shake of the earth, Lucy is thrown off balance, though she manages to catch herself just in time. It reminds her that time is running out and she needs to make a decision while she still can. Quickly, she moves to grab Taurus’s key and summon him, but she’s cut off by Natsu’s voice, booming loudly to ensure she can hear him.

"Get behind me!" He calls out, dashing in front of her just in time to tank an oncoming blast attack from the dragon circling above them.

"Natsu!" Lucy cries, abandoning all plans to run to her friend’s side and ensure he’s okay.

She catches him in her arms as he stumbles, though they both lose their balance and sink to the ground.

"I’m fine," he lies, blatant and to her face.

She knows he’s not fine. She hadn’t known where he had been fighting before, but she did know that he wasn’t in a condition to keep going. But that was just Natsu. He wasn’t about to give up until he had seen his job through, and today, that job was to slay a dragon.

Any effort she’s about to make to convince him to find help, to let her handle this while he recovers goes unsaid as he places a hand on her shoulder and uses the leverage to push himself up. She wants to protest, to remind him that if he can barely stand, then he has no right trying to fight a dragon that barely has a scratch on it, but he’s already on his feet, ready to take it on.

"Natsu, please!" She calls out, trying to appeal to his senses. "You can't—you can’t!"

She’s never failed to believe in him up until now, and secretly, a part of her still wants to believe in him—wants to believe that Natsu is going to be their saviour, just like he always has been, but every other part of her reminds her how fruitless it is. They have seven dragon slayers and a fleet of dragons that are ravaging the town, and there is no hope left.

If they run, maybe they’ll make it out okay, but she knows Natsu has no intention of running, and she knows that ultimately, that’s what is going to get him killed.

"Lucy, I need you to run," he tells her, his back facing her as he looks up into the sky and formulates his plan.

It’s not a request; it’s a demand, but she has no intention of following through.

"I’m not going anywhere!" She cries out. She can’t, in good conscience, leave him alone to die. "If you’re staying here, then I’m going to fight with you!"

"You can’t!" He barks back.

His voice has a bite to it that makes her flinch. Natsu has never yelled at her before now, and she knows he’s not trying to hurt her, but it stings. It stings that he yells, but more importantly, it stings knowing that he won’t let her stay by his side.

"If you stay out here, you’re gonna die, and I’m not going to let that happen."

"And what about you! You want me to just leave you here to die by yourself?"

She wants to hear him deny it, to promise her that he will make it out alive and come back to her, but it seems as though he has already accepted the same fate she has.

When he turns back to face her, she can see the hurt glimmer in his eye. He doesn’t want this just as much as she doesn't, but she knows that if only one of them has to die, he doesn’t want it to be her.

"When you love something, you protect it with your entire life at stake, and right now, my gut is telling me to do the same."

Her lip quivers and tears start to prick the corners of her eyes, but she furiously blinks them away in an attempt to keep her composure. She wants to think there’s another timeline, another universe, where he’s saying those words to her—a universe where death isn’t imminent and she can grab his face and kiss him senseless.

Because he loves her, and by god, she’s been waiting to hear him say it for longer than she would like to admit, but she doesn’t even get to revel in the fact, and part of her wants to resent him for it. She wants to resent him for the fact that he’s so stubborn and headstrong. She wants to resent him for the fact that she knows nothing is going to stop him from getting himself killed if it means just a few more seconds for everyone else.

He’s always been a hero like that, and it would be a fitting end for him, but it’s not one Lucy wants to see.

"Lucy, I need you to get out of here," he repeats, as a fearsome roar fills the air from overhead.

She has so much to say to him—so much she should have told him before now, before their time was cut short—but they get stuck in her throat and die on her tongue.

And it just isn’t fair.

They’ve done nothing to deserve this.

Right now, they should be celebrating their victory at the games; they should be partying, and drinking, and getting loud and rowdy, just like Fairy Tail always does. She and Natsu should be sharing indirect kisses on the rim of champagne glasses as they yearn and pine with the knowledge that they still can, because they’re young, and in love, and have their whole lives ahead of them to put a label on what they have.

Instead, they’re stuck saving the world—an obligation they never signed up for but is stuck on their shoulders nonetheless, and Lucy hates it. She hates that Natsu is about to sacrifice himself for something so futile. She hates that her Natsu is about to become just another number on the ever-growing toll of dead.

If she can just convince him to run with her, then maybe there’s a possibility of a future together. A future where they can live in peace together, where maybe she can get a new guild mark, where he will hold her hand, and things would just be okay.

"Please," her voice cracks, and any attempt to hold back the tears fails her. "Run with me."

"I’m sorry, Lucy," he says, and the words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do. "I’ve gotta see this one through."

Anything else he wants to say is cut off when one of the dragons lands and shakes the earth around them, letting out a deafening roar that had Lucy clutching her hand over one of her ears to try to make any attempt to stifle the noise.

"Run!" Natsu yells out, his voice so sharp that it hurts her ears. "You gotta live, Lucy! Please!"

His words hurt like a knife straight through her heart because she doesn’t want to live if living meant being in a world without him. She doesn’t even want to think about the prospect of never being able to see his smile again or feel his touch. She doesn’t want to be deprived of his laughter, of all the joy that he brings to her life.

There was no life without him. The concept was completely unfathomable. There was no Lucy without Natsu by her side, because without him, she wouldn’t be the person she is today.

She doesn’t hold back her sobs and her wails any longer. She’s already grieving, even though he’s standing right in front of her, because she knows that it won’t last much longer. He’s looking at her with a determined gaze, but she can see right through his façade. She can see the sadness that lingers in them because this isn’t what he wants.

He doesn’t want her to cry, but more than that, she doesn’t want to lose her life because she was sobbing over him. He doesn’t want to be the one who holds her back and gets her killed.

"Please Lucy!" He repeats, and this time she hears the faint crack in his voice.

Lucy plants her hand over her mouth to hold back the wails she knows she’ll let out if she doesn't, because she only has two options. The first is to stay, to die with him together, and the second is to run, to carry out his final wish.

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to run. But he’s begging her. It’s the last thing he wants of her.

And so she does. Because she can’t bear to die prematurely knowing that the one thing he wanted from her was to live.

With tears in her eyes, Lucy nods before she clambers to her feet. She doesn’t say anything before she dashes off—a decision she knows she’s going to regret for the rest of her life, no matter how long it is.

There’s no reason to hold back her tears now. She lets them fall freely as she howls and wails. The sound of her anguish is not out of place in a town turned to rubble that is full of nothing but misery and loss.

She resists turning around and looking at her love one last time, not sure if she can handle the pain of knowing it will be the last time she sees him alive.

As she clambers over a rupture in the asphalt, Lucy can only hope that someday, in another life, they will find each other and they will have the happy ending that they deserve.

#nalu #fairy tail #fan fiction #nalu day #mya writes things #hand slipped and i killed natsu

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?

“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.

He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.

She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.

Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.

“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.

“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”

Jason stopped his kissing.

“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.

But she didn’t really care.

Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.

Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.

“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”

“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.

“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”

Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.

No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.

“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.

Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.

Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.

“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.

Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.

But how could he not?

The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.

Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.

“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”

“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.

Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.

But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.

Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.

“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.

Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”

But she opened her mouth to give another warning.

“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”

Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.

“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

————

Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.

Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.

“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.

She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.

“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.

That’s when it clicked.

Y/N had a hickey on her neck.

“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.

Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.

To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”

It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.

But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.

When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn’t notice.

Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.

After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.

“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.

“Who cares?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”

“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.

Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”

“Obviously.”

“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”

“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.

She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.

—————

Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.

“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”

“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.

Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.

Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”

“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.

“Thank you.”

“Arrives in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.

“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.

She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.

“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”

“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.

Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.

For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.

“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.

It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.

“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.

“Jason…” she warned.

But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.

Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.

Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”

Jason smirked. “And Damian.”

Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.

There stood Batman and Robin.

Tonight was just not her night.

“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.

“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.

“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.

Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”

“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.

“So…go find him,” Jason replied.

“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”

Bruce just nodded.

Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.

“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.

Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.

“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”

Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.

He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.

"And be nice to Damian."

"Never."

Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.

“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.

Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.

Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”

Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it!!!

#father of mine #father of mine bonus content #Jason Todd x reader #jason todd x tall!reader #Bruce Wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #damian wayne x sister #batboys #batfam

[tearsofellen]

One Way or Another (yandere!Dabi x f!Reader)

Pairing: Yandere!Dabi x f!Reader, Hawks x f!Reader

Synopsis: Being a doctor at the hero hospital is stressful enough. However, what happens when your beloved friend Hawks begins to take a liking to you? And what if he isn’t the only one who has his eye on you? An evil Dabi starts to fall for you immensely after one dark night. Nothing can hold him back from his urge to have you.

Part 1 / ?

Words: 3.5k

Warning: This story will eventually have mentions of stalking, violence, gore, language, and hard smut. Viewer’s discretion is advised.

________________________________________________________________

The sounds of birds tweeting filled your ears. Today your bed seemed just that more comfortable as the sunlight dripped though your curtains. The sound of the traffic in your city was at a minimum as you sighed into your pillow. Finally, a day off from work. This week had kicked your ass hard. Your job at the Hero hospital was a privilege and a burden. While you were one of a very small group who could treat and aid the top heroes, it was a very stressful job. The hours weren’t exactly nine to five and some nights you were heading home with your head low in complete exhaustion. However, you still loved your job. You had a great sense of pride knowing that you could give back to the heroes who protected you and everyone around you. 

But today is your day off.  You knew how to separate your job and your personal life.  You lay in bed thinking of what you planned to do with your free time.  Your kitchen could do with a cleaning, but the idea of sitting on the couch watching bad reality television sounded more appeasing to you. You smiled into your pillow, finally a day to relax and do absolutely nothing.

Then your phone buzzed.

You opened one eye to see your boss’ caller ID on your screen. You grabbed the phone from your nightstand and reluctantly answered. Before you could even say hello, the sound of your boss yelling over the phone broke the silence in your room.

"_______ get in here now we need you!"

 With your shoelaces undone and a piece of toast in your mouth, you dashed outside of your apartment with your work bag tossed on your back. Your boss informed you of a villain attack in the city centre which caused some heroes to be injured. Fire injuries were your specialty, so you were called immediately. Your legs were running to the train station, hoping not to miss the train to the hospital and having to wait another ten minutes for the next train.

While you were fixing your tie around your neck, your eyes caught sight of a small red object flying across in front of you. After a small moment of confusion, you heard the sound of wings flapping behind you and immediately knew who it was.

"Hey hey hey, didn’t know you were into running these days ______?"

You scoffed, swallowing the last bit of your toast as you dodged hitting into a random person in the street.

"Not now Hawks" You yelled up at him. "I’m running late."

Hawks. Number 2 Hero. You both met each other when he had only just graduated from this hero training. He survived a nasty attack from a villain, resulting in his feathers being pretty damaged. You were the one who took care of him and patched him up.  He was in the hospital for two days straight and most of that time was spent with you monitoring his health. His determination to become a top hero and his snarky charisma allow you two to immediately have a connection. After he was discharged, he still kept in contact with you and now he could consider you one of his closest friends. Till this day, he is forever grateful for you helping him, but these days teasing you seems more fun to him.

The man was now gliding alongside you, clearly mocking your lack of speed.

"Why am I not surprised?" He chuckled, eyeing you.

You sent him a stern glare. Unfortunately, you could not argue with him and run at the same time without losing your breath.

"You know, sweetheart, the train is about to leave in a minute, and unless you just gained a speed quirk, chances are you're not going to make it," he teased.

You held your tongue at his words. When you first told him you didn’t have a quirk, he thought you were joking and laughed in your face. Needless to say, you weren’t too happy about that. So whenever he sees the chance, he always enjoys pointing it out.

Hawks continued to fly beside you, now sighing and crossing his arms behind his head.

"Only if you knew someone who could get you to the hospital in time." He groaned.

He raised his eyebrow at you. You knew what he was trying to imply. Your stomach immediately started to do flips at the thought of it. You hated heights and Hawks knew this about you. But he also knows about how much your work matters to you.

You eyed your watch on your wrist, already you were ten minutes late. You glanced down to see Hawks’ red feathers tying your shoelaces. You finally stopped running and stood trying to catch your breath.  You ignored the rational thoughts in your head and returned back to glare at Hawks.

"I swear Hawks if you do anything funny." You sneered at him.

His face immediately lit up with glee and a smirk spread across his face.

"Trust me _____. It will be like floating on a cloud. " He reassured you by putting his hand on his heart.

"Just don’t throw up on me again." He hushed quickly. 

Before you even had time to swear at him, he whooshed behind you and lifted you up in his arms. You immediately let out a squeak in fear, earning a laugh from Hawks. Your hands gripped his neck and your body tensed up as you both started to rise to the sky. You both were now above the skyscrapers and the whole city seemed so small. It was truly breath taking and you wondered if Hawks ever just spent his days looking down at the city.  

You cast a quick glance down at the people who had turned into ants. Your stomach dropped and you turned your face into hawks’ chest for the rest of the journey to avoid throwing up.

"You can look up now doll."

You cranked your head to see if Hawks was telling the truth. You were relieved to see that his feet were touching the ground. He had landed on the hospital roof, a perfect spot.

"Nice landing" you jerked at him.

"You’re welcome Miss." He said, rolling his eyes.

You hopped out of his arms and stood attempting to fix yourself up before you entered the hospital. You could tell the wind messed up your hair quite a bit.

"You look fine ____."

Now you were the one to roll your eyes. Last time he said that you walked into your meeting with your lipstick smeared across your face.

"Shouldn’t you have been helping save your colleagues from that villain attack?"

"Had to make sure my _____ was safe first." Hawks was always skilled at avoiding questions he didn’t want to answer. You chalked it up to his media training.

You made your way to the door leading down to the hospital as soon as you felt you had put yourself together decently. Hawks' mouth dropped at your actions. He flew to block the door to prevent you from leaving.

"Nothing else you want to say?" He pestered at you. "No thank you, hawks or hawks; you are my hero; you are incredible?"

He really made a poor impression of you.

"Thank you, Hawks. Now shove it. " You snapped thinking of the time you are wasting with him up here. Your words, however, did not convince the young hero.

"How about takeaway and a movie at your place?" He questioned.

"Did you just invite yourself over to my place?" You sneered at him; your arms now crossed.

"Is it a deal?" He spoke. You were beginning to realise that there was no way hawks was going to let you though unless you said yes. You both haven’t done anything together in a while, you thought to yourself.

"Deal." You nodded.

Hawks’ feathers fluttered and he busted into a sing-song voice.

"Perfect! I’ll buy the food and you can pick the movie. Bye _____! " He yelled, tossing himself over the building as he flew away into the clouds.

Your mouth dropped at how he was able to make you agree to invite him over to your house within a minute. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you pushed the door open to enter the hospital.

As you entered your unit of the hospital, your boss was stood there waiting for you and your co-workers busily hurrying around.

"Look who finally decided to turn up."

You did your best not to glare at him.  You apologised profusely about being late to him and how it wouldn’t happen again.

"I heard she was seen with her boyfriend Hawks" A staff member piped up with a sneer.

You cringed at her words and her attempt to cause drama in front of your boss. Hawks is many things, but your boyfriend is definitely not one of them. 

"He is not my boyfriend. He was helping me to work. " You defended yourself. 

"I don’t want to hear anymore of the bird boy. Get working now _____. " Your boss yelled. 

You gave a low nod and immediately jumped into work, making your way over to your first patient.

 _______________________________________________________________

When you actually finished with the last patient, you had no idea what time it was. You gathered your belongings and exited the building, only to find the city engulfed in darkness. You sighed, your shoulders heavy from fatigue. The thought of a relaxing bath and a comfortable bed appealed to you. You checked your phone to find that the train station had closed long ago. Your eyes darted across the street for a taxi, but you had no luck. Walking it was, you thought.

You tried your best to stick to bright lit areas of the city. It was one of the disadvantages of being quirkless, you were practically defenceless. If a villain wanted to kill you, they would have no problem with doing it. That is why you prefer to work behind the scenes helping the heroes rather than being at the front of the violence.

Your walking stopped as you reached an alleyway. You debated or not if you should enter it. If you stuck to the bright areas, you wouldn’t reach your apartment for another fifteen minutes. However, if you went down this dark alleyway it would only take you five minutes. You stood listening for any noise to indicate if there was anyone down the dark path. After standing in silence, you made the decision to chance it. You took a breath and made your way down the narrow street.

All was well and you finally started to calm down as you walked. You thought of what leftovers you had in your fridge to eat when you heard the noise of glass breaking behind you. Your blood turned to ice as your body froze into place. When you looked to the source of the racket, a single drop of sweat ran down your brow.

A man with his head hanging low sat beside one of the big trash bins. You quickly realised the man wasn't all there when he didn't acknowledge you as you walked by. Your brain was screaming at you to keep walking. Your heart and morals, on the other hand, told you to check on the man's safety. You bit your lower lip, carefully weighing your options. Your morals came out on top.

"Sir?" you asked.

You were met with silence since the man did not respond. As you got closer, it became clear that the man was in pain. When you were within arm’s reach, you cautiously put your hand on the individual's neck to check for a pulse. Fortunately, it was at a consistent rate. You now knelt beside him. You tapped his shoulder lightly. Finally, the man let out a groan. You breathed a sigh of relief.

You gently pushed his head back, allowing you to see his face in the moonlight. You immediately noticed the faulty stitching and staples all around his face and body. The damaged deep purpled skin contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His eyelids hung low, but the brightness of the moon resulted in the stranger opening his eyes halfway. You were almost in shock at his bright blue eyes as they stared into yours.

"Am I dreaming?" He mumbled painfully.

You shook your head as you examined his body.

"What is the problem sir?" You questioned.

He sent a sly grin at you. Your concern was able to amuse the man. His finger weakly pointed at his opposite arm. One of the stitches on his arm had obviously ripped open and blood was steadily pouring out and onto the dirty ground.

You stared at the wound for a moment and considered if he needed to be taken to the hospital.

Almost as if he were reading your mind, he said, "No hospitals."

You chose not to question him and began to act on your feet. You removed your bag from your back and pulled out your first aid kit and some tools you used at work. You began to place a thread into your incision needle and prepared the medical stapler for use.

You could sense his apprehensiveness as he eyed your needle.

"Trust me sir, I’m a doctor." You explained to him.

"You'd better cut the sir crap; you're making me feel like an old man." He laughed lightly,

Feeling like you were getting somewhere with him, you continued the conversation. 

"Do you have a name?" You asked, hoping to distract him from the pain about to happen.

The man had a slight hesitation as his name fell from his mouth.

"Dabi."

You placed some hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball as you continued to talk to him.

"You have a lovely name, Dabi."

"I bet you say that to all your patients."

You smiled at his words and you placed the cotton on his wound. He immediately tensed up and hissed in pain as the alcohol did its job.

"I can promise you I don’t, Dabi." His name fell off your lips with such ease.

After you felt the wound was disinfected, you grabbed the needle and began to stitch his skin together. Dabi was now sat up straight admiring your concentration with the needle. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared for him like this.

"Did you get caught up in that villain attack this morning? “You asked him.

Dabi's mouth turned into a smirk, "I guess you can say I was."

"I bet it was scary," you said.

Dabi raised his eyebrow at you. "Do I look like the sort of person who gets scared?"

You took your attention from his wound and looked at his unamused face. You giggled slightly at his expression.

"You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone. " You teased him.

He chuckled at your humour. You really did do a good job at distracting him from the pain.

"Those villains are pieces of shit, aren’t they?" He said, hoping for your opinion.

As you took the stapler in your hand, you moved on to the staples of the wound.

"Hmm, I don’t know if I would say that." You mentioned focusing on placing the stapler in the right position on his skin.

"What? You side with the League of Villains? " Dabi pried at you, staring at you with interest.

"Not exactly." You explained, "I believe a lot of the villains didn’t exactly have a choice of which side they wanted to be on. Also, working with Heroes, you begin to see that quirks determine what society thinks of you. If you don’t have a quirk, then you must be useless. If you have a dangerous quirk, then you are destined to be a villain. I find it all very frustrating if I am honest. "

Dabi listened intently to your rambling. It was nice to see someone agree with some of his opinions. You were obviously very intelligent. As you continued to work on his arm, he made note of your face and its beauty.

As you had just finished the last staple, you asked him, "Did you patch your skin up yourself?"

"Yeah, I did. I prefer to do it my own way because the majority of my skin is brunt to a crisp.” He explained.

"You have a fire quirk?"

He nodded as your eyes moved across his body to look at his skin. Your eyes finally meet his face. Without even thinking, you reached your hand out to cup in check and brushed your thumb along the staples in his face.

Dabi let out a small gasp. It had been a while since someone had touched him. You finally realised what you did and immediately yanked your hand away from him and stood up, hoping he wouldn’t see you blush in embarrassment.

"I’m really sorry Dabi" you said, putting your face in your hand, "I’ve just never seen anyone with a fire quirk like this."

He smiled at your embarrassment.

"Don’t worry. There is no need to be sorry. I didn’t mind it. " He reassured you.

You sighed and reached a hand out to help him up off the ground.

As he towered over your frame, you suddenly realised how tall he was in comparison to you. As soon as you realised your work was done, you let his hand out of yours.

"Well Dabi" you said, "I guess I better be heading home."

"Thank you" was all he said.

While your arms hugged you around your stomach, his deep blue gaze on you made you feel even more insecure.

"Are you going to be okay?" You asked him.

A small smile was on his face.

"Don’t worry about me."

You nodded to let him know you understood.

"Then I better go." You said, turning away from him.

Before Dabi could open his mouth to say anything to you, a black car drove into the alleyway with a large honk of its horn.  The tinted window rolled down the slightest bit and a voice called out Dabi’s name.

"That’s my ride," Dabi explained.

He didn't want to abandon you in the dark, but he also knew that you getting into the car would be impossible.

"Well take care Dabi", You said your last words and turned the corner away from him and the car.

You knew that it wouldn’t have been a good idea if you stayed any longer. You did your duty and left without anything else occurring. You had visions of the man’s blue eyes and face. You could tell from his body and face he was probably conventionally attractive before his burn scars. You ignored the flutters you had in your stomach as you took the stairs up to your apartment floor.

After entering the code to your apartment, you quickly tossed your bag to the floor and threw your jacket off. You sighed with relief to finally be home alone. Peace and quiet was the thing you needed after your long day.

"Finally home sweetheart?"

When you saw the man behind you holding a plate of takeaway sushi, you shrieked and nearly fell to the floor in shock.

"Hawks you little-!"

________________________________________________________________

Dabi threw up his hands in frustration as he approached the LOV's hideout. He completely forgot to ask for your name. After you had taken care of his injuries, the very least he could do was ask for your name.

He sighed and sat on the grimy couch. His thoughts returned to the events of your and his meeting. He was still bewildered that you chose to help a random stranger in the dark. Dabi knew that if it hadn't been for you, he would have bled out until he passed out and died. His fingertips traced the stitching on his arm that you had done. It was noticeably better done than his own work.

"What are you smiling about?" Toga spoke up, breaking Dabi of his thoughts.

His face immediately dropped, and he muttered a nothing. Toga shrugged off his reply and reached for the TV remote. The sound of the TV made Dabi’s head throb, so he stood up and headed out of the room to find somewhere more peaceful to rest for the night.

"What was the situation like in the hospital tonight Doctor?" the interviewer asked.

"Well, I would personally like to thank the heroes who were able to transport the citizens and other heroes who were harmed in the attack to the hospital so quickly."

The sound of your voice echoing throughout the room made Dabi freeze in place. He turned around to face the TV and ordered Toga to turn up the volume.

Dabi barely heard your voice as he continued to stare in a trance at your lovely face.

"We would like to thank you and your unit for all your help today. We are all grateful. " The interview told you.

You nodded and smiled at the camera as you wished everyone well.

Your name suddenly appeared at the bottom of the screen.

"Doctor _____ ______"

Dabi's face lit up with a big grin, and he couldn't help but laugh. He figured it wouldn't be that difficult to find you after all.

#bnha #bnha smut #bnha imagine #hawks #dabi #yandere dabi #yandere hawks #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader x dabi #yandere #hawks smut #dabi smut #stalker #stalker dabi #dabi is a huge creep #anime #anime smut #dabi edit #mha #mha smut #tw dubcon #mha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere mha #smut #tw noncon #yandere touya #bnha headcanons #yandere imagines

[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

#walkerbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #afgbingo #walker x reader #cordell x reader #fake dating #slow burn #walker fic #jared padalecki

[gaitwae]

"I would rather die a thousand times;" with loki please?

Warnings: argument, hurt/comfort, cringey crying, ambiguous ending.

Summary: You decided to ask Loki if the two of you could ever have a romantic relationship. Loki, who knows this question might be from some weird Midgardian infatuation instead, gets defensive.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter  @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @lokis-high-priestess @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz

Happy ending! I’m sorry for the (mostly) angst!

+-+--

The sun sank low beneath the horizon long before Loki had said a word. You were biting at your nails silently. The god was yet to make his decision. Time dragged on and on, ticking along with the clock on the mantle. The sound it made was horrendous. The sound of silence would have been worse. You wanted an answer, but it would take years and years before the two of you could reach an agreement. 

You just wanted to know if there was a possibility.

“Loki?” you whispered. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“Hmm?” Loki picked up his head and faced you. He had that sad look in his eyes, again, his fingers curling nervously. “Oh, yes,” he said quietly. “I was still thinking, Y/N, I apologize.” He pulled his hands over his knees, then back over his thighs. “You really think that he’s out there, don’t you?”

“Who?” you asked, knowing exactly what he was referring to. You didn’t want to give in to his let-down — not when you still had some shred of honor left. You found your feet very appealing, suddenly. 

“That man; the ‘One,’ you’ve called him.” Loki heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. He wiped his face. Your heart plummeted. Dipped. Your belly was set ablaze and your eyes felt scratchy. You knew what was coming. “Listen, I don’t know if we’d ever be… together, but I would feel much better if I knew your ‘One’ was still searching for you, too.”

“Loki,” you pleaded, “that isn’t fair.” You swallowed the tears down — if you cried now, it would show how weak you were — how much you relied on him. He would be scared off, wouldn’t he? Would he lose respect for you? Would he despise you? What would be the outcome? What would happen? “That’s not fair at all…”

“No, it isn’t,” he conceded. He turned his head away from you. You knew he couldn’t handle your tears well. His voice raised slightly as he continued, “But asking such a fragile question isn’t fair to me, is it?”

You felt the tears slip down. You wiped them away quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Loki…”

“Is it?” he snapped, causing you to jump. “Did you have to ask now, Y/N? Did you have to let your emotions get the better of you when we’re trying to escape this blasted planet?” With each word, more rage slipped into his voice, his tone, his whole manner. He was furious with you. You had upset him.

“Loki, I —” 

“Asking me to be your partner is out of the question! I would be dead first, Y/N! The situation we’re in, the pressure we’re under, I would rather die a thousand times than put our lives at risk for your silly fantasy!” He threw his hands down. You didn’t remember them flying so high. “Dying like a hero is far better than dying to protect your flimsy, mortal heart.” His chest peaked, then fell harshly. “You change so frequently; I’m surprised you even figured out that you wanted me. Perhaps it’s the thrill of danger, yes? The possibility of becoming a legend? An idol? Or is that too much glory for you? Are you hoping for rescue? To be saved like you had been taught from so young?”

You couldn’t speak. You didn’t move. You didn’t know how; after all, you hadn’t really been on the receiving end of his scolding. Well, that wasn’t really scolding. That was just… degrading. He was insulting you, peeling away your confidence layer by layer with a steady glare. He was angry — no, he was embarrassed — at your query. If you knew he would react this way, you would have sewn your own lips shut. You thought you could trust him. You wanted to trust him. You wanted that more than anything.

“You’re being cruel,” you pushed out. “You have no idea what I want.”

“I know you’re a small, witless child,” he growled. Loki stood from his seat. You ducked your head and stared at your knuckles. He grabbed your chin, jerking your face up without hurting you. “You’re simply an… an insect in the grand scheme of things who imagines greatness for yourself. I’m something you haven’t attained, that you haven’t experienced. You don’t want me for who I am, but rather what. Y/N, you’re a dreamer. That is why you follow me. Yes?” The god’s eyes searched yours with a frantic need. You clenched your jaw, removing his hand from your face. 

You said nothing.

“Answer me,” he spat. He dropped his arms, spreading his legs apart in a warrior’s stance. He was battling this topic more than you had imagined. Unless you were seeing things, Loki’s blue eyes were shining. His lips were tight against each other. Why was he losing his temper so? “Answer!” 

You kept your eyes focused on his; you wouldn’t say anything, you couldn’t, your tongue wouldn’t let you. Your knees shook. Your hands tingled. Your cheekbones tingled, too. Your throat hurt. Your nose burned. The longer Loki saw your tears, the wetter his own orbs became. Your body hadn’t racked with sobs yet, but they were waiting to erupt any moment. 

“Why could you possibly want a relationship with me, Y/N? I’m not yours to study, to toy with. Greatness cannot be the basis of love.” He looked between you and the door. His escape was too far away. The confrontation was hurting far too much — it was evident, written all over his face. “You can’t love me. Why would you?”

“Because you’re a hero,” you whispered. Your eyes followed him, but your limbs disobeyed every order to stand, to turn away, and walk out the door. Your last chance to spare your own feelings was slipping through the door. “If you weren’t, I would have been gone long before asking the question.”

“So… it is greatness,” he said quietly. “You want the persona.” He sniffed sharply, settling back into his chair. He raked his hands through his hair, once, twice, three times. He couldn’t sit still, but you still couldn’t move. “Not… me.” He wiped under his eye with his thumb. Finally, you understood why Loki was so offended by your question.

After all, who could ever love a man if he was a concept? What woman was loved wholly when the world focused on her beauty?

Your own heart shattered as you watched his crumble. Before you understood what was happening, you stood and walked to the prince. The forgotten prince. The prodigal son who had been thrown away, cast aside, and crushed like a cigarette under a boot. Once a bright flame, but quickly reduced to dying embers. Oh, and you had the nerve to ask him if there was a possibility of having his heart… you were like a child asking to hold something frustratingly delicate. 

You held his head, petting his hair for him. Your lip wobbled, as did Loki’s. He shook his head with agony. He buried his face in your body, clinging onto your hips with arms wrapped tight. You kept running your fingers on his head, scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. His arms shook against your person. He tugged you between his knees to grip you better.

“I love you,” your voice came, echoing the ringing thought in your nearly empty mind. “I would love you even if you weren’t a god; I would love you if you lived under a bridge and smoked gasoline.” You tried for some humor. Loki’s fingers dug into your shirt. “Your greatness comes from your heart, Loki. Isn’t that what matters? Your heart?”

His shoulders jerked forward, the pace faster and faster as a heart-wrenching noise escaped from him. You tightened your grip on him. His sobs kept coming, over and over and over. They weren’t loud —  they sounded more like whimpers than anything else. It didn’t mean that the sound wasn’t enough to tear someone’s soul in half. It was tearing your soul in half. Seeing him like this… you didn’t know what to do other than to be his anchor. This was so unlike Loki; at the same time, this was Loki. 

This was every piece of hurt he had been holding onto for who knows how long. You had just found the weak spot in his armor. Loki loved you deeply and you could care less if it was platonic or romantic. Your stupid selfishness had caused a breakdown… 

Yet, it was healthy. He needed this. He needed this. 

You didn’t need an answer tonight. You didn’t need an answer for a while. 

This was more important. You’d rather die a thousand times than walk out on him in a moment of need.

The clock passed midnight long before Loki calmed. By the time he had stopped making that tear-jerking sound, the clock was seconds away from chiming. When he stopped shaking, it was almost one o’clock in the morning. You had moved to sit next to him then. Loki rested his head on your chest and shoulder. The only words spoken were your affirmations and your coos. For the Norns’ sakes, the crying was awkward; just by the way he stared off into space, you could tell he wouldn’t want to talk about this.

Ever.

“I’m sorry,” he said once it was over. “That wasn’t very… very heroic of me, was it? He laughed sourly. You continued to stroke his hair. “I wail like an infant and you’re still here…”

“I thought it was very brave,” you said honestly. “Breaking down in front of someone who might not truly love you? I’d just run away and hide.”

“You’re pushing it,” he mumbled, deadpan. “If this was me years ago, I don’t suppose I would have even let you see me like that. I would rather be dead, first.”

“I’m glad we solved something, tonight,” you told the giant in your arms. “But next time, I think we should talk about it slowly.”

“Agreed.” Loki closed his eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, you’re excused,” you yawned. The clock ticked quietly. It was like a lure to sleep. You felt safe, squished in this seat with Loki. 

If someone wanted to take you from Loki, you’d have to be dead first.

#gaitwae writes #loki #marvel #mcu #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x y/n #loki mcu #mcu loki #loki x you #loki angst #loki hurt/comfort

[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid! 

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask. 

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink. 

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him. 

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.” 

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look. 

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss. 

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him. 

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure. 

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair. 

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you. 

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected. 

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney. 

Zsasz couldn’t look away. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring��you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough. 

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh. 

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away. 

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!”  as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more. 

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly. 

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled. 

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile. 

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead. 

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully. 

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience. 

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves. 

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head. 

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way. 

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss. 

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now. 

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself. 

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh. 

“He loved it,” you grinned. 

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face. 

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze. 

You could see Zsasz in the mirror. 

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him. 

 You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman. 

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie. 

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked. 

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm. 

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways. 

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable. 

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior. 

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too. 

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said. 

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped. 

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man. 

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest. 

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse. 

#victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #dceu #dceu imagine #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #gotham #chris messina imagine

[harrytpotter]

A Dangerous Bet — Chapter One.

Plot: A big change can make a person do crazy things. Take on dangerous bets. And that’s exactly what Y/N and Sirius Black did. Can a random and thoughtless occasion completely change two people’s lives?

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Sexual content.

A/N: And here is my newest series, this time starring Hogwart’s ultimate heartbreaker Sirius Black! My original plan was to make the Reader house-neutral but for the sake of the story, I decided it would be better if she too belonged to Gryffindor. Hope you guys like it! :) ps: it’s unrevised because I’m lazy sooo I’m sorry for the probable grammar mistakes.

It’s always an unsettling feeling to go through a massive change. When something you thought would last forever just ends suddenly. When you realize it was all just a big lie. You feel like a complete fraud. Frustrated. Cheated on by the universe. And that was exactly how you were feeling. Like a big fat deception.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius’ voice popped into your ear, his mouth clung to it so you could hear him through the loud music that echoed in the common room. You realized you had been staring at the void, lost in your thoughts.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But if I had to choose a word to define it, I’d go with relief,” you screamed into his ear, a dose of firewhisky in your hand.

“That’s actually the last one that I’d ever think of,” he laughs. “Why is that?”

You started answering him, but Sirius shook his head and pointed negatively to his ear, letting you know that he couldn’t hear a thing. Pulling you by the hand, Sirius led you out of the party that was happening at full-force inside the Gryffindor tower. Once the two of you reached the hallway, he leaned against the wall and waited for you to answer his previous question.

“I don’t know, I just... think we’ve been together for this long because we were used to each other, it was...”

“Commonplace?” He completed the sentence for you. “I always thought you deserved better anyway.”

“Says the guy who’s with a different girl every week,” you joked, rolling your eyes at him.

“Ouch!” He laughed and scrunched in mock offense. “I know I’m one to talk, but you’re one of my best friends, L/N. I know you. He was just...”

“Too plain for me,” you roll your eyes at him, laughing. “I know, you’ve been saying that to me ever since he and I went on our first date.”

“Excuse me! Because he was!” He laughed even harder than before.

“I’ll never give you the satisfaction to say you’re right if that’s what you’re expecting, Black!” You retorted, lifting a brow at him.

“You don’t need to say it, love, knowing you know that is enough for me,” he winked at you.

“Come on, let’s head back,” you smirked with a roll of your eyes, pulling him by his hand back to the party.

Sirius never left your side at the party, making sure you were having the best time. You were both completely drunk and lost inside your own little word, which made the fact that your ex-boyfriend Bentley Styles was snogging Clark Summers go unnoticed by the two of you.

“SIRIUS!” You shouted suddenly amidst the loud music, feeling the alcohol cursing through your veins.

“YES?” He shouted back, smiling as he put away a strand of your hair that was stuck into your sticky forehead.

“I WANNA DO SOMETHING CRAZY! SOMETHING STUPID!”

“LIKE WHAT?”

“I DON’T KNOW! YOU ARE THE MASTER OF MISCHIEF HERE, BLACK. SURPRISE ME!”

Sirius smiled wide at you for a second before taking his right hand to the back of your head and pull you into his direction, a mischievous spark flickering in his eyes. He brushed his lips against yours teasingly, a grin playing on his features, before nibbling your lower lip. He then stared into your eyes with a burning intensity.

“Is that the best you got Black?” You asked teasingly and you could see his eyes darkening a little.

“Y/N L/N...” he adverted you.

“Sirius Black...” you retorted in a challenging tone, enough to drive him over the edge.

Next thing you knew, your tongues meet and briefly tussle with each other, quickly escalating into an epic battle for dominance. Your lips remained locked as your tongues danced tirelessly, until you finally gave in and let him had it. And he did. It was a kiss like no other, something you’ve never experienced before. It was like both of you were kissing with all of your senses, electricity flowing through every inch of the two of you. You tangled your fingers in his hair whilst he grabbed your waist with a tightened grip, both feeling the need of something to hold on to, both wanting more of each other even though you couldn’t get much physically closer than that. After what felt like hours you eventually pulled away, both out of breath and holding a look of pure longing. You couldn’t hear the music or any other noise for that matter. It was like the outside world had just disappeared and the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Well, guess I can say I understand the appeal now,” you smirked weakly at him, the longing crystal clear in your face. “Unfortunately, this was not stupid or crazy enough for me.”

Sirius took one of his hands to your cheek, his mind clouded and fuzzy from what just happened and his heart aching with a burning longing. “Y/N, we’re drunk...” he said in a husky low voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“I know. But I’d still be doing this even if I was sober. Wouldn’t you?” You asked with a whisper.

Sirius stared at your lips and started brushing his thumb across them. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation. “Yes. I would,” he finally said.

“Good. Come with me,” you said, taking his hand in yours and leading him out of the tower.

As the two of you exited the portrait hole into the seventh floor, you dragged Sirius to the left corridor. Walking past through it three times with a very specific scene in mind, a door suddenly materialized itself on the wall, right in front of a tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. Sirius smirked at you as you pushed the door open and pulled him inside, a mattress laid on the floor in the middle of the room. Pillows and cushions were scattered all around it on top of white pieces of fabric that covered the floor. Some pieces of fabric also hung from the ceiling. The walls were enlightened like a projection screen, showing landscapes like an old movie. Closing the door behind him, Sirius decided he couldn’t take it anymore and advanced towards you, grabbing and kissing you hungrily. You quickly entangled your fingers in his hair for the second time in the night as you felt his mouth sliding through your jaw on its way to your ear. Sirius nibbled your earlobe before trailing kisses and nibbles down your neck. You tilted your head a little, pressing him against your body.

“I want you so bad, Sirius,” you mumbled. You could feel his skin crawl at your words.

“Not more than I want you,” he whispered into your ear before kissing you one more time.

Sirius led you in the direction of the mattress and as soon as you approached it, you undressed each other hurriedly, barely containing the desire that was spreading through you like wildfire. Getting on the mattress, your bodies began to swing together in a rhythmic pace, hands sliding through each other’s bodies as sounds of pleasure started to fill the room. Both you and Sirius felt ecstatic, completely wrapped in this sensual, spicy, magical moment where your bodies fitted perfectly together, as if one was the exact match of the other. It was fast, rough and hungry, yet gentle. You went on this high for as long as you could draw the moment, falling exhausted next to each other after you both cried out each other’s names as you came almost together. Sirius slid his arm underneath you and wrapped it on your shoulders, pulling you close to him. You rested your head on his chest, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours? Regretting your crazy, stupid decision already?” He asked with a laugh whilst drawing circles on your belly with his index finger.

“Although it was most definitely the stupidest and most reckless decision I’ve ever made, I don’t regret any bit of it,” you laughed, turning your head so you could look at him.

Sirius smiled and shifted his position so he was facing you. He took his free hand to your chin and gently pulled your head to him so he could kiss you. “So what are you thinking about?” He pressed his forehead against yours and brushed his nose on your own.

“That you’re surprisingly sweet after sex!” You exclaimed with a mockingly frown, earning a hearty laugh from him. “I was thinking that one time wasn’t enough, actually...” you added with a lustful look. Sirius got the message and smirked playfully at you before starting it all over again.

——————————————————————

“Morning, beautiful,” Sirius said as you opened your eyes, giving several pecks on your lips, causing you both to smile amidst them.

“You know, you never stroke me as the kind of guy who slept in and awaked the girl with sweet kisses in the morning,” you teased.

“That’s because I’m not, but since you’re my best friend I figured you deserved a little effort,” he shrugged playfully.

You opened your mouth in defeat at his remark before bursting into a laughter and threw a pillow to his face, getting up and starting to dress yourself.

“So, what are we doing now?” He asked, getting up.

“You i don’t know, I, however, am going to take a nice and long bath.”

“Want some company?” He winged his eyebrows at you, grabbing you by the waist.

You rolled your eyes with a smirk, playfully pushing him away. “Will you put some clothes on for Merlin’s sake?”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he winked at you.

“Aren’t you so full of yourself, Black?!” You rolled your eyes at him once again.

He laughed whilst throwing his underwear and pants on. He suddenly stopped with his shirt in hands, studying it with a fabricated interest. “I think we should talk,” he said, looking into your eyes. As you stared at him with a brow lifted, he added, “about what happened between us.”

“Sirius...” you sighed. “We’re cool. I know you don’t do feelings, besides I just got out myself of a long-term relationship, it’s not like I’m looking for anything serious right now.”

“And here was I thinking you were looking for all things Sirius right now,” he joked, his and your laughter echoing in the room.

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” You smiled at him. Sirius smiled back at you and the two of you stared at each other for a while.

“So, setting the record straight here, this,” he pointed back and forth at you and him, “was a one-time thing right?”

“Well... yeah,” you shrugged.

“Works for me, L/N,” he smirked at you.

“Goodbye, Black,” you smiled at him, taking a while longer before heading off.

——————————————————————

As the hot water streamed down your body, you closed your eyes, reliving all of the memories from the previous night. A smirked appeared on your face as you reminded of Sirius’ hands trailing your body. It was hands down the best night you’ve ever spent with a guy and you knew it had set the stakes high. But it would never happen again, it couldn’t. Sirius was your best friend and you knew him way too well to know that he’d move on to his next prey and never look back. Even with feelings off the table, he was not the kind of guy that engaged on something casual. He was a one-night stand kind of guy. Which was too bad because you could use the distraction yourself. Getting off the bath, you threw your uniform on and got ready for the day with an unusual disposition.

Glancing at your watch, you stormed off your dorm and the Gryffindor tower, fastening your pace in order to be able to have breakfast before your classes.

As you entered the Great Hall, you spotted all of your friends already sat on the table, including Sirius. Suppressing a smile, you went to take your seat between Lily and Alice.

“Finally! Where the hell were you?” Marlene asked as soon as you entered her field of vision.

“Yes, L/N! Where were you? It’s not like you to be late for breakfast,” Sirius shot a mischievous glance at you. You could sense his smirk from behind his mug.

Before you could say anything, James jumped in and said with a brow lifted: “you’re awfully cheerful for a Monday morning, Pad, which is not like you at all.”

“I had a good night of sleep, Prongs. That’s all,” he shrugged to his friend and sent a discreet wink on your way, cautiously so none of your friends could see it.

“You’re lucky, I barely got any sleep and my head hurts like hell,” Alice said, massaging her temples with her fingers. “Please never let me drink firewhisky again.”

“You always say that and end up drinking it anyway,” Peter noted, nodding vaguely.

“Wormy is right, Alice. Besides, it’s not like any of us could’ve helped you out, the whole night is pretty much just a blur to all of us,” James said proudly at the outcome of the party he had planned.

You smiled at your friends, gratitude filling you as you stared at each one of these weirdos. They were your family away from home. Amidst the vibrant discussion about the previous night, Remus reached for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Are you okay? I mean, with all that kissing and everything,” he asked, looking sympathetically into your eyes, searching for any traces of hurt. He had seen Bentley and Clark kissing at the party and assumed you had as well.

You chocked on your cuppa as you tried to look innocent and avoided Sirius’ eyes at all costs. “Kissing? What kissing?” You managed to say after pulling yourself together.

Your little group of friends fell dead silent, eyes wandering from you to Remus.

“Oh,” he opened his mouth in realization. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Seen what exactly, Rem?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Bentley and Clark. They looked... pretty cozy at the party,” he shrugged as if he was apologizing.

You just shrugged, unsure of what to say. You could feel Sirius’ intense stare burning holes into your skin, but you didn’t dare to look at him.

“Well, we should probably get going if we want to make it on time, Minnie doesn’t look to be in a good mood today,” James said, breaking the awkward silence.

Slowly, you and your friends got up and headed out of the Great Hall. Sirius, James and Remus walked together, joking and laughing. Alice and Marlene were on their trail, engaged in a conversation with Peter. You and Lily walked a little slower, detached from the big group. The redhead was unusually quiet.

“I know why you choked on your tea earlier,” she said, bluntly and suddenly.

“Excuse me?” You tried to play dumb.

“I saw it. You and Sirius kissing at the party,” she said, stopping in front of you with a concerned look on her face.

You bit your lower lip, once again unsure of what to say. After a while, you shrug.

“Y/N... Do I need to remind you that you used to have a crush on him before you started dating Ben?” She asked, a mother-look taking over her features.

“Lils, it was a very long time ago! We were kids back then! Besides, it’s not like I’m expecting something from him or anything. It was simply a one-night stand,” you said, crossing your arms on your chest defensively.

“For your sake, I really hope it was. It’s a dangerous bet for you to take. Don’t get me wrong, he is one my closest friends, but he is...” she started, pausing suddenly.

“Sirius...” you finished her sentence with a heavy sigh. “Don’t worry, Evans, he might be my best friend but I’m not stupid to ever think he’ll commit to anyone. I was just having fun,” you reassured her, linking your arm in hers and leading her to class.

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #the marauders #the marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #james potter #remus lupin #lily evans #adb imagine

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Falls and Forgiveness // O.W.

Request(s): Ignore me sending in multiple Oliver Wood requests because your one of the only authors I can find that write for him. Could you possibly do an x slytherin reader??? Maybe the reader is always hanging around with the gryffindoor team and Oliver always gets jealous about how the team (maybe the twins?) always jokingly flirt with her to piss him off???? Very fluffy :) // Hey I was wondering if you’d do an Oliver Wood x reader request?? Maybe the readers on a different quittich team or something and one of them gets hurt during a match and the other throws the game to help them??? Something fluffy :) I love your writing btw xx - anon 

A/N: I haven’t written for Oliver in so long so this was like a breath of fresh air and I love writing every moment of it. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you like and I hope you all enjoy!!

Warnings: swearing, arguments, flirting, established relationship, mentions of injuries. Really cheesy flirting too.

Word count: 2.8k

The Gryffindor common room had never know quiet. The house known for being boisterous and loud and always full of laughter. It is in the Gryffindor common room that you felt most at home despite having been sorted into Slytherin at eleven years old.

You had nothing against your house; it was the house of the determined, the cunning and the prideful. Friendships had been forged that ran deeper than blood and allegiances made that would only be favoured once graduated from the school for witchcraft and wizardry.

However, the appeal of Gryffindor house came in the form of their Quidditch captain – Oliver Wood. Deep brown eyes combined with a lush smile that had your knees weak. There was supposed to be a rivalry; enemy houses and enemy Quidditch teams yet you loved the teenager more than your own house. You had fallen for him in Fifth Year and he, you. No-one could deny the love you felt for each other was going to outlast the aged walls of the enchanted castle.

Along with the appeal of the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, the Gryffindor team has also taken you under their wing. Friendships forming despite the green of your robes. The Weasley twins in particular had taken a liking to you.

They never meant anything by it, their harmless flirting. Fred and George doing it to get a rise out of Oliver.

“(Y/N)!” Fred shouts, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, Fred?” You answer from your seat next to Oliver. The brunette tenses from Fred’s words, already dreading what is about to come out his mouth.

“Do you mind if I slither in?”

You snort, unimpressed by Fred’s attempt at flirting, “That’s in poor taste, Fred. I expected better from you.”

Fred winks, ignoring the cross look from Oliver. “It’s okay,” He starts, “I’m sure I’ll think of something to impress you.”

You laugh, placing a hand on Oliver’s thigh. “I have no doubt about it, save it for later though.”

Fred salutes before walking away, laughing with George over something that had happened earlier in the day. You shake your head at the sight of it, in shock at the foolish bravery displayed by the redhead. You turn your attention to Oliver; his brown eyes barely concealing the anger raging within in. Opening your mouth, you go to offer some words of comfort and reassurance, but Oliver pushes your hand from his thigh before leaving the common room.

You share a look with the twins before following Oliver out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. “Oliver, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you flirt back?” Oliver demands, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“It’s harmless fun. They mean nothing by it, Oliver! Neither do I!”

“Do you?” He asks before the words can be stopped. Oliver sees the hurt flash over your face as his accusation lands. You take a step back, holding a hand to your stomach as you work through your emotions.

“If you think that I would do anything that could hurt you – hurt us – then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” Tears threaten to spill but you hold them back, meeting Oliver’s eye unashamed.

You wait for him to say something, to say anything but nothing leaves his mouth. Shaking your head, you turn away from the Gryffindor, not letting him see the tears that finally track their way down your cheeks as you head to the Slytherin common room.

Oliver runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he stares after your rushing figure. “Love,” He calls out in the hopes that it will make you turn. He releases a pitiful groan as he watches you duck your head further, steps getting faster and faster until you’re finally out of sight.

The sobs thankfully wait until you’re in your room. The darkness provided by the quilt of your bed calling you like a siren song. The darkness provides solace and comfort as the tears trail down your cheeks; wondering how on earth Oliver could doubt your relationship and your loyalty to him.

-------

The night proves to be long, but the morning proves to be longer. You stand outside the Great Hall wondering what you were going to do. Breakfasts were reserved for Oliver, everyone knew that. Even the teachers knew that – you would sit with the brunette and chat about anything and everything. He often distracted you, pulling you in for spontaneous kisses whenever he could.

Now though, you didn’t know where to sit. You would be welcome at the Slytherin table, of course you would but it didn’t sit right within you. It didn’t feel right to not be with Oliver for the first meal of the day.

Turning away from the Great Hall, you think about the snacks hidden away in your trunk. They would do for a while, until you could figure out what was happening and where you were going. For now though, you found respite in the library, wandering there and sitting down at one of the many aged wooden tables. The day had barely begun but there were already students milling about the grand room, dawdling between shelves as they got started on homework and essays alike. Running a finger through the wood grain, eyes running over the graffiti littering the table, you reach for the work burning a hole in your bag.

This would do, for now.

----

Oliver finds you in the library the following day. This time you are hidden away in the back of the library, among the shelves that hold the older books. The smell of worn leather is almost overpowering, but it comforts you, especially as you reach for

You don’t know how long he has been standing there. You gasp as you look up from the aged pages of your book to find his deep brown eyes watching you. Oliver looks unsure of himself; the air around him insecure and curious to your reaction.

“(Y/N),” Oliver greets, voice quiet and close to breaking as he takes a shy step towards you.

“Oliver,” You reply, looking anywhere but at him. Once glance into those brown eyes and you would crumble, it wasn’t for you to crumble.

“Can we talk?”

You shake your head, standing from your seat and staving off the inevitable tears that will fall when he leaves. You weren’t ready to talk. As much as you missed him – his smile and his kisses, you weren’t ready to discuss what happened that night.

“Please?” He pleads, close to falling to his knees and begging.

You shake your head once more, taking a step back before realising that you are pressed against the bookshelf. You clear your throat, dislodging the lump that had made its home there, “Not yet, Oliver.”

He nods, the hope in his eyes dimming at your words. He runs a hand through his hair, the locks the longest they had been in a long while. “Of course,” He comments. He sends a smile your way, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Good luck for the match on Saturday. I know you’ll play well. You always do.”

“You too,” You whisper. You bite your lip, watching him walk away from you, his hands hanging limply at his side as his shoulders hunch.

After the match. After the match, you would talk to him, you promised yourself. After the match, you would explain that he could not go around flinging accusations like he did. After the match, it would all be solved and forgiven.

You hoped.

------

Saturday rolled around slowly. For the rest of the week, Oliver hadn’t tried to talk to you. Countless times you had caught him watching you; regret shining deep within his brown eyes. Sadness settled deep within you when you left your classroom after every lesson to find him absent. He was giving you the space you had asked for; he was respecting your wishes and yet you found yourself wishing he hadn’t listened to you.

You missed him. You missed him terribly. From his obsession with the sport you both played to the way he would pull you in by the hem of your shirt to kiss you. You missed the feel of his hand wrapping around yours; the way he would press a kiss to your temple randomly.

Your heart ached with his absence, but the space was needed. The logical part of you repeated this too often – the space was needed, he had to know he couldn’t go flinging accusations left, right and centre. However, your heart – the part that tended to control you more often than your mind – missed him too much for your own good.

Walking to the changing room, you remind yourself of the promise you had made to yourself earlier in the week. Get through the match. Get through this match and you can talk to him without distractions. Things needed to be mended between you, if it could be mended at all.

The usual nerves settled deep within your stomach, rolling around, leaving you nauseous. You finish tying the fastenings to your gloves, ensuring their tight enough before grabbing your broom and leaving the changing room.

Feeling foolish, you stand outside the changing rooms, hoping and wishing. You fiddle with your uniform, hoping and wishing for Oliver to show up regardless of your argument. It had been tradition for the last two years – no matter the match whether it his house versus your or yours versus another, he would always meet you here for a good luck kiss. It wouldn’t be more than a peck of lips, sweet and chaste but it always meant so much.

The kiss settled your nerves. It brought a smile out across your face, butterflies now rioting in your stomach instead of your nerves.

Looking to your left and then to your right, you sigh heavily. Pushing down the need to cry, you realise with some heaviness that Oliver wasn’t going to show. The gap that had grown between you two was getting too big for him to think about coming to wish you good luck before the match.

After the match, you repeat to yourself. Get through the match and you can tell him everything. Get through the match and you can whisper apology after apology to him, hoping he understood why you had taken a step back.

Steeling your nerves, readying yourself for the match, you head out onto the pitch all the while feeling as if something is going to go terribly wrong.

-------

Most people when waking from a long sleep do so slowly; they start by waking every limb, checking they work before moving onto stretching and opening their eyes. You, on the other hand, gasp suddenly as if jolted with something powerful. You wrench up, more than aware of the sharp pain lancing through the right side of your body.

It takes a moment for you to recognise your surroundings, the gothic, vaulted ceilings and the light stone walls of the hospital wing coming into focus as the dizziness abates.

You wince from the pain radiating in your side. Oliver stands from his seat, rushing to your side. His hands clench repeatedly into fists as he represses the need to touch you. “Don’t try to move,” He whispers, “Madame Pomfrey said you would be sore for at least a week.”

“Oliver?” You question, confused. Your eyebrows furrow as you meet his concerned gaze, taking in the dishevelled state of his Quidditch uniform, as if he barely gave himself time to get changed before rushing to the hospital wing.

“What happened?” You ask, pressing a hand to your head as if the very touch will bring back the memories.

“A dirty play,” Oliver grits; anger rising to the surface that he tries his best to quash but he had never been known to ignore his temper. “What do you remember?”

You sigh, rubbing the side of your head, “I remember something hitting me in the side and I remember losing grip of my broom…” You trail off, straining your memory in the hopes of remembering something. You shake your head, “That’s all I remember.”

Oliver nods as he sidles closer to the bedside. “You were hit by a bludger. In truth, an argument broke out between the teams. The Weasley’s are awfully protective of you, you see and when they saw you, they started to argue with your team. From there, it escalated and bludgers started being flung in every direction. One hit you in the side, knocking you sideways and off your broom to the pitch below.”

“No-one else was hurt though?”

Oliver laughs: a short burst, “It’s just like you to be concerned with someone else when you’re the one lying in the hospital wing having just recovered from broken ribs.”

“Well?” You all but demand, “Was anyone else hurt?”

Oliver shakes his head, “No, love. No-one else was hurt.”

You bite your lip, body heating at the use of the term of endearment. Oliver called you many things: ‘darling’, ‘dear’, ‘Leannan’, but ‘love’ was your favourite. To hear it fall from his lips after a week long absence of it, it made you feel like everything could be solved.

“Who won the match?” You question, eyes running over Oliver’s dishevelled form.

“No-one,” Oliver states, plain and simple.

“What?”

“I threw the match,” He says, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“You were laying on the grass, out cold. I didn’t know if you were breathing, I didn’t know anything,” Oliver rushes, his chest heaving with the force of his words, “I was going to make sure you were okay before I was back out on any damned pitch.”

“Oliver!” You gasp; shocked at his words. He loved Quidditch; had even been scouted to play for a team after graduating from Hogwarts. You had never heard him speak like this about the sport.

Oliver rests his face in his hands, getting to grips with the emotions surging through him. All he sees behind his eyes is your body falling helplessly to the ground; limbs limp and hair flying everywhere. It wouldn’t be a sight he forgot quickly.

He regains control only a moment later. He pulls his face out his hands and releasing a long breath. “I love you,” He states honestly, “I love you. This week without you has been hell and then seeing you get hurt… I just about lost my mind.”

You sniffle, tears beginning to form in your eyes at his words. Oliver stalks forward, taking your hands in his, squeezing them tightly as he brings them up to his mouth. He places one, two, three kisses to the back of your hands before whispering, “I am so sorry. I’m a jealous fool. I had no right to question our relationship.”

“No, you didn’t,” You state, eyes searching his, finding nothing but love for you within their depths.

Oliver takes the chance. He leans down, pressing his forehead to you as he repeats his apology as many times as needed.

After the fourth time, you pull back with a laugh.

“What?” Oliver asks, a shy smile on his face.

You shake your head, “You’re impossible, Oliver.”

“Impossibly in love with you,” He flirts, his smile growing larger.

You groan, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. He nudges you gently, getting you to move over slightly so he can join you on the hospital bed. Oliver brings a hand to your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone and down to your jawline as his eyes search your face for what, you don’t know.

The smile has disappeared from his face, replaced with a serious expression that looks so out of place. “I am sorry, my love,” He starts, “Can you forgive me?”

You lean forward, meeting him halfway, nudging your nose with his as you seek out his lips. “You’re already forgiven. Who else would wait by my bedside when I’m injured?”

One of Oliver’s hands winds its way through your hair. “Let’s try not to make that a habit though. Please?”

You pull back slightly, letting Oliver see the large smile on your face. “I can try my very hardest,” You quip with a laugh.

A laugh that is quickly quietened by Oliver’s lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s been a week in the waiting. Forgiveness and love personified by the way he takes his time, relearning the way you move against him whilst trying to not kiss you the way a man dying of thirst would reach for water. You smile against his mouth, unable to keep the grin off your face for longer than necessary, way too happy to be back in his arms once again.

******

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#oliver wood x reader #oliver x reader #oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood fanfiction

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Two

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, smut in future chapters

A/N: Hello peeps! I hope you are enjoying this series. Please comment and reblog if you like it. It’s always good to hear that your work it appreciated. And massive thanks to @thelastsock for being my beta, who is immensely talented and the sweetest person ever! ❤️

<Chapter One

Title: Chapter Two

As the golden rays of the sun peered from the horizon, the living quarters came to life. Olivia was the first to jump into the shower, with Sloan and Sierra joining in by occupying the other booth, sometime after.

They had the food truck retrieval on their agenda today. But before that, the ladies, and everyone else in their unit had to carry out their scheduled morning workout. 

Olivia walked to the gym downstairs feeling fresh after the much needed shower. Everyone had retreated to their quarters last night, matted with sand and sweat, only cleaning themselves with a wet towel owing to water scarcity in the camp. As she reached the open doorway to the gym, she instantly spotted Schmidt lifting weights with the other men. A boombox sat on a table on one corner, blasting rock music from its speakers.

“The level of testosterone in this place is maddening,” Sloan groaned from beside her.

Olivia whinced as the song played a displeasing high note of an electric guitar. The gruff laughter of the men, along with the loud music was not the first thing she wanted to wake up to. “How about we go to the roof instead?” Olivia suggested, shrugging her shoulders. 

Half an hour into their workout, Sloan groaned under the heat. She pulled her blond hair up in a bun and sat on the ledge of the rooftop. Olivia got a couple more of her crunches done, the back of her t-shirt sticking to her body with her sweat. Sierra was staying put in a plank, Olivia always admired how this woman, even after bearing two kids, had an excellent core strength.

“Look at these guys,” Sloan commented, looking down from the roof. “They so bulky and unkempt.”

Olivia sat up, crossing her legs and grabbing her bottle of water. “You checking out the SF guys?”

“Yeah. Yesterday one of them, BJ was he? Was staring at my ass as I walked past him.”

Sierra stood up from her plank position and walked up to where Sloan sat. She ran a hand through her brown bob and looked down at the men. “I don’t know, they look rough and tough. Like, come on, they aren’t exactly Abercrombie & Fitch, but some of them are easy on the eyes.”

“Syverson, you mean?” Sloan nudged her friend. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you let out that low whistle when he spoke.”

“You know I am weak for the southern twang. And has a buzz cut ever looked that sexy on anyone?”

Olivia rolled her eyes watching Sierra fan herself while Sloan shook her head in disbelief. Pushing herself off of the floor, Olivia stretched her arms above her head. “Tell that to your British husband.” She poked the tip of her empty bottle in Sierra’s belly.

“Come on, Sarge. Tell me you didn’t find the Captain sexy.” Sierra wiggled her eyebrows at Olivia, giving her shoulders a shake too.

“Maybe she’s missing Captain Coop,” It was now Sloan’s turn to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. She jumped down from the ledge and grabbed her own bottle. “Tell us, Sarge. Is he good in bed?”

“I think he’s so vanilla. Syverson seems like hot chocolate. Yum.” Sierra content with her comment, laughed along with Sloan. With her arm perched on Sloan’s shoulder, Sierra waited for an answer from their Sergeant.

“Guys, we have important work to do today.” Olivia let out her braid, letting her sweaty hair dry. “Come on,” she tilted her head towards the broken door of the roof.

Both women rolled their eyes at her, not stretching the topic further. Although when they were walking away, Sierra added a cheeky “I bet Syverson is an ass-man,” making Olivia shake her head.

But now that she was alone, she allowed herself a moment to think. She wouldn’t lie to herself, she found Sy to be very appealing to the eyes. The command he had over his men was also palpable. He hadn’t addressed them in front of her, but even in a laid-back manner, they seemed to be respectful of him.

With a warmth creeping on her already flushed skin, Olivia's thoughts turned to how he had checked her out. He was trying to be discreet, but she had noticed how his gaze had washed over hers when she had stood in front of him in the office. But, she was no innocent maiden either. Like for instance, when he had been looking down towards the map, pointing out the routes and places to hit for the food truck, she had noticed a few details about him. They were subtle attributes like the bridge of his nose, how his lashes looked thicker than hers, how his scruffy beard concealed most of his face, making her fingers tickle with the urge to touch it.

Olivia let out a slow breath, turning to look beyond the compound. It was not the time, or the place to be thinking about the physical features of her captain. They were in the middle of a war and she was here for a particular mission. Besides, she wasn't sure they were on good terms right now.

Shouldn’t have lashed out at him about being checked out when I was doing the same to him.

Her eyes fell towards the Humvees getting prepped with ammo and men getting ready to head out. She was bunching up her damp hair, to tie it up in an army regulated 'bun' to avoid violation of the dress code, when she caught sight of the Captain.

Sy stood in a black t-shirt and cargo shorts, holding a cup in his hand. A green spray-painted German Shepherd stood near his feet, wagging it’s tail and tongue lolling out of it’s mouth. The more Olivia looked at Sy the more she leaned towards agreeing that Sierra was right. Buzz cut hair never looked so good on anyone she had ever met.

Olivia’s mouth fell open when Sy looked up towards the roof, directly at her. Her hands fell down to her sides as they both stared back at each other. She watched as a smirk appeared on his bearded face while he brought his cup up to his mouth. Even from this distance she could notice how after taking a sip he licked his lips, darting only the tip of his tongue out.

“Yo, Red!” The sudden call from Schmidt standing just below the one-story building, wearing his gear and black sunglasses covering his eyes, broke the semi-trance Olivia had going on with Syverson. “We need to roll out.”

She nodded at her comrade, throwing a last look at a smiling Sy, before heading down towards their room. This was unacceptable. Get your head in the game, Liv. She scolded herself, a frown forming on her face as she ran down the stairs.

It was almost sundown when the troops finally came back to Warhorse. Olivia let the chopper hover over the camp while the last of the Humvee travelling behind the tarp-covered truck, entered the compound. They had noticed a few cars driving up to the mountain while the on-ground crew had spoken to the truck driver. Olivia was aware that they weren’t supposed to fire until they were getting attacked, but her fingers had hovered over the trigger to their machine guns attached to the chopper as a precaution. 

Luckily for them, the cars had driven off without any sort of trouble. The rest of their route back had been mostly uneventful with one of their men singing “Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain” making everyone laugh over the comms. Olivia, unlike her own no-nonsense superiors, usually let her unit members have fun from time to time. She believed to earn respect, it wasn't necessary to make them bend the knee to her.

As soon as the skids hit the dirt, her eyes seemed to lock onto Syverson. He stood near their main wing in the same clothes, patting on the backs of his men as they walked back to their building.

“That seemed easy,” Schmidt cracked his neck, shrugging his shoulders to loosen his muscles. She could also feel the stiffness in her neck from sitting in the chopper, tensed and worried about the ground force. “This will feel like a vacation, huh Red? Work only once a week.” He laughed, joining the other men as they jumped out of their vehicles.

She smiled at him, stopping to watch the SF men helping her guys to unload the contents of the food truck. She spotted a body walking towards her from the corner of her eyes. She chose to look on ahead, counting the number of crates being offloaded, without glancing to her side.

“You did good, Red.” Sy’s gruff voice sounded from beside her. The use of her nickname sent weird sparks down her spine. “You scared off everyone with your chopper blades.”

Olivia couldn’t help but let herself smile. She would like to believe she did scare off the insurgents. “Would that suffice for everyone?” She jutted her chin, indicating the cartons of food being placed on the ground.

Sy let out a heavy sigh. “Will have to. Can’t let the locals suffer because of us.”

“What if they don’t care about us helping them?”

“We still do it. That’s our job.” She looked to Sy after he spoke. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed together as he observed his boys taking the cartons to storage. Her eyes lingered on his, the evening sun making them look like two limpid pools of blue. She was aware she was staring but in a deeply cliched moment, she couldn’t avert her eyes.

“Like what you see, Sergeant?” The smugness in his voice was unmistakable. She quickly looked away and down towards her shoes, vaguely noticing the sand stuck to the eyelets and the scuff marks on the toe caps. 

Even though her ears warmed up from being caught red-handed, she was quick in gathering her wits around the awkward moment. She looked up again without much consideration towards him and turned to walk away. But before she was out of his ear shot, she couldn't resist adding, “I’ve seen better.”

Sy’s laugh, loud and filled with spirits, made her bite her lip as she smiled and sauntered back to their designated wing. Two things she was glad about right now. One, about Schmidt being right, this definitely felt more like a vacation. And two, Syverson and her weren’t exactly butting heads.

Olivia refused to accept it, but it really warmed her heart and she looked forward to the coming days.

Chapter Three>

✨Series Masterlist✨

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#henry cavill #Henry Cavill fics #Captain syverson #Captain Syverson fanfic #Sand and Stars series

[yandere-sins]

Prompt 44 for Fairy King Bakugou please 💜

Thank you for requesting ♥ Love me some Baku-Bomb!

“You stepped into my territory, which means you belong to me. And I don’t let things that are mine go.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««  

Despite wanting to be let down by the two winged guards, when they finally did, you could not help but yelp from the pain. Being dropped, even if it was just from a few inches above the ground, it hurt to land on your shins, the vibrant red carpet not doing much to cushion your fall.

But no matter how dirty the looks were that you gave those two ruffians, they were unfazed by even your presence, merely looking ahead, instead of you at all. Your focus laid on the guards when you suddenly saw them bow, your head snapping forward with the confusion as to why they’d act like that, and you were unlucky enough to catch the irritated side-glance that another person of their kind threw at you.

Admittedly, the situation you were in now was your fault, even if you didn’t think you needed to be handled so roughly. Blindly running into the forest out of frustration and anger about your family wasn’t the smartest move in your repertoire, but you didn’t step into the fairy circle because you meant harm for them - not at all.

There was much to freak out about now. You, falling into a different kind of world, the existence of fairies, or merely how beautiful the person in front of you was.

Despite the disgusted glares he gave you, there were a hundred reasons that made him visually appealing to you. His hair, even though the strands reached into every possible direction, looked beautifully, shiny, and well-groomed. Those distrusting eyes of his shone like embers, wild and burning as he stared at you, just like his wings, which had the prettiest sheen of all the colors you could imagine and more.

In the back of your mind, you knew that if you hadn’t stepped into the fairy circle, all of the people here would merely be the size of your palm, but that didn’t stop you from admiring the fine clothing he wore, a display of his position in the society that he seemed to reign over. At least, the wonderfully crafted gold crown shining from the top of his head indicated that he wasn’t just any fairy in the ranks. If anything, his appearance made everything that was going on even more unbelievable.

“What’s a dirty human doing here? Why do you present them to me?”

Against his fierce appearance, his words were cold, without any consideration towards the situation you were in. “I didn’t choose to come here- ouch!” you tried to defend yourself, but your sentence was interrupted with the feeling of the flat end of a spear pushed between your shoulder blades.

“And they are fucking rude, too. Watch your tongue, you Short-Life,” he hissed right back at you, watching you getting pushed to the ground from the force. “I think you are fucking rude,” you mumbled back, loud enough, so he probably heard it though it didn’t matter to you at that moment.

“Huuuh...” was the next thing you heard, and you slowly got back on your knees, not ready to give up just like that. He might be a king of whatever-kingdom, but it was hard for you to find respect for someone who seemed to enjoy insulting like a sport.

“I had a really shitty day today too, okay?! You can just let me go, and we won’t have to see each other again, deal?”

You couldn’t keep your voice from growing softer as you had to watch how he slowly got up from his throne, taking one step after the other, down to your level. Admittedly, you had underestimated his size, now that you two were supposed to be the same, but with you still kneeling on the ground, he was a towering presence stalking towards you.

“No deal,” he said determined. The dismissive wave of his hand almost looked too gallant for a man with such a potty mouth. “You trespass here, and now you expect us to just let you go? What will you do with the whereabouts of your kingdom? Tell your shitty friends so they can come and bother us?”

“I-I wouldn’t...” you grumbled, offended by the assumption you were as stupid as he thought your friends to be. “Of course.” The sarcastic tone in his voice was something you wanted to show right back to him, but before you could come up with an epic comeback, he was already speaking up again.

“Do you think you are the only human ever to cross into our realm? You wouldn’t be the first one to fucking turn on our generosity and bring back your super weapons and strongest men. Humans are so hungry for more things you can control, and you never see how strong we are once you come here.”

From around you - and it made you jump, as you didn’t realize the hundreds of eyes on you from all sides before - there was a short eruption of cheers. For the first time, you realized this wasn’t a conversation at all; it was a show. A demonstration even. With a cold shiver, bad thoughts flooded your mind, unsure of how far this demonstration of power would go.

“W-What else would you want from me then?” Even though you tried to put on a brave face, the cracks in your confidence must have shown as his lips curled into a repulsive, victorious grin, showing off his teeth, which you had to admit, looked perfect, yet, inhuman. They rowed up perfectly but grew pointed towards their ends which was unsettling, to say the least.

“I’ll make you an example. And if I grow bored, I can still break your neck and throw you out into the woods again as a warning.”

You felt your heartbeat fasten, an emotional rollercoaster going through you. There was anger about being publicly shamed even though you didn’t fall into this world with bad intentions, but you were also frustrated to have made the mistake in the first place. Everyone knew about the dangers of the fairy folk, and yet, you always dismissed it as tales to scare children, letting your own guard down. What you were experiencing now was a result of recklessness, but you had been lying if you didn’t admit it scared you, fear making your stomach clench.

“Just... let me go,” you pleaded in defeat, avoiding your eyes in favor of looking to the ground. You knew when to give up the fight, especially when you had someone in front of you who threatened to kill you.

“No fucking chance,” he quickly shattered your hopes. “You stepped into my territory, which means you belong to me. And I don’t let things that are mine go.”  

As he finally reached your place of submission, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at him. But you didn’t have a say in this. Even if it hurt when he grabbed your chin between his fingers, pulling it so far back, had he not gripped onto you tightly, you’d have fallen over backwards. Harsh, calloused were his hands, much different from his almost angelic looks, but evidence to the man's rough years he must have gone through already.

“Bakugou Katsuki. Make sure you remember the name of the fairy king that caught you, my little human pet. Or else...”

It was hard to find any understanding for his actions. Even gurgling in his grip, scared and disgusted, you couldn’t bring up any ounce of respect for him, and it reflected in the way you spoke to him after having to swallow all those insults and the disrespect he was showing to you too.

“Or else?” you urged him to finish his sentence. Not your wisest choice, but now, so close in your sight, you saw the embers you had assumed in his eyes before, glow up again from amusement, telling you that being feisty wasn’t actually something he disapproved of.

“Or I will burn it into your sweet, burnable skin, you helpless, flightless being,” was his unexpected response. Almost on cue, you thought to feel the heat of a fire thrash around your face, sparks flying and singeing the ends of your hair.

And for the first time, his insults were your least concern.

#Bakugou Katsuki #Katsuki Bakugou #Bakugou #yandere bakugou #yandere!bakugou #BnHA #Boku no Hero Academia #MHA #My Hero Academia #yandere bnha #yandere!bnha #yandere mha #yandere!mha #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #Anonymous

[allfandomxreader]

Home for the Holidays (1)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Everything looks just about the same, minus the few stop signs that were added to the town’s main street or houses that got renovated. It never fails to amaze you how quickly things can change around here, even if you’ve only been gone a few months. Either way, it still feels like home.

Warnings: Language, very minor anxiety mention. It’s a clusterfuck, brace yourselves. 

Words: 2.3k

Part: 1/5? 6? idk yet

A/N: I’ve been thinking about doing this mini series for a few days and I'm absolutely in love. Also thank you so much @harringtown​ for letting me ramble about my ideas. As always, feedback is loved and appreciated :) Not my gif!

Series Masterlist // Stranger Things Masterlist

With a week before Christmas, to say your apartment had any sort of holiday cheer would be an understatement. There’s not a wreath on the door, a lit tree in the corner, or stockings hanging on the wall. You don’t mind this, neither does your roommate, Luke. Buying gaudy ornaments that would just shatter on the hardwood didn’t sound appealing. So, the two of you agreed the home would remain free of decor this season.

Luke sits across from you, delicately tying a bow around the present you asked him to wrap. Between work and finals, you saved preparing for the journey home until the very last second. This resulted in the living room floor being covered paper scraps, mismatched ribbons, and somehow glitter. Turns out, keeping your apartment ridden of Christmas is harder than you thought.

“Jesus, do you think you bought enough?” Luke gestures towards the pile of presents that remain untouched.

“Well, most of them are for Dustin, and I wanted to get The Party something they could all use together,” You try to explain, “They’re all just growing up so fast I don’t know what interests them anymore.” You say with a huff, grabbing another present to begin wrapping.

“And this all has to be done tonight?”

“Unless you want to wake up early tomorrow morning before we leave to do it, yes.” Luke doesn’t say anything after that, seemingly content with staying up late.

Two weeks ago, he let it slip he wasn’t visiting his family over the holidays while your mother was on FaceTime. To her, that was just simply unacceptable and insisted he’d join the Henderson household for break. To this day, you aren’t sure how spending time in Hawkins is more enjoyable than with his family in Colorado, but nevertheless, he agreed.

Of course, it took some convincing from you and your mother. He didn’t want to impose on any of the silly traditions that your friends and family have taken up over years. But your mother had no problem setting out an extra placemat for her Christmas Eve feast. Honestly, having Luke come put your nerves at ease. It’s always a little overwhelming to return to Hawkins.

The two of you don’t talk for nearly an hour, engrossed in perfecting box corners. “Wait,” He says breaking the silence, looking around the floor. You don’t look up, you’re too busy googling how to wrap a mug. “All of these are for the kids–” He points to the still growing pile of presents beside you.

“Teens,” You correct, knowing they’d have your head on a stick for being called anything else.

“Right, teens. These are for your mom,” He gestures towards only a cluster of gifts, “Then these are Robbin, Nancy and her boyfriend…”

“Johnathon,” You fill in the name for him.

“Yes, Johnathon,” He trails off again, still looking at the remaining presents behind you. “What’d you get Steve?”

You look up at him then, the worries of the unwrapped gift lost somewhere in the back of your mind. “It’s back home.” You shrug simply, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

“You haven’t been home since the summer, how is that even possible?”

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh,” You warn. He only raises his pinky as a silent promise. “When we were younger, we made this time capsule thing and said we’d open it once we were in college. When it felt right. I don’t know it… It feels right.”

“Oh,” He sings, “Is this how you’re finally going break the news you’ve been in love with him for the past ten years? Very Hallmark-y.”

“Don’t be a dick about it!” You laugh, throwing an empty tape roll at him.

“I’m not!” He quickly stifles his laughter, trying his best not to smile. “How were you even planning on giving that to him, dig it up yourself?”

“I don’t know, shovel with a bow? We always said we’d do it together.” Luke laughs at this, not even trying to hide it anymore.

“You cannot give him a shovel and a bow!” He practically screeches.

“I thought it was cute and sentimental!” You try your best to sound angry but fail between laughs, “Fuck it, now I’m insecure. He’s getting something else.”

“No, no, it’s really cute. Also, Christmas is literally in a week.”

“We’ll just go get something with Robin, easy.” You say, unlocking your phone to attempt wrapping the mug again.

“Suit yourself. Either way, I think you should tell him. I could even be your wingman.” He says, going back to whatever present that held his attention before.

“Fuck off,” You chuck a wad of discarded wrapping paper towards his head, settling into quiet once more.

The drive to Hawkins took longer than expected. You never realized how often Luke peed even with him living across the hall. By the time you make it past city limits, you’re exhausted.

Everything looks just about the same, minus the few stop signs that were added to the town’s main street or houses that got renovated. It never fails to amaze you how quickly things can change around here, even if you’ve only been gone a few months. Either way, it still feels like home.

Unlike main street, your house looks exactly the same as you pull into the driveway, under all the Christmas lights that is. They don’t look the best, you aren’t sure how your mother tricked Dustin and the others to hang them, but it was a good effort.

You don’t need to be inside to know the obnoxious wallpaper hasn’t been removed and the green paint is still chipped. No matter how many times you’ve told your mother the house is screaming for a makeover, a part of you has missed the outdated abode. Not that you’d ever say it out loud.  

Your mother screeches as she opens the door, sprinting down the steps before you can even get out of your car. “Dustin! Y/N’s home!” She calls, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mom.” You manage to say. “Hey, nerd!” You call towards your brother standing on the porch, refusing to step into the cold air. Even from here you can tell his hair is a little longer and he stands a little taller since the last time you saw him.

“You must be Luke,” Your mother exclaims, throwing her arms around him as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You too, Ms. Henderson.”

“Oh, please, call me Claudia.” She waves her hands in dismissal. “Dustin, come help grab some bags!” With a groan and a single eyeroll, he obeys. You ruffle his hair as he passes you.

The four of you take separate trips unloading bags until finally it’s just the presents left. Dustin’s retreated back into his usual spot in the living room and your mother puts finishing touches on dinner. You and Luke, however, are bent over the trunk, trying your best to organize the boxes into piles.

Somewhere behind you, a car door opens and closes. You don’t pay much attention, too focused on separating Dustin’s gifts from everyone else’s.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” You don’t need to turn around to know the voice belongs to Steve. By the time you turn around to face him, you’re already grinning.

“Steve!” You squeal, running into his open arms. You breathe him in for as long as time allows, his scent almost foreign from months spent apart. When he holds you, as cliché and Hallmark-y as it sounds, it feels right. “I thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow.” You say, reluctantly pulling away from this warmth.

“I finished finals early, thought I’d stop by to see if you were home yet.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Wow, Steve on top of his shit? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Maybe the thought of seeing you made me want to finish early,” He says coolly. You roll your eyes out of habit, despite the butterflies erupting within your stomach.

“Keep it in your pants, Harrington.” You’re about to ask him a list of questions, how’d your finals go? Did you pass sociology? How’d your economics professor like your project? You wanted to know everything, to tell him how much you’ve missed him and talking on FaceTime doesn’t do it justice.

But the conversation was cut short at the arrival of a stranger beside him. She had long, black hair, rosy cheeks from the cold, and an award-winning smile. She was absolutely stunning.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Steve laughs, throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Y/N, this is my girlfriend, Margot.”

And there it was.

For a moment you swear the world stopped turning. A range of emotions wash over you, jealousy, anger, sadness. You can’t tell which one you feel the most. The butterflies you felt moments ago slowly died, you’re afraid if you say a word, you’ll cough wings onto the pavement.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Steve never shuts up about you.” She giggles, cuddling closer into his side to shield herself from the cold.

The irony, Steve never mentioned you once.

“Wow, hi!” You sound overly cheerful once you break from your trance. “Luke?” You choke, desperate to find a way out of the conversation. It feels like an eternity as he makes his way towards you. “This is my boyfriend, Luke.” He freezes for a moment, cocking his head slightly to the side, something he always does when he’s stunned. you don’t think the couple notices “Luke, this is Steve and his girlfriend, Margot.”

“I thought you were just roommates,” Steve looks between the two of you, quizzingly.

“We didn’t know how to tell everyone, especially our parents.” Luke says, snaking his arm around your waist.

“Yeah,” You cough, “We didn’t want the judgement of moving in together so quickly, you know how Claudia is.” You force a chuckle, leaning into Luke’s side more. Steve only laughs, nodding in agreement, seemingly buying the story. There’s an awkward silence that follows.

“Well, we’ll let you get situated and spend time with your mom and brother. He misses you a lot, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Steve says finally, smiling down at the girl wrapped around him. “Good meeting you, Luke. We’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You stretch your lips into what hopefully looks like a smile towards the two of them. Margot offers a shy wave before they turn to leave.

The two of you walk quickly inside, neither of you speaking. You tell your mother the two of you need to freshen up before dinner, an excuse to get her off your back for more than five minutes. You beeline towards your bedroom, Luke following closely behind.

“What the fuck was that?” He whispers, once safely inside your bedroom.

“I don’t know, okay? I panicked. I was completely ambushed with his girlfriend. Since when does Steve have a girlfriend? And why didn’t he tell me?” You say, your pacing is muffled by the carpeted floor. “This is fine, right? Yeah, this is totally fine. We can pretend we’re dating for a while. And when we get back home, we can just say we’re better off as friends. No harm done –and nobody has to know.”

“I’m sorry, you do know that I’m gay, right?” This made you freeze. You had assumptions, he never outright told you, you never asked.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know –I mean I thought so but you never told me!” You scramble for an answer to his question.

“I thought you knew, I figured you heard my Grindr notifications!” He whispers, flailing his arms as he speaks.

“That’s what that sound is?” You start pacing again, mind reeling with ways to get you out of the mess you created. “I could just say I meant to say roommate instead of boyfriend, yeah?” You nod, as if that was the solution to your problem. “Fuck, no, we can’t even do that –you went along with it!” You tug at your hair in frustration, “What are we going to do?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. Despite it being freezing outside, your face is hot to the touch. “You know what, I’ll just tell the truth. I’ll say I panicked and you were just being a good friend.” You say with a sigh.

“No, don’t do that you’ll look desperate and make us both look stupid.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You feel as though you could burst into tears, from embarrassment or anxiety, you can’t be sure. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” His voice is calmer now, it’s the one he uses when you’ve had a bad day at work or when you got stood up on a date. Just the sound almost makes you sick. “I pretended to be straight all of high school, I’m pretty sure I can do it again.”

“Did everyone believe you?” He opens his mouth as if he’s going to agree but quickly shuts it once more. “Oh my god, we’re screwed.”

“Hey, I was in theater, how hard can this be?” You let out a laugh, a sad one, but a laugh nevertheless.

“And on the bright side, we’ll never fall in love with each other like they do in the movies.” You try your best to find light in this newfound situation, mainly for yourself.

“Even if I were straight, you’d be the last person I’d want to date. You’re a nightmare to live with.” Luke admits dryly.

“Okay, ouch.” You grumble, taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

Happy Holidays, everyone. You think to yourself as you fall back onto your childhood sheets. But by now you should know, Christmas never goes as planned in Hawkins.

Forevertags: @superfrankie111​ // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73​ // @simplechicwithacrazedheart​ // @youshutthefuckupville​ // @captainpeggy40 // @alexdamereysmith // @llatpdnmm​ // @dummiesshort​ // @quaksonhehe​

Steve Tags: @empathetic-vibrations // @loulouloueh​

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #Steve Harrington gif #Steve Harrington hc #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x henderson!reader #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington series #stranger things one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #Steve harrington x rem!reader #fake dating au

[mrsalwayswrite]

Letters From War (Ron Speirs x reader)

Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics. 

And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life. 

Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words

Words: 3500

Eye Candy series masterlist

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs​ (because I mentioned this earlier to you)

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others. 

 I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me. 

 I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.  

 As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements. 

 "Where you think you're goin'?" 

 I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

 He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

 "We need to get up soon."

 "You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

 "And yet, we're still in bed."

 "Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

 "Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly. 

 "You were saying?" He said with a smug look. 

 "We need to get up."

 "Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses. 

 Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away. 

 "You were saying?" He repeated. 

 Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

 He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in.  We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

 My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

 "We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing. 

 "Mmm."

 "Do you know where we are going?"

 "Yes."

 I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing. 

 When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness. 

 "Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

 "I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

 I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

 He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

 "Can I write to you?"

 I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged. 

 Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

 As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion. 

 Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

 "Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

 He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan. 

 "You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again. 

 "No." He stated flatly.

 "No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

 "No."

 "Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

 He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips. 

 I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass. 

 He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

 "Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

 He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

 "Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

 We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body. 

 "Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

 He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

 "How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

 He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.  

 "No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!" 

 As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him. 

 Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon. 

 *****

 The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England. 

 Soon war. 

 It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared. 

 Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD. 

 Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright? 

 "Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper. 

 Dear Dad and Mom, 

 I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course. 

My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over. 

Just last week we were learning about different types--

 "This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration. 

 I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone. 

 "No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything. 

 "Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap. 

 I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought. 

 It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum. 

 In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms. 

 I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him. 

 Was this love?

 I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war. 

 That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

 "Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested. 

 "Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

 I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint. 

 Apparently not. 

 "Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

 "I don't think that's your business."

 "Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

 "Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them. 

 I rolled my eyes. 

 Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit. 

 "Letter to a sweetheart?"

 "No," I replied. "Letter home."

 He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

 I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

 He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling. 

 We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air. 

 I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

 "So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer. 

 Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

 I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes. 

 My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

 "I suggest you find yourself another seat."

 The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car. 

 "Awww…. I think you scared him away."

 Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

 "Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

 He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions. 

 "The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

 He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

 "No. Should I have?"

 He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. 

 "I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

 "I want you to write me."

 My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

 He mock-glared at me.

 "Will you write me back?"

 To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

 "Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened. 

 With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. 

 He wanted me to write him...and he would write back! 

 And he kissed me. 

 In public! 

 To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought. 

 A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly. 

 "Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock. 

 I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that. 

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #fluff #soft!speirs

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hey! For your monster prompts, maybe Fae indruck? Either nsfw or sfw is cool ✌🏻💕✨

Here you go! I went with NSFW

When the sun sets over the Monongahela, Lake Greenbriar becomes a sky burning with stars. The woven crowns, strung through ash leaves for men or rowan leaves for women, each bear four small candles which flicker in the twilight as they bob on the water. If they sink, their owners will return home alone. If they make it to another part of the shore, the one who picks them up and the one who set them afloat are meant to be together. 

By the time darkness cloaks the trees, all but one of the crowns is sunk or retrieved. Duck Newton sits on the shore, skipping stones across the black water. 

This happens every. Goddamn. Year.

He makes his crown, he sets it on the lake, and it floats aimlessly until the candles go out. It doesn’t sink, and no one ever picks it up. Two years ago, when he was allowed to weave ash leaves instead of rowan into it, he thought that might fix the issue. No such luck. 

It’s not that Duck is hoping to find his true love; every one knows that the Festival of Floating Light is an excuse to hook-up in the woods with no repercussions. Kepler is strange like that. Sex is private, unless there’s a an ancient ritual involving boning down in public, in which case it must be observed every year.

That’s not the only strange thing about his home, far from it, but as moans and cries of pleasure punctuate the darkness it’s the one on his mind. 

He’s contemplating whether to go home when his crown changes course, floating purposefully to a point diagonal from him. Lo and behold, a figure picks it up, and there’s a flash of silver as they lift it. But instead of moving towards him, they turn into the woods.

“Man, what the fuck?” He grumbles, getting to his feet and running towards the dimming candles, staying on the shore to avoid tripping over an amorous couple hidden in the trees. Duck catches up to the mysterious figure just as they pass into a clearing, moonlight spilling onto the grass around them.

“Y’know, real rude to turn your back on your true love.” He teases.

A rustle of fabric as the figure turns and Duck bites back a frustrated groan. Standing before him is a man with silver hair, faintly glowing red eyes and, god help him, short, feathery antennae. He smiles wide, showing teeth just sharp enough to be worrying. 

Six years of waiting, and the first person to get his crown is a fucking fae. 

“That seems rather forward.” The fae cocks his head, “I was of the understanding this night was for more, ah, casual activities.”

“I was, uh, just goofin around. Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize for such a jest. Here” tan arms offer the crown back to him, “I came to observe, not participate. I was running late at that, and thus thought I would see the lake empty. Only this remained and when it came to me I assumed it’s owner had long since given up.”

“Uh, thanks.” He blows out the candles, not wanting to start a forest fire, “yeah. This same thing happens to me every year. Don’t stop me from waitin until the last moment, hopin it’ll be different.”

The fae looks at Duck’s feet, gaze slowly moving up his body with an unreadable smile. 

“I know many consider this festival a mere game, rather than true magic, and you are the proof” red eyes lock onto his face, “Such a handsome man is left floating year after year? No decent magic would allow that.”

Duck knows that fae flirt with humans all the time, that people come back with stories of being bewitched until the member of the Unseen Court had their fill. But this one seems too earnest for that.

No sooner does he think this then the fae steps back, “Oh, ah, apologies, I did not mean to alarm you with my compliment. You need not fear trickery from me, Duck Newton, I promise.”

“Uh, my, my name ain’t, uh, fuck, my names really Way-, no, no uh. Fuck.”

“Do not worry. I am a seer, and thus learned your name by following your futures. But magic has odd ways about it; because I can learn others' names with ease, I cannot use them for any sort of spell or binding.”

“Thank fuck.”

The fae snickers, then bows, “Indeed. You may call me Indrid,”

“Indrid. Right. Uh, well, been nice meetin you Indrid, but I’m gonna head back into town.”

“You wish to return to a lonely bed and a night of disgruntled dreams?” Indrid raises an eyebrow.

“N-ye-uh, fuck, I mean, what else am I gonna do?”

“You could stay with me awhile. I would offer a meal, but I foresee you being wary of it and, honestly, that speaks to prudence on your part. Fae are fae, after all. What else do you like doing at night?” He sounds excited, as if he wants nothing more than to indulge Duck’s most mundane fantasies. 

“I like stargazin.” Duck mumbles, certain the fae will leave rather than stay and listen to him babble. 

A wave of the hand and a thick, green blanket covers the ground. The fae sits down with less grace than expected, flopping onto his back with a sigh. Cautiously, Duck joins him. As he lays back, a pillow forms to cushion his head. 

Crickets call near their heads. Duck likes silence, but a growing part of him wants to talk more with Indrid. He points to a cluster of stars, “There’s the Great Ship. Always did like that one.”

“You know, we call that The Pine. But now that you say it, I can see the ship as well.” Indrid’s finger traces lines through the air.

“Huh, never occurred to me y’all would see different things. What about...that one. Cygnus.”

“It seems we both saw something avian. To me, that is The Crane.”

The trade constellations for a time, then move on to their experiences in the woods. Their conversation chases away Duck’s nerves, and soon they’re shoulder to shoulder, the human pointing out a particularly notable Spruce. When he lowers his arm, the backs of their hands bump together. Duck turns his hand, an offering to the stranger direction the night is taking. Cool fingers link with his, and he swears Indrid purrs at the contact. 

“Can’t wait to write a friend of mine about this. He’s jealous that I live somewhere so fuckin weird.”

“I take it ‘weird’ is not something you enjoy?”

“I mean, there’s nothin wrong with it. But things like spells and prophecies, magical destinies, leylines, Unseen Courts, they ain’t something I want to stick my finger into. But uh” he squeezes Indrid’s hand, afraid he’ll get the wrong idea, “there are some parts of it I don’t mind.”

The conversation turns towards fate and Indrid’s misadventures trying to get people to heed his visions. A lull hangs between them just as a moan curls towards them from far off in the woods. 

“Jesus, thought folks’d be done by now.”

“Perhaps they got a second wind. Or are making use of the darkness to do things they would not otherwise have the courage to ask for.”

Another moan and Duck shifts, uncomfortable with the fact the noises turn him on. He wants to focus on Indrid, not on his low-level, frustrated boner.

“It appeals to you, doesn’t it? These dalliances in the trees?”

“I mean yeah. Some of us like to touch as well as look, mister just-here-to-observe.”

Indrid lightly whacks Ducks’ thigh, “I told you, I came to see the lights on the lake. They sound captivating. That being said, I am not opposed to doing the, ah, traditional activity with you. But my visions suggest that would be too much.”

“It would, at least so soon after meetin you.” It’s the safest option, and he hates it. 

Indrid drums his fingers on the blanket, “Ah ha! What about kissing?”

“Hell yeah” Duck rolls onto his side, Indrid mirroring him. The fae strokes his cheek, but does nothing else, waiting for Duck to initiate. He’s glad to, leaning in to press an exploratory kiss to cool lips. Indrid chirps softly as he returns the gesture, and Duck moves his hand to caress his cheek and play with the starfall silver of his hair. Curves his fingers down Indrid’s neck, chuckling when the fae teases his lower lip with concentrated kisses.

“AHhnnnnrrrrrrr” It’s half chirp and half purr.

“Fuck, sorry, thought you just had a scarf on.” Duck starts pulling his hand away from the ruff of dark feathers around Indrid’s neck, only for the fae to grab his hand and press it deeper.

“NoOoo” he wiggles closer, hooking an ankle over Ducks calf, “that is divine, please, touch it as much as you like.”

“It’s so fuckin soft” He pets the down, gets that same chirp followed by a flurry of kisses on the cheek. 

“My k-kind come in many form. Mine is uncommon, some would even say offputting due to it’s commonalities with moths.”

“Bullshit. Wait, does this mean you have win--HOLY fuck, I thought that was a cloak!” He lays there, stunned, as Indrid sits up and extends two night skies from his back. The wings, pitch black, dusted with hundreds of small, pearlescent spots are the most beautiful sight Duck’s ever seen. 

“A common mistake. Do you like their coloration? It is very handy if I wish to go for a night flight to clear my mind.”

“It’s incredible Indrid. Can I touch them?”

A playful smile, “Why, Duck Newton, first you come to me professing to be my true love and then ask to touch my wings. You move far too fast for a shy fae like myself.”

“Ohhh, is it a sex thing?”

“To a degree. Perhaps in the future I will permit you to touch them. Speaking of which” he lays back on his side, waves a hand in the air above Duck’s bound chest, ‘am I correct that you want me to steer clear of this part of you.”

“Uh huh. Wish you could touch a little more of me, but the damn things are hard to get rid of.”

“Of course. In that case” his hand skates over Duck’s side, pushing on his lower back to bring them closer, “I shall explore all the other parts of you that you will allow.”

Duck stays on the blanket until dawn peers over the horizon. In that time they trade touches of gentle desire and kisses that grow more fiery with each hour. At times they stop to lay in each others’ arms, Duck explaining how, if he had his way, he’d be like the fae forest stewards, watching over the woods and helping them grow. It’s with reluctance and his fingers carding through Indrid’s ruff that he says it’s time for him to go unless he wants a search party from Kepler to come looking for him. 

Indrid stands, helping Duck up but not letting go of his hand, “I foresee my court duties requiring a great deal of time for the next few months but when I do have time, ah, if you are amenable, I would like to meet with you again.”

Duck brings his hand to his lips, kissing it, “I’ll see you then, ‘Drid.”

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

What nobody tells you about magic rituals is that there’s a fuck-ton of waiting. Duck’s been on his back on this fucking stone slab for at least a half hour and, depending on the whims of the Unseen Court, could be here even longer. 

At the exact midpoint between the spring equinox and the summer solstice sits the Green Marriage Ceremony. The belief is that the ceremony not only ensures bountiful fields, but ongoing peace between humans and fae. Any residents of Kepler who are of age and unmarried put their names into a bowl, and one is selected to fulfill the human side of consummating the “marriage.” In the old days it was mandatory to accept if selected, but the fae now insist that the participant be willing. This year, Duck was the chosen one.

He accepted for two reasons: one was that, once you’re selected, your name is taken out of the running in the future, and why not get the weirdness over with when he can. The other was that he hopes whoever the fae send will be willing to take a message back to Indrid to let him know Duck still wants to see him. 

So here he is, in a white shirt and loose, green shorts, at the center of a stone slab the size of a wealthy mans bed. White curtains form a tent around the slab, flowers strewn about and an unlit lantern hanging from the center of the ceiling.  Juno helped him get the required flowers into his hair, (“gotta help you out how I can because Duck, I love ya, but I ain’t gonna hang around and listen to you get fucked”).

He’s not nervous. It’s not an actual marriage, just a symbolic one. The fact that he’s supposed to spend from now until sunset enacting a wedding night with a fae sounds exhausting, but assuming the fae isn’t a dick it should at least be fun. He’s heard horror stories about the human participant disappearing at the end, but that hasn’t happened since his grandfather was young.

The whispers outside the tent change, more earnest than idle, which means the fae have arrived. He has no idea how many come along with their chosen participant; like Juno he’d rather not hang around while someone he knows gets fucked for eight hours, no matter how great the food and games at the festival are. 

A swoosh of fabric has him sitting up on his elbows to see who his partner will be.

“Oh” sighs a familiar voice, “I did so hope I was in this timeline.”

“Indrid” He sits up all the way. His fae is draped in flowing silver robes, which he doffs to reveal an outfit that matches Duck’s.There’s no hesitation as he joins him on the “bed,” waving his hand so the stone disappears beneath a thick, moss-colored blanket. 

“My, my, they left me the most handsome husband imaginable. Lucky me.” He purrs, straddling Duck and leaning down to kiss his cheeks. 

“H-how’d you end up with this gig?”

“The same way you did; pure chance. I saw you in most futures, though in some you decided to withdraw at the last moment. I am glad you did not.”

“No fuckin kiddin.” Duck grabs his head with both hands, pulling him into a kiss that spins sparks up and down his spine. When they part Indrid sits back, studying him. 

“That is still not how you wish it to be?” He tips his head, indicating Duck’s chest. Duck shakes his head. Then he bolts upright, ripping his shirt up and off to stare at the newly flat space. 

“‘Drid, you, did you just-”

“If that is not what you wanted I can fix-”

“No, no it’s fuckin great! I, I never asked a fae for that kind of help because, well, the whole bargains bein’ tricky thing.”

“Of course. Though I must warn you, I had selfish motives. I wanted to be able to touch all of you.” He pulls Duck into his lap, kisses him as he glides his hands over his chest. When he plays with his nipples the human gasps and the fae grins, “oh yes, I am going to have fun with you, sweet one.”

Duck tilts his head back with a groan, lets Indrid guide them down so he’s on his back once again “Fuck that’s good.”

“Very. But I suggest we start consummating the marriage in the traditional way soon; the futures show everyone getting antsy should we delay.”

“Way ahead of you.” Duck tosses his pants away, stares as Indrid does the same before undoing the tie that helps his shirt accommodate his wings. The feathers of his ruff continue down his shoulders, turning to a light dusting by the time they reach his elbows and collarbone. Duck runs his fingers through and over them as Indrid positions himself between his legs. 

“This does not need altering for you to be comfortable doing this with me?” His fingers rub Duck’s inner thighs. 

“N-not right now. I mean, if you wanna whip me up a bigger dick later I might be ready for that.”

“Noted. My, you are quite aroused already.”

“I around you, it ain’t hard.”

“On the contrary, it is very hard.” He rubs the head of his cock across his folds, grinning. 

Duck giggles, “Christ that was awfulAHHHhhnnnfuck’Drid.” The fae sinks into him with tender determination.

“Nonsense, I learned how to ‘goof’ from the best.” He kisses his nose, purrs, “mmmmm, you fit me perfectly, sweet one.”

“Did-didn’t know fae were on the uh, the bigger siIIiide.” He moans as something catches the tip of his cock.

“Ah yes, that ridged ring at the base is always popular with humans. It seems you are no exception.”

“Nuhuh.” Duck wraps his arms around feathered shoulders as Indrid rocks his hips, “fuck ‘Drid, want it more, want you.”

“Here I am.” Indrid kisses him and the world dissolves. As their lips trace over each other, he dips his tongue into Indrid’s mouth, the hints of sharp teeth making him shiver. In the warm, soft light of the tent, Indrid’s body moving in time with his own, it’s all too easy to see the marriage bed as it could be. A cozy house full of light, nestled in the trees, with a big, soft bed where his beloved fae could comfortably sprawl his wings open as they spent each night tangled together.

A short, high chirp brings him back to earth, Indrid raising up onto his palms and snapping his hips purposefully. 

“Oh, oh yes, Duck, sweet one, yesss.” He thrusts deep, wings abruptly opening halfway, and cums with a charming trill. 

When he pulls out Duck opens his mouth to protest, only for the fae to reverse their positions. Dizzy, Duck puts out his hands to steady himself. They land in Indrid’s wings, close to his body.

“AHfuck, goodness that’s wonderful keep them right there while you ride me.” He guides Duck down onto his cock; if every fae is this quick to recover, Duck’s pretty sure he knows who set the length of the ceremony all those years ago.

The feathers in these sections of the wings are a mixture, some long and satiny, others the downy tufts Duck is growing used to. He sets a slow pace to match the drag of his fingers through the inky heaven of Indrid’s wings. The fae purrs constantly, bucking his hips now and then but otherwise letting Duck lead. That is, until his orgasm starts to build and he grinds down harder.

“AHhhnnn, yes, good little human, so good, please, sweet one, my antenna are sensitive too please touch them.”

Duck gropes fistfuls of wing, “Thought you wanted me to pay attention to these. Make up your mind darlin.”

Indrid growls, yanks one hand up to his head, sending Duck down with an amused yelp. The instant he toys with the base of one, feathery antenna Indrid moans louder, gripping his ass with sharp nails and driving up into him. The ridge on his cock catches just right over and over, sending Duck over the crest of his climax as he pours a groan down Indrids throat.

The fae, still hard inside him, holds him tight and sits up, keeping Duck in his lap. Starry wings encircle them. It’s so intimate, a world that is theirs alone, and being surrounded by those sumptuous wings has Duck bouncing on his cock even as his own body grows sensitive.

“That’s it sweet one, goodness, the way your ass moves when you do that is delicious, I will have to find all the ways to make it bounce and, ahnn, and tremble laterrrr” he breaks off into another trill, gathering Duck even closer as he spills into him. The human rests his check on the feathered part of his chest, sighing happily as Indrid plays with his hair. 

“Since I see you asking, yes, we can try some different things if that part of you needs a rest.”

He makes sure Duck is laying comfortably on his back, then straddles him so his cock drips pre-cum at the center of his chest.

“Use your hand, sweet one, and I will use mine.”

“To do whaAAAfuck, ohfuckyeah.” He hurriedly strokes the cock before him as Indrid cups his chest, pinching and teasing his nipples. They’re sensitive, having gone untouched for years, and that combined with the fact that they’re exactly how he wants them to be makes Duck whimper and eagerly work his cock. 

“Mmmmm, you turn such lovely colors when I play with you like this. Would you--ahhhnn, yes, use your thumb like that--like me to get you some jewelry for them.”

Duck whines, nodding his head as the image of Indrid affixing a god chain to each one floods his mind. 

“I could even make ones that connect chains from here to your wrists or neck; that way I could play with them no matter what direction I took you fromOH, oh, oh, oh” he smirks as cum spatters up Duck’s neck and chin, “you do like that idea. Here I thought it was idle dirty talk.”

“Nope, fuck, darlin, I wanna do so many goddamn things with you, wanna do every filthy thing two folks can do.”

“Is that so? In that case” he crawls a few inches, sets the shiny head of his cock on Duck’s lips, “open.”

Duck obeys, loses himself in the sensation of Indrid ravishing his throat as he tells him how’d he leave him tied on a bed and fuck him every hour. He uses his foresight to keep from pushing to far. All the same, by the time cum drips down to his stomach his jaw is sore and his lips swollen. 

Over the next few hours Indrid fucks him a half-dozen ways, from kneeling on the ground to suck his dick to working his cock into his ass in increments as he coos praise into his ear. 

By late afternoon, Duck is exhausted and Indrid is close to joining him. The fae stays on top of him, fucking him so lazily that at times they barely move. In place of their earlier ardor are whispered confessions and languid kisses, even a few jokes. Duck takes advantage of the lull to groom Indrid’s feathers into order, the fae humming happily under his touch.

Twilight approaches and lamps flicker to life outside the tent. Indrid reaches up, turning on the lamp above them.

“We have about twenty minutes until they call the ceremony to an end. And the new arrangement of light means they can see our shadows.”

In spite of himself, Duck moans.

“Does my sweet husband like being watched?”

“Only with the tent up. Fuck, ‘Drid, the idea of them knowin’ I’m yours. Knowin’ what you do to me…”

A wicked smile flashes into view and then Indrid maneuvers him onto his hands and knees. This time, he thrusts in hard and sets a rough pace, Duck crying out in pleased surprise when he does. 

“I think they deserve a little show. Deserve to see how lucky I am, and how eager you are.” His fingers dig into Duck’s hips as fucks him harder. Duck tries to stifle his next moan, the sound broken and desperate, and Indrid tuts, “None of that. I want them all to hear you. I want them to know how, even after a day of spreading your legs for me, you are still pleading for your husband to fill you again.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid, yes.”

Cool fingers run down his right thigh, through the still-wet lines of cum, “Just look at this. This sinful body of yours is practically covered in my spend, and yet you want more.”

“Yeah, fuck, yes I want it ‘Drid, want you, want you forevermmmph!” Cum-streaked fingers shove into his mouth, don’t leave until he sucks them clean.”

“You do not mean that, that is just these needy holes of yours talking” he gives a sharper thrust for emphasis. 

“No it ain’t, ‘Drid, pleaseplease.” It comes out as a sob and the fae stops, leaning down to hiss in his ear. Outside sounds of townspeople taking themselves in hand or bending each other over just out of sight fill the air, but Indrid’s voice drowns them out. 

“Do you really mean it? Do you wish to be with me?”

“Yes, ‘Drid, for fucks sake, you know I can’t lie. I fuckin hated bein away from you, thought about you everyday. Please I, I think I’m in love with you and if I ain’t, pretty goddamn certain I’ll get there.”

Indrid pushes him down to his elbows, “I feel the same. Now, listen carefully…”

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

The last few minutes of Green Wedding are the most vigorous anyone has seen in years. As the sun sets and the tent goes dark the onlookers agree that the Newton boy won’t be able to walk for days. 

What they are not expecting is to open the tent and find it empty. The fact that the fae guards are equally surprised could suggest genuine spontaneity, some strange agreement between the “grooms.” Or maybe it is simply part of the act. After all, fae are fae. 

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader requests #monster march #monster boyfriend #fae au

[lemonjoonah]

Beastly Gods - Namjoon’s Tale

Pairings:  Hybrid!Namjoon x Reader x Hybrid!Taehyung Word Count: 3.5K Rating: M Genre: Hybrid AU, Thriller, Drama Warnings: Captivity, Manipulation, Swearing, Themes of Obsession and Ownership, Suicidal Thoughts and Discussions. No healthy relationships to be found here!

Summary: Taehyung offers up information regarding you, in order to quell Namjoon’s objections with his plan. But after misreading the situation, Namjoon’s inaction has allowed you to be trapped by what you fear most... Them. 

A/N: A short companion/sequel to Beastly Gods, so PLEASE make sure you read that story first! This tale will be told from Namjoon’s point of view, presenting you with the chance to see his side of things, while also giving you a bit of a buffer from the Little Dove’s current emotional state.

...

Namjoon watches from a safe distance as you leave your home, venturing off deeper into the forest to forage for your village’s needs. His desires tell him to follow you, but that’s not why he’s here, not today at least. With the coast now clear, he can approach your cabin with caution, and wait for the trickster of a god to show himself. He’s always hated this plan of Taehyung’s, feeding you false truths to take you from this place, but that couldn’t quell his curiosity when he was told that his brother had something important to show him. 

“I didn’t think you would come.” Taehyung’s voice reaches out as the door creaks open. His head poking out to survey the surroundings.

“Neither did I, but others were adamant.” 

He steps out from the safety of the dwelling towards Namjoon’s tree. An arm tucked behind his back. “I have something to exchange...” 

“I told you, I will not take her things to give you more time.” Taehyung may have convinced the others but Namjoon has no desire to dispose of his morals for a token that was not truly given by you.

“Fine, you don’t have to take it, but at least look at it.” He puts forward his hand to reveal a tattered novel, “I grabbed it from her shelf, it’s probably the most worn and read story in her collection. An interesting choice really, although I would be lying if I said it doesn’t make sense.”

Namjoon reaches down from the tree to take hold of the book offered to him. Growling with disgust upon reading the title, ‘Beauty and the Beast’. “Are you trying to imply this is what she wants? That she’s asking for this?” He snaps at Taehyung, his eyes narrowing, “Is this how you justify your lies?”

“Who’s the true villain in this story Namjoon? Who is it?”

It’s been so long since he’s read it but the evil is all too clear, “The pride and greed of mankind... but that does not negate the beast’s actions.” 

“I’m trying to say that there are worse things than us. Just like the beast we offer a different freedom. A freedom which she might find better suits her than this life. She might grow to care for us, she just needs a little push out the door.”

“This is no fairy tale Taehyung, in the end we will always remain beasts.”

“Better that it’s us and not those circling the woods. I know you’ve seen them Namjoon. They are looking for our weakness. They’re closing in, and if I can befriend her, so can they. We must do whatever it takes to keep her safe Namjoon, you know that to be the real truth.”

“Whatever it takes...” Namjoon mutters the mantra while clutching the book, rubbing his fingers over the distressed cover. Knowing whether or not he agrees with what is happening, fate will never be kind to you, all he can do is make it more bearable. “You said it’s her favourite?” 

“By far.” Taehyung smiles back to Namjoon.

Namjoon keeps the book in hand and looks to his wings. With a small wince he tugs out a choice feather and hands it back to Taehyung, “For her in return.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to have it.”

...

He never should have listened to Taehyung. The reveal was too much, the look of terror etched upon your face is too agonizing to witness. It’s a painful scene made worse by your recoil when Namjoon attempts an approach. 

As Taehyung finally lets you go there’s a moment of hope when you claim your bag from the floor. But you then make a break for the balcony and out on to one of the tree limbs.  

You sit perched on the branches, as far away from the house as physically possible. Taehyung makes a small gesture to Jimin, indicating that he should be the one to follow you into the tree, but as his wings open, Namjoon pushes him back.

“She obviously wants a bit of distance. Can we at least give her that for now.”

Jimin looks back to Taehyung who gives in with a nod. 

Namjoon’s gain is short lived though, his mouth turns dry as you pull out the bouquet of feathers. Plucking each quill from the assortment one by one, you release them into the air, and watch as they float down to meet the snow covered ground. It’s difficult to say if it’s a method to taunt, or a way of showing you simply don’t care, but regardless of motive it still stings Namjoon’s pride to see his love disposed of in such a way. 

Even after all their gifts have been discarded, you continue to rest there in indifference, not acknowledging a single appeal from any of them.  It’s obvious you need space, but they can’t all wait forever. Taehyung starts to send a few of them away to keep watch over the forest. They need to survey the village's discovery of your disappearance. Making sure the residents come to the conclusion that you broke the agreement by leaving of your own accord. If there are any questionable thoughts regarding your absence the flock needs to know. 

Taehyung may be maintaining the facade of a victor, but it’s easy for Namjoon to see the cracks forming within. He watches as Taehyung becomes agitated, his wings twitching as the minutes continue to pass. Handling rebellion is one thing, but he doesn’t appear to do well with detachment. “I need to leave you in Namjoon’s care for a short while Little Dove, but I’ll return soon.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” You chime back.

A smirk crawls into Taehyung's face, your retort proving he still holds power over you.

Namjoon can’t believe what he’s hearing, how dare he choose to retreat now. “You can’t just leave her there Taehyung. You did this to her, you need to fix it.”  

Taehyung leans into Namjoon, meeting his eyes with confidence. “Why do you think I’m leaving? Right now she sees me as her biggest threat. If I step away she might let her guard down. I need you to talk to her and be an advocate on my behalf. ”

“What makes you think I’ll agree to that?” The anger within Namjoon continues to rise, his feathers ruffling out behind him.

“If you don’t, I’ll make sure you never get to see her again. If you choose to work alone Namjoon, that’s where you’ll end up.”  Taehyung whispers his final orders before taking to the sky, “I don’t expect her to fully accept me just yet, but at least convince her that she’ll be safe with us within the nest.” He’s obviously worried you might attempt something foolish out here, and for once Namjoon agrees with him.  

The wind starts to build bringing with it more chilling air and a few flakes of snow. Without the others to support him he grows nervous over ensuring your safety.   

“You should go inside Little Dove.”

“No.”

“It’s getting too cold for you out here.”

“I don’t care.”

“Very well.” Space be damned, if you are determined to put yourself at risk he will have to move in closer. Namjoon finally takes the leap and joins you on your branch, settling down a couple feet away from you.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You shift further out on the branch despite the fact that it now bows from your weight. 

“Since you won’t go inside I’m staying out here until you do.”

“I don’t want your concern, or your pity.” 

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” Namjoon’s frustration starts to show, this is not how he wanted your first conversation to go, but he has only himself and Taehyung to thank for that. “What would you have us do? Truly, I would like to know your answer. What would be the best scenario for you?” 

“Let me go.”

“You would be running off to your own death. Human rebellion is not seen kindly by other hybrids. Out there you’re a threat to be conquered or disposed of.”

“Is that what happened to the others? The ones who left?”

“Yes. We didn’t bother trying to keep them, we had no use for them. We approached and warned them before they left but each one choose to take the path that would soon result in their demise. We have no plans to make the same mistake with you.”  

“You don’t think I’m strong enough to survive on my own?”

He has to make his point. Keeping you safe at any cost. He inches closer, his wings unfurl  before swoops down upon you, capturing you in his arms tucking your back against his chest.   

“What the- Get off me!” 

You struggle in his arms but he holds fast, it’s hardly a stretch of his abilities to keep you locked in his grip. He pulls you back further from the edge not wanting the bough to break while you clash with him. “If you can get me to let go you can have your freedom. But I am trying to show that we surpass you greatly.” 

Launching your free hand at the nearest wing, you grab a fist full of feathers, threatening to pull them from their place. For a brief moment you hold a glimmer of hope in your eyes. You must think you have the upper-hand, but there’s no pain that Namjoon wouldn’t endure on your behalf. “Go ahead, take them. They’re yours.”

You release his quills in an instant. Though he would have preferred if you had gone through with your threat. Favouring your anger over your fear.

“They’ll always be yours,” He whispers lowering his head to your shoulder as you grow limp in his clutches. Your breathing deeps to a sob. 

Knowing he’s proved his point, he’s careful to ensure that you are steady on the large branch before finally releasing you. Your tearful eyes gazing down to the ground below. 

“Even we hybrids would struggle if we went our separate ways. Those who fly solo are extremely vulnerable. We may have disputes on a variety of aspects, but we’ve all agreed to stay together for our own survival.”

“You should have just left me in the forest then...” You wipe the back of your arm across your eyes, not letting a single tear fall down to the feathers below.

“You would have preferred the village over the beast?”

“How did you- the book,” Your sight flickers back to the house which contains your possessions. “You have my book don’t you?”

“I thought you would’ve preferred to escape the village just like the girl in the story... even if you must reside with the beast.”

“Her life was a fairy tale compared to mine, her village far more tolerable and the beast far less terrifying. That,” You point out to the open fields across from the forest, “That was my beast to tame. My prince, my happy end was true freedom.” Your cherishing gaze shifts to a glare as it returns to Namjoon, “You think yourself the beast? No, you and your brothers take a far worse role in the story. You resemble the god that forced the trials and sadness of life upon her, the one who put her in the village to begin with.”

Namjoon can’t help but feel struck down by your real feelings towards the book. “I’m sorry I misunderstood, but we can't change the situation. Trust me when I say that beast is far worse than the ones you’ll find here. This is the only freedom you can have.”

“Then I choose to spend it out here in the cold.”

Namjoon watches as you curl your head into your arms taking a crouched position to hide from both him and the falling snow. He folds out his wing above you, careful not to touch you again, but instead providing shelter from the elements.

You remain silent as he watches over. Not meeting his eyes though he focuses on yours. Jealousy overwhelms him with regards to the way you covet the sky, wishing more than anything you would look at him with the same desire. On top of the battle over your safety, Taehyung has done so much damage by lying to gain your trust. Namjoon tries to reason that he would have told you the truth, he wouldn’t have hidden his true role. But having you beside him now, he knows that he too would do anything to keep you safe and in their arms. Even if you struggle against their hold, it’s better this way, you’ll see. He plans to do everything within his power to help you accept this new life. 

You sit there together for another hour before your gaze starts to falter, closing your eyes to the world around you. Namjoon takes your arm worried that you might lose your balance in your half asleep state.

“Let go of me, I want to stay out here.” You murmur.

“If you do you’ll fall-”

“Then let me fall,” You plead. His chest tightens as you open your eyes with tears again, “Please Namjoon just let me fall.”

“I promise I can make this better, give me a chance. Let me at least try to undo some of the damage we’ve done.” This fear is temporary, your anger won’t last forever, but that fate is permanent. One he would never let you choose.

Namjoon has no choice but to take you back inside the house. He wraps your arms around his neck and lifts you against his chest. With little strength to fight him, you resort to conveying your fears.

“I don’t want to see him. I can’t stay here with him.”

“Then I’ll keep him away. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Why should I believe you...”

You start to twist and turn in his arms when the bed comes into view. Pushing away as he sets you down on the mattress. Namjoon can read the panic in your face, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be safe in here, the skylight window is well beyond your reach leaving only one exit, the door which he locks behind him. 

It only takes a few seconds for you to start pounding on the door. “No! Namjoon let me out! Get me out of here!” 

He sits down in front of the door not leaving your side for a second. “This is the only refuge I can give you right now. If you don’t want to see him it’s the only work around.”

“Namjoon!” Your pleas become increasingly hard for him to resist. There’s a long pause before you make an offer, one he thought would never come from your lips. “You can take me away, you can give me what Taehyung promised. It would just be us, isn’t that what you want?” You are his Little Dove, learning to tempt with a new song. “All you have to do is let me out!”

It’s his greatest trial not to reach for the lock, but he’s soon released from your pull, when he spots two sets of black wings on the horizon. Yoongi and Taehyung have returned from their surveillance, thereby shackling you in place.

Yoongi lands first with news of the villagers. “Their search party found her footprints in the snow. They could see that she stepped over the threshold and into our territory.”

“No recourse then?” Namjoon asks with optimism. Minimizing the damage will be key, it’s doubtful you’ll take kindly to any acts against the village. 

“No,” Taehyung adds, “They’re too afraid after seeing that she only made it a couple feet before her tracks disappeared.” He then sets his sights on the bedroom door behind Namjoon, “Is she asleep?” 

Namjoon nods hoping the lie will grant you some peace. Taehyung reaches for the handle, Namjoon’s ready to stop him, but Yoongi manages it first with a few words. “You should let her get some rest.”

The new leader appears to take the thought into consideration. He pulls back his hand and steps away, though his gait is riddled with signs of impatience. It’s doubtful that he’ll leave you alone for long, prompting Namjoon to further guilt him into letting you be. 

“You shouldn’t go in there, the only reason she came in was with the promise that you would leave her alone.”

Taehyung pauses his step, a growl builds within his throat and he bares his teeth towards Namjoon, “I told you to advocate for me. Not make promises that prevent me from seeing her.”

Namjoon rises mirroring his stance and anger, “You’ve broken her, do you realize that? She is so lost that she wanted to fall from this tree. She actually considers that as a way to escape. This is your fault.”

“No, I saved her from that forest, from our enemies,” Taehyung counters.

“At what fucking cost? Your lies had too steep a price. She doesn’t trust any of us when she might have if she had been told the truth from the beginning.”

“So she could turn us away at the edge of the forest? No, we can deal with this. We can show her what the world has become for humans. Let her see that we really are the lesser of many evils.”

“If you want to gain her trust, you’re going about it backwards,” Namjoon explains. “We have to acknowledge the original sin, and what came about because of it.” 

Taehyung looks ready to throw him from this tree, instead he pushes Namjoon back against the door which he guards. “Don’t imply that you know her better. I’ve spent longer than you at her side, I know what sins she is capable of bearing.” His mouth twists into a sinister smile, “While we were gone, did she ask you to take her away? Did she express an interest in flying away with you?” Namjoon looks down at the floor not knowing how to respond. One of Taehyung’s hands reaches up to clutch his jaw, his talon like fingers digging in and forcing Namjoon to meet his eyes. “She did, didn’t she?” 

Before he can come to a response Taehyung’s attention is ripped away with the sudden entrance of another. Jungkook bursts through the open door still in flight, creating a wave of destruction, marked by broken furniture, as he makes an attempt to land.

Taehyung drops his hold on Namjoon demanding an explanation for the sudden disruption.“What the fuck Jungkook! Why couldn’t you just-”

“Seokjin and Hoseok...” Jungkook interrupts taking deep dragging breaths. Despite the cold beads of sweat can be found dripping down his face and neck. “They’ve caught an intruder... a pack member.”

Shit. The wolf-hybrids that have been toying with the boundary line. Namjoon cuts in with his own questions too impatient to wait for Taehyung to take the lead. “Did you see any others? Do we know how many we might be dealing with?” 

“They’re trying to get that information from him now.”

With his back now blocking out Namjoon, Taehyung steps in to assign his orders. It’s obvious he feels threatened, he’s picked a hell of a day to take leadership of the flock. “Jungkook, you’ll take me to where they’re holding him. Yoongi go find Jimin, we can’t have him alone out there. And you...” Taehyung turns round to meet Namjoon again as the others ready to leave. “We’ll finish our discussion later. I’ll give her rest of today to herself, you should know though, I plan to see my Little Dove tomorrow.” The smile is back on Taehyung’s lips, as if his point has been proven. He had gotten you out just in time. And even if Namjoon was tempted by your offer to leave the wolves have now added to the barrier blocking that escape.

As his brothers take flight again, he knows his thoughts should be out there with them and the looming threat, but his immediate concerns fall back to you. Taehyung knew you would try and lure him. It’s understandable that you would want to escape by any means necessary, temptation can be a powerful tool. You’re afraid, clinging to and using whatever might help keep you aloft. Nevertheless he can’t allow this to continue, for your safety and his.    

Free to step away from the door he sets his sights on a thin book which graces his shelf. The only salvation he can give now is something Taehyung did not, the truth, as a story that he too treasured in his youth. 

He slips the small doctrine through the gap under the door. It holds the teachings of how and why his race gained power, all while condemning yours to the forest. Inside you’ll find a written account of the revolution that was sparked by the love between a hybrid, and his human.

Namjoon whispers to you on the other side, hoping that you’ll listen, “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I need you to understand, I’ll do whatever it takes...”

...

The Beastly Tales will continue in the prequel: Conquering Fear 

#taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere bts #bts hybrid au #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #namjoon/reader #taehyung/reader #rm x reader #v x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts hybrid #bts thriller au #bts beastly gods

[maxrev]

Intimacy Prompts: Falling asleep in their arms. For mshenko :D

Sooo, apparently I CAN write prompts. Just takes me a while lol. Knox seemed to like this one and I can honestly say, I was not expecting this...domestic fluff. Hope you like it! My renegade has a soft side. He knew? 

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Knox leaned his head against the seat in the skycar, exhausted from his physical therapy session. There were days he felt he was making more progress in going backwards than forwards; today had been one of those days. 

He fought against closing his eyes and sleeping on the way back to the condo, located in the newly built high rise over English Bay. Kaidan's family had one before but it had been destroyed during the Reaper invasion.

"I have to make a quick stop and pick up some things for dinner, go ahead and close your eyes if you need to."

Too tired to even lift his head, Knox rotated it left to study Kaidan navigating the streets of Vancouver with calm assurance. Maybe he should have let him drive the mako all those years ago. No. He’d enjoyed himself too much and the reactions of the crew. Especially the man sitting next to him. 

"I'm fine," he said, rotating his head back to the right and further, watching the world rush by in a blur. 

Silence greeted his words and swore he could hear a wealth of reproach within it. He was even too tired to care. 

"It's just you and me. You can relax your guard, Knox." Frustration laced the smoky voice.

Irritation crept into his, "I said, I'm fine."

God, he sounded like a belligerent child. Felt like one, too. Tired, cranky, and ready for a nap. "Your concern is noted but I'd rather wait until we get home." 

Warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought - home. He never thought he'd have one of his own, had never expected to die saving the galaxy. 

He still thought he sounded like a whiny child but exhaustion nipped at his heels like a recalcitrant pup and he was unable to keep it at bay. Kaidan pulled up to the store and Knox bit his lip against a groan as he pulled himself up by the armrest, ready to get out. 

"You don't have to come in. I just need a few things. Stay here and relax." 

"I told you, I'm--"

"Fine. Yeah...you have.” Now he could hear exasperation. “Look, I'm not trying to be pushy, just...take care of you." 

Knox followed him into the grocery store, feeling like hed kicked a puppy. He knew Kaidan cared, just had a problem accepting it. Even after all this time. Learning how to look after himself from the age of four, a lifetime of doing so couldn’t be  undone in a few years. For the moment, though, he had other things to worry about. It took every bit of concentration in his state of exhaustion not to stumble over his feet and get tangled up in the cane. God how he hated the thing. 

He shuffled behind Kaidan who walked slowly to accommodate him; another irritation. Stubborn and too proud to admit it, the thought crossed his mind he should have just stayed in the skycar, let Kaidan shop in peace. Like a kindergartener, he probably needed a nap or Rip Van Winkle for twenty years. OR maybe a Snickers. 

Lost in thought, he hadn’t paid much attention to what Kaidan put in the cart but as they checked out, he saw all of his favorites; the makings for homemade mac and cheese, steak, some kind of dessert. Knox’s heart soared at the same time he felt like a complete scrooge, biting the man's head off while he was doing everything to pamper him in spite of the rotten attitude. 

"Thank you," he said as they walked back to the skycar. He shivered inside his leather jacket; the temperature had dropped since they’d left physical therapy. 

"You're welcome, Knox. Always.” 

Back at the condo, Kaidan unloaded the groceries, ordering Knox to go relax by the electric fire with the ambience of genuine crackling flames. This time he listened, wanting nothing more than to rest his leg and hip, still protesting from the session earlier. He all but sagged down to the couch - carefully - propping his leg on the coffee table and reached for a book he'd been reading about the Andromeda galaxy. He may not be up in space anymore but he could still read about it and Andromeda interested him, thinking of the arcs which had headed there. He missed the stars, the only place he’d ever truly felt at home.  

Pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of Kaidan preparing a meal in the kitchen, for him, made Knox smile for the first time today. Okay, so the stars weren’t the only place he felt at home, not anymore. 

Kaidan appeared as if summoned by his thoughts, carrying a large mug of hot tea. "Cinnamon and apple with a bit of honey." 

Closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma, Knox took a sip, sputtering as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He nodded and responded with a coughed, "Perfect." 

Kaidan chuckled, "Did you think it wouldn’t be hot?"

Grumbling, he told him, "Go back to the kitchen," but there was no heat in his tone. 

"Yes, dear," the words were thrown over a shoulder with a laugh. 

 Knox sipped the tea carefully, enjoying the taste and the warmth spreading through him. Between the tea and the fire, he was beginning to feel drowsy. He hoped dinner wouldn’t take too long, he might fall asleep. His stomach growled loudly in disagreement. 

A short time later, Kaidan came back with two plates piled high with homemade mac and cheese, green beans and medium rare steaks, handing one to him before taking a seat on the couch. They ate in a comfortable, companionable silence; something else Knox had never had but this was easier to accept than being cared for. 

The warm, rich gooeyness of the mac and cheese was like a balm to his soul. Knox could understand why it was called 'comfort food.' Of course, the steak was good as well, seasoned perfectly and cooked just the way he liked it. He set the fork down on the plate and sighed with contentment. 

A warm fire, a good meal and full stomach, a man who cared about him - even if he couldn’t voice how much he appreciated him like he should. Exhaustion pulled at him, a whisper in his ear to let go and tumble down into the void of sleep. 

"Seconds or dessert instead?"

Knox snapped out of his stupor and stared at the empty plate in his lap as if it held the answer to the question. With no answer forthcoming, he made a choice, "Dessert." 

"Should have known," Kaidan answered with a laugh. “You and your sweet tooth.” Grabbing the plates, he went back to the kitchen. 

Knox couldn’t help finding sweets so appealing. Never having access to much food in general living on the streets, let alone anything sweet, he had become addicted. Saying no wasn't easy for him, though he had limits like everything else in his life, except books...and Kaidan, who came back in with one plate, handing it over before taking a seat. Knox moaned when he saw what it was - a thick, chocolate brownie covered in hot fudge and vanilla ice cream with a glass of cold milk. 

“I can’t believe I just heard you moan over dessert with such abandon when you have me right here. What am I, chopped liver?” 

Knox glared at him, which garnered a smirk in response. His brain sluggish, a thought occurred to him when he glanced back at the brownie, adorned with his favorite toppings. "Why only one? You're not having dessert?" 

Usually, Kaidan ate along with him. They were still biotic after all, needing the calories even if they weren't jumping from one mission to the next anymore. 

"I am, after you decide you can't eat another bite, which as you know happens often,” he teased.

This close, Knox noticed the laugh lines crinkling the corners of warm brown eyes; lips turned up in a soft smile, the scars stretched across them; wings of gray in the black hair at each temple...and was hit with a wave of love so strong, he nearly dropped his plate. The strength of the emotion blindsided him, leaving him breathless. 

He glanced down at the brownie, not really seeing it at all, terrified of  this unrestrained emotion. Control was at the center of his very being. Off balance and floundering, he took a bite of his dessert, one much too big, and nearly choked while trying to swallow it down. Kaidan reached for the glass of milk, thrusting it into his hand. Grasping it like a lifeline, Knox took a large drink...nearly choked again but it helped the brownie slide down and he was able to breathe again. 

"You okay?" There was a note of concern in his voice. 

"Y-y-" he coughed again to clear his throat, "Yes." He croaked, voice sounding raw.

Kaidan continued to stare at him, as if he didn’t quite believe it. But Knox took a few more bites of the brownie without any more catastrophes and as predicted, handed it over. The laughter in the brown eyes dispelled any remaining concern. 

He moved, leaning back against Knox to get more comfortable, then cleaned the plate and set it on the table. It spoke volumes to his concern, when any other time, he’d take it into the kitchen. They remained like that for a while, basking in the warmth of the fire, Knox yawning first, then Kaidan, who snuggled down further. Soon, his upper body was resting against Knox’s legs. 

“Does this hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

The dark head turned, brown eyes gazing up at him, searching his face for a lie. Not finding one, he got comfortable again. Carefully, Knox placed his arm around Kaidan’s chest, letting it sort of...hang there. He was slowly becoming accustomed to touch but usually Kaidan was the one touching, not him. Yet, it felt right. Holding Kaidan, letting him be relaxed and cared for. 

He thought, maybe, he should say something as he mulled over his earlier revelation, give voice to it...tell Kaidan how he felt. Out loud. But as he fought for words, opening his mouth to confess all, a soft snore came from the man lying across his legs. 

A huff of laughter slipped from his lips. Of course, just as he made a momentous decision, the object of his speech had fallen asleep but this time, it happened in his arms. 

#mshenko #mass effect #prompt writing #fluff #domestic fluff #I can't believe Knox let me write this #mallaidhsomo