1 - 20 of 66 Works by Make_It_Worse
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Connor’s resolve cracks along with his voice, “But what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t make it?”
It’s harder than usual to find his cocky self-assurance, but he manages for Connor, “You know I’m too stubborn to die at sea without kissing you one last time.”
“Don’t kiss me then,” Connor mutters, staring at his feet. “Come back to me.”
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Some things that are lost find their way back to us.
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“Hank.” The room fell into a breathless silence at the tone. Connor had called out Anderson’s name with a sharpness approaching a reprimand. It was common knowledge that the two of them were engaged, but no one, not even Connor, could talk to Anderson with that attitude. At least, not without paying some sort of price.
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Anderson and Connor are overstressed, overworked, and undersexed leading up to winter break. Anderson is being a right grumpy bastard. Connor decides to do something about that.
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This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags.Series
- Part 20 of Brat Tamer
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I participated in a fake WIP meme on twitter and someone suggested "Chloe and Kara - knitting." It was only supposed to be a sentence, but my brain took off.
Series
- Part 8 of Follower Appreciation
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Being dead is a lot duller than Connor anticipated. Not that he’d given the matter much thought at the age of thirty-one. Sure, he was starting to see laugh lines bracketing his mouth and he’d given his dermatologist’s recommendation for daily sunscreen a lot more thought, but he wasn’t nearing the end of his life by any means.
In his time since he’d taken a bus to the spine, Connor had learned Death often stopped for those not looking out for him. Death was an ok enough guy after Connor had gotten a chance to know him; cold and weird as hell, but ok. It wasn’t really his fault that he was in charge of punching people’s tickets. Connor felt a little sorry for him after the years crept on and his rage at his untimely demise faded into a yawning eternity of people watching.
Of course, Connor was bored, but people loathed Death. They cursed him. They shrieked in his face and wailed their misery at every parting. Death didn’t even get to choose, which Connor declared as “Complete bullshit.” After all, if a man has to be one of the most reviled and feared characters in the human psyche, he might as well get to earn it.
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Connor might be a bit dead, but there's more to life he needs to discover. -
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“Where are we going?” Connor attempts to affect a bored tone, but tension digs its talons into his guts. He knows who ordered this—
Hit blares like a warning in the back of his mind, but he pushes it away. If Anderson wanted him dead, he wouldn’t still be among the living. No, Anderson had taken pains to make this a relatively clean, silent extraction. He shudders, not letting his mind follow that thread of thought. Anderson’s known to play with his food before biting into it. Connor can practically feel teeth on his jugular.
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Two rival mob bosses vying for the throne over their trash heap of a festering city.
I wrote this, according to the time stamp, back in November of 2018. I'm not sure why I never posted it *shrug*. It's a little rough as I hadn't written fiction in years at that point, but it's still fun.
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They’d wanted different things. Connor was too young; Hank was too old. Awkward double dates and blistering fights over the future had built the tension to an epic crescendo. Connor had thought it was their penultimate fight. He thought they’d talk it out, like they always did, and buy a little more time before they accepted the inevitable.
They’d fight then they’d fuck and everything would look a little better in the morning light. He hadn’t realized it was how Hank had chosen to say goodbye. He hadn’t realized he’d wake up to Hank with a suitcase in his hand and a grim line in place of his mouth.
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Inspired by current events and the lyric, "If the world was ending / You'd come over, right?"
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Even in his earliest days, cases rarely took more than a day to close. After decades of casting his net across the globe, he’d honed his craft to razor precision. On an off day, he could open and close a case within the hour. If he felt particularly on point, he could pull it off in fifteen minutes. He didn’t like to rush these things, though. Humans were delicate and prone to breaking.
This human, however—this Hank Anderson—was vexing.
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This was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic about the RKs as matchmaking cupids, but then I went and Made it Worse. I've never written the Hanakahi Disease trope before, and this isn't quite that, but it's the closest tag for what's happening.
There is hope even if there is sadness. Hold out for the eventual happy ending. Just know it has some ragged edges.
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Connor inhales with every passing second, each thicker and harder to draw in until it feels like he’s inhaling tar, heavy and suffocating, directly into his lungs. His heart hammers and his fingers tremble as unspent adrenaline forces its way to the surface, urging him to act, to run, to scream, to attack until—
Two soft knocks.
So quiet, Connor almost misses them over the frantic throbbing of his heart. He tries his best to silence his steps, but his feet always seem clumsy compared to Hank. Hank was the better tracker, better hunter. Connor had all the intelligence in the world and it had amounted to less than the meager bag of beans they’d managed to harvest their first year.
His fist shakes as he raises it and waits.
And waits.
And remembers.
The memories come less often now and with less clarity. Time and terror had a way of eroding happiness down to a vague impression of an emotion he used to know.
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Connor and Hank decide to ride out a mysterious illness afflicting the nation in idyllic quarantine. A quaint farmhouse, quiet hours kissing in a field, love. Everything will be ok, right?
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Quarantine inspired me to write. So, naturally, I had to Make it Worse. -
For a Moment, Happiness by Make_It_Worse
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
03 Mar 2020
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“You,” Jaskier’s hand gestures at Geralt’s boot as if this dirt-besmirched part represents the whole of him. “You’ve seen more sunsets wax into sunrises than I could ever dream.”
This earns him a throaty hmm for his efforts.
Jaskier throws his hands to the sky in animated dudgeon, “It will hurt, Geralt. What we are doing. If we cross the line—“
“I know,” Geralt finally gives voice to his part of the conversation. Jaskier wonders if it would be better for the both of them if Geralt remained silent.
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This idea wouldn't leave me be. Sorry in advance for any emotions or feels.
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Connor’s nerves sizzle as Anderson takes his time twisting and knotting intricate patterns. Although still clothed, he can tell by the knotting that it won’t be difficult to navigate around them. By the time Anderson’s done, Connor’s on the verge of shattering.
Anderson won’t be the one to break him; not like this.“Connor,” Anderson rests his hand on Connor’s twitching stomach. “What did your mother say that has you so upset?” It might be a little underhanded to start the discussion this way, but Connor didn’t seem to be in any state of mind for conventional conversation. Connor glares at him, catching onto Anderson’s intent much too late.
His mouth drops open, ready to snarl out a malicious tap when Anderson’s palms his cheek, “You’re hurting. Talk to me.”
It’s not fair. It’s dirty to play him this softly.
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This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags.
Series
- Part 19 of Brat Tamer
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“Oh, Hank,” Connor’s tone is soft and sweet as creamed sugar. “I have an eternity. I can harass you for the rest of your life if you insist on being stubborn.”
“Yeah, well. That’s your opinion.” Hank turns on his heel not bothering with the door.
It’s probably stupid to leave it open for any criminal to walk in, but, for the time being, Connor can’t follow him. He’s going to bed. He screams when he sees Connor’s reflection staring at him in his bathroom mirror. Yes. Screams. Like a frightened child with skinned knees.
“I’d rather not converse with you like this, Hank.” Connor’s reflection frowns at him.
“And I’d rather not have you in my bedroom, but here you fucking are.”
Connor rolls his eyes, “This is just an imprint. I’m still at your front door, keeping watch.”
“Watch for what,” Hank grumbles and for the first time, Connor’s sensual mask slips.
“I am not the only thing seeking you,” he answers, choosing his words with care.
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Hank is in danger, you see. Connor makes him an offer he can't refuse.
I wrote this a thread on Twitter so the pace may be a little wonky. Vampire shenanigans ahoy!
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“Something bothering you?” He calls, feeling a mix of mild amusement and annoyance at Connor’s small tantrum.
Connor mutters a response but all Anderson can make out is fuck and tired.
Anderson recognizes the tone; Connor is walking on dangerous ground, “Care to repeat that?” Anderson’s chest puffs over his folded arms and Connor takes in the stance for the warning it’s meant to be.
He doesn’t heed it.
“I said I want to fuck but if you’re too tired that’s fine.” It is clearly not fine with Connor and something dark and delicious creeps up Anderson spine as Connor catapults over the unspoken line he shouldn’t cross. Playtime.
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This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags.
Series
- Part 18 of Brat Tamer
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“We had a deal,” Anderson drops the words slowly, carefully, into Connor’s ear, “and you haven’t asked me nicely yet.”
“Sonuvabitch!” Connor attempts to thrust himself down on Anderson’s dick, but Anderson’s huge hands pin him in place. He’d been so close and then his mouth had gotten the better of him.
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In which Connor stumbles upon one of Anderson's slight insecurities by accident.
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This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags.
Series
- Part 17 of Brat Tamer
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“STERN!” Hank Anderson bellows from his front porch when his dog Sumo comes limping up the gravel drive. He knows the whelp of a rancher can’t hear him across all his acres, but still. It feels good to release his rage at the man.
Everything had been fine until Mr. Toothpick and his too clean shoes bought the property across the way. Hank wasn’t even sure what the point of the land was to the man. From what he’d heard, Connor Stern was a city slicker that would sooner kiss a pig than perform manual labor.
__Connor and Hank meet and strike up a feud on the same day. Things get interesting when Connor hurts himself on the job and Hank learns he is Connor's emergency contact.
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“Hank? Wake up.” He blinks blearily, annoyed. It feels like he’s only just drifted off when Connor started tapping his shoulder.
He blinks again and is instantly aware something is very, very wrong. He tries to reach for Connor in the dark and his arms catch at the wrists.
“Connor,” his voice is dark and deeply displeased, “untie me right now.”
A small light blinks into existence on their bedside table. Connor shivers as his fingertips glide away from his phone casting the dim light.
“I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about this,” his hand rests on Hank’s chest and the bed dips beneath him when he comes to sit.
“Connor.” Anderson says his name like a command and Connor's fingers flinch as if to comply before he clenches them closed.
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This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags. It falls somewhere between them getting engaged and getting married. Not necessarily linear with the last part of the series.
Part 16.
I held a poll and body worship was the winner.
Series
- Part 16 of Brat Tamer
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“You know why this is happening?” Anderson asked casually while attaching the leash to the collar with a small clink.
Connor’s yes had come out tight and quiet.
“Yes, what?” Anderson punctuated the question with a sharp tug and Connor had jerked forward an inch or so.
“Yes, sir.” Connor met Anderson’s gaze, hoping to imbue him with a shred of pity.
At the first slide of the machine fucking into him, he doesn’t think his puppy dog eye routine had much of an effect.
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Connor is in trouble, you see.
This is part of an ongoing D/s series. Heed the tags. It falls somewhere between them getting engaged and getting married. Not necessarily linear with the last part of the series.
Part 15.
Series
- Part 15 of Brat Tamer
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“I don’t think so, love. Fair is fair. If I can’t have you, no one can. Not even you.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp nip at the junction of Connor’s neck and shoulder. It makes him melt without fail and Connor doesn’t disappoint. He practically pools into Anderson’s lap.
“That’s cheating,” Connor whines as Anderson’s fingertips ghost along the edges of Connor’s swelling erection beneath his pants.
“You’re the only one stopping us, sweetheart. I could take you right here, right now. Finger you and suck you until you come.” Connor’s body grows tauter the more Anderson speaks, closing his eyes against the onslaught of mental images.
“I could tongue you open until you’re trembling and sloppy. I’d fuck you face-first into the cushions to quiet your screams, wrap my fingers around your cute little cock until you’re begging to come again.” Connor’s resolve teeters precariously and he twitches violently at cute and cock.
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Connor is on a campaign of abstinence before the wedding until that proves too difficult for both he and Anderson. Ever the problem solver, he figures it won't count if he's sleeping >:)
This is part of a D/s series. Pay attention to the tags.
Series
- Part 14 of Brat Tamer
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“Please! You can’t. You don’t understand!” He makes it halfway to the dais before a guard’s sword is at his neck.
“You must be his father,” the queen’s cold, dark eyes take in his features, reading the resemblance of father and son like a map.
An idea—one last fleeting hope—leaps to his lips, “He isn’t man-grown. He’s still a child by our laws.” His words shake with his terror for his son and he waits.
“Laws have been broken,” the queen says without a hint of consideration. “I cannot afford to appear weak. I am not moved by your blubbering.”
It was only then that Hank realized he was crying. Not heavily, but a tear trickles into the corner of his mouth like salt on a wound.
“Take me instead,” he falls to his knees partly to beg but mostly because they can’t bear his weight any longer.
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A vaguely Beauty and the Beast AU. Connor may be a beast, but there are bigger monsters lurking in the shadows.