#Allow me to disappear of the face of the earth in peace

[nightlyforrest]

answer my damn asks 😞🤯😨😂😡😡

[karvroom]

NIGHT PATROL

hawks x pro hero!reader

⟢ summary: It had been months since anyone had seen you, excluding news outlets and countless civilians you saved. Each passing day, worry grew amongst your small group of Hero friends, especially Hawks. It wasn’t until a fateful night of patrol that he had some closure regarding your absence.

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Sitting atop of a roof of a tall apartment building, you found it peaceful. You left the noise below, finding solace in the cool night air. Your legs dangled off the edge of the building, swinging to the beat of a song currently stuck on repeat in your head. You propped yourself up by placing your hands behind you and leaning back.

A loud WHOOSH came from the rear of the building.

“This doesn’t look like patrolling to me.” You didn’t have to turn around to know the winged hero, Hawks, was standing directly behind you with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes met the top of your head, inspecting every hair follicle in sight.

“Since when are you my boss?” You spoke, gaze wandering the busy street below. You watched as thousands of people passed. It may have been late, but a handful of individuals indulged in the night life, living it up in Japan as they pleased. You found it fascinating how everyone had their own lives. They each had a home to go back to, kids to tend, dinner to make, pets to feed, etc. You couldn’t fathom how unique everybody’s lives were from one another. It was impossible for you to know everything about anyone, no matter how much you tried. Your eyes settled on a man dressed for a gala, trailing his figure through the crowd. Your raspy voice followed, “I can see from up here.”

Hawks scoffed, easing more into the atmosphere as he took a seat next to you. He finally felt the breeze he’d been missing all day; taking a long breath, he could smell the street vendors’ food. He could’ve gone for some American food right then.

“Did you just come here to flirt?” You asked, not bothering to give him a glance of acknowledgment. He followed your gaze, trying to keep his eyes off your alluring features. You furrowed your brows at the citizens, your lips thinned into a line, the occasional twitch in your nose, he noticed all the small details.

“I’m not flirting.” He admitted, almost pouting at that.

“You know me.” You finally made eye contact, tilting your head to slightly rest on your shoulder. “You know I don’t mess around on patrol. So, what is it that you want?”

“Am I not allowed to check on my coworker that I haven’t seen in nearly two months?” He left you silent.

It’s true, you hadn’t spoken to him or really anyone in quite sometime. You really did disappear from your friends. You abandoned them all to focus on your career as an aspiring hero. It had been your dream since you were little to become a hero—it didn’t have to be number one, but you were hoping at least top ten. Right now, you were eighteen in the charts; it didn’t sit right with you. You knew you had to push yourself, otherwise all that work the Hero Commission poured into you would be for nothing.

“Am I not allowed to have some alone time?” You spat after a minute of deep thought. All he did was stare at you within that time frame. Hawks examined your face, trying to understand your current mindset. Had you gone rogue? Were you depressed? Was it too much for you? He couldn’t tell.

“You can, but, seriously, it’s like you dropped off the face of the Earth.” Hawks wore a concerned look. He moved his hand closer to yours, your pinkies almost touching. “No one has seen you—not unless you’re fighting a villain or just so happen to catch you at the right moment at your agency. It’s concerning (Y/N).”

His facial expression contorted to one of sympathy. Hawks’ fingers twitched before gently placing his hand atop of yours. You let out a small sigh, trying not to look the hero in the eye. You removed your hand from the cement, running your hand through your hair in distress. He noticed your odd lack of your usual touchiness.

“They’ve just been scheduling me for nightly patrols more, y’know?” Your eyes scanned the sky, watching birds take flight through the grey distant clouds. “It’s nothing serious.”

The redness in your eyes told a different story. You hadn’t been getting much sleep. Hawks could see a difference in your gaze. Your eyes used to hold so much light, covered with a glossy finish. It used to look like you were always about to cry, even though you were the most emotionally constipated person Hawks had probably ever met.

Hawks admired your ability to control your emotions, setting them aside in the most difficult situations. But now, he was getting antsy and frustrated with your responses.

“I know you’re lying.” He admitted, drafting out a heavy breath. You froze, your heart rate picking up ever so slightly. Hawks could tell, he could see the guilt ridden all over your face. “You’ve been requesting nights only. Your front desk lady told me so.”

Dammit Denice. You took note that her pay would be getting cut and to have a long talk with her about your wishes. Whatever happened to secrecy in this society? Yeah, Hawks wasn’t just someone of the community, but that included the Number Two hero when you swore her to keep her mouth shut.

“I find it more peaceful at night.”

“That’s when most crimes happen. Doesn’t seem very peaceful to me.” Hawks snorted. The light breeze hit his gold tresses, messing up his hair (making it even more messy than it already was). He scooted closer to you, “C’mon, I miss our patrols. Remember? We’d always schedule to be together.”

Of course you remembered, how could you not? You and Hawks would almost always be seen together. If there was one of you, best believe the other was somewhere close by. You almost smiled at the fond memories that were shattered by your poor decision making. You ruined it for yourself.

You could admit, it was unjust of you to “ghost” everyone. Hell, you were having a mental crisis, straining your health to become a top hero while juggling your social life. But at what cost if the rankings hadn’t budged in weeks? Was it worth it at this point?

Hawks noticed the solemn look on your face, trying to find a way to make you feel better. He didn’t know what to say or how to approach you. Clearly, you didn’t want to be touched or bothered at all, but he wanted to talk to you. Hawks needed to. It was hard not seeing you for months, but now it was even more difficult. You were standing right in front of him and he could tell there wasn’t anything for him to do.

“Things change, Hawks.” You shrugged, sadness and regret creeping into your tone. Your guts threatened to spill from your mouth. You wanted to say more—something else, but you didn’t know what. You hated being put on the spot.

You swung your legs over the ledge, your feet finally touching solid ground. You repositioned yourself to lean comfortably against the wall that Hawks remained seated on. You crossed your arms, demonstrating the awkwardness you brought to the conversation.

Hawks heart shrunk in size at the sound of his hero name coming from you. Of course, you were on the job. Even then, you guys used to be unprofessional and speak each other’s names like they were forbidden fruits. Now, strictly Hero names? It was foreign to him. So much had changed and he hated it.

Little did Hawks know, he was part of the problem.

As much as you denied it, there was something between you and the winged hero. Something beyond friendship; it was evident to everyone around you. Hawks would always make silly advances at you, offering to take you on dates, to sleepover, try to be around you as much as possible. You secretly adored it, but couldn’t risk a relationship getting in the way of your career path.

The pain and hardship you would endure throughout your time as a Pro Hero had already begun taking a toll on you. You didn’t want to add anymore weight on your shoulders. At least, that’s what your mind was telling you. Your heart spoke differently. You wanted his attention, you wanted to come home to him, to be there for him whenever he needed. It was far more complicated than that when you’re risking your life everyday.

“I miss you.” Hawks blurted. He wanted to keep his cool, laid back demeanor afloat, but it was faltering with the foreseeable outcome of this conversation. It was going nowhere near the direction he had hoped.

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice rose. The blonde was completely shattered. The pang in his chest only growing, threatening to burst from under his skin. Hawks couldn’t pinpoint what he felt in that moment. Anger? Anguish? Heartache? All he knew was that it pained him in a way words couldn’t begin to describe.

You pushed away from the ledge, starting to walk away before he could respond. You had heard enough for one night. You were already hard on yourself, you didn’t need a scolding from someone you deeply cared about.

Hawks got off the ledge, speed walking to catch up to you. He caught your wrist in his hand. You whipped your head around, forcing your gaze to meet his. The shadows of the building covered his features, making him seem like an ominous illusion. His grip tightened only slightly, you tried to wriggled your hand free.

“Do you ever lay off?” You snapped. “Hop off my dick, Hawks.”

Now, this, wasn’t how he remembered you. Maybe he was still caught onto the thin strings tethered back to the “old” you, but he didn’t just feel heartbroken. Hawks felt heated at your words.

“No.”

“”No”? “No” what, Hawks?” The way you spat his name—no, his hero name in a bitter rage. A flame ignited inside of him, he didn’t know what to call it as the heat began to swallow his insides whole. It burned his throat, tickling the tip of his tongue. He watched as you aggressively quirked a brow at him.

In one swift motion, Hawks pulled you closer to him, causing you to stumble over your own feet. He scooped you into his arms, coddling you against his chest.

“W-What’re you doing?”

With no answer coming from his mouth, Hawks’ wings stretched from his back before taking to the sky. You looked over your shoulder to see the ground beneath you distance itself.

“Hawks, let me go.” You looked back at him panicked. He could feel your body trembling from the height you were at. Once you were high enough in the air, he started to fly faster, away from the building. Your breathing quickened, “Put me down!”

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll force it out of you, (Y/N).” Hawks glanced down at you before dipping lower from the sky. The speed you flew out was dangerous. You tried closing your eyes, afraid of the view, but you couldn’t when you heard cars honking from beside you.

Hawks had flown into traffic, maneuvering between the colorful vehicles of the city. It wasn’t everyday you would see the Number Two hero of Japan risking his life for fun, especially with another.

People thought he had lost his mind, and you were beginning to think that too.

Coming to a stop light, Hawks swerved up into the air. The strong wind messing up the front of your hair, swirling the strands into a knotted mess. Your grip tightened around Hawks. You refused to look down at the people below you.

Some civilians were taking photos and videos, hoping to receive clout for the two heroes they captured together.

“What do you want me to say? Just put me down, Keigo!” You demanded, your voice cracking. You pressed yourself as close as possible into Hawks’ chest, the fur of his coat ticking your face.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere.” He stopped midair, the sound of his large wings flapping continuously. It was the only thing keeping you from falling, the only thing keeping you alive at this very moment. You were at about the same height as the hospital building next to you. If you fell, at least that was there. “Don’t think I’ll let you off so easily, (Y/N). It’s not what I want to hear, it’s about you telling the truth.”

“You want the truth?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You could hear his tone dripping with sarcasm. You didn’t have to look up at him to know he was wearing a smug look on his face.

“Hawks—“ You started.

“And we’re back to square one.” Hawks let out a heavy sigh. You could feel his hands start to loosen on your body and panic shook you. You clung onto him, refusing to let go. A chuckle escaped his lips, “So clingy.”

That comment pissed you off. Clingy? You were being clingy? What you were doing was trying not to die. But if he wanted to fan the flames, you could too.

You let go, rolling out of Hawks’ arms and free falling in the air. The blonde was in shock, mouth agape as he watched your body play against gravity for three seconds. Then it clicked. He dove after you.

One thing was your Quirk was not meant for flying or falling. Hawks knew that very well. And how dare he test you, especially on a day you were feeling very ballsy. Of course, you knew Hawks would never let anything happen to you. However, you were starting to get worried the longer you went without a certain Hero’s touch.

The sounds of pedestrians shouting increasingly grew louder. Horns of cars passing by multiplied between each second. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable death to hit you hard as you splatter against the concrete; guts and all. You could imagine the headline of the newspaper already: ‘NO. 18 HERO FALLS TO DEATH—embarrassing for her’.

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of a strong pair of arms’ embrace and hot breath on your neck. The heavy breathing of you and Hawks colliding with one another as he looked at you in disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy!” Hawks yelled, not out of anger, but surprise. Before you could respond, he mustered what little strength he had left and flew you both to an all-too-familiar balcony; his balcony.

He gently placed you on the cold floor of his picturesque high rise balcony. His heavy boots hit the ground, sending a sound of discontent throughout the atmosphere. Hawks, distressfully, ran his fingers through his hair, looking in the opposite direction of you.

You spoke, in an unusual calm tone, “We can’t be here. We’re supposed to be on pa—“

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Hawks stalked toward you, slamming his heavy duty boots against the ground. It sent chills down your spine how aggressive he was and how unnerved he looked. He grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze, “(Y/N), you could’ve fucking died.”

The crazed look in Hawks’ eyes made you uneasy yet prideful. You didn’t know you had that effect on him. Then again, he would’ve felt the same for anyone else left in his care. Oh, but how wrong you were about that.

“But I didn’t,” Your brows narrowed as you spoke in a stern tone. Hawks maneuvered hush body to be at complete eye level with you, making the scene feel even more intense. Whiplash was playing in your chest cavity, the tempo increasing with every passing second. You swallowed, “and I know you wouldn’t have let it happen.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” This was a simple slap on the wrist compared to what Hawks was thinking. He lowered his head, taking a look at the ground. He inhaled, smelling the soil that rot in his makeshift garden. Hawks lifted his gaze, finding you watching his vulnerable state.

“Don’t you do that again. You know how much I hate flying.” You lightly pushed away from him, taking a step back until your back almost hit the glass entrance to his apartment.

Hawks followed you, taking a large step forward, leaving about two feet of space between your bodies. You could practically feel the leftover anxiety radiating off of him. Regardless, Hawks maintained his cool guy demeanor as he talked, “Well, I wouldn’t have if you had just answered my question.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” You pointed, your index finger hitting his chest. His rock hard chest. You never really took the time until now to admire his physique. Yeah, it was almost like every other hero’s, but it was the way he presented himself. He hid beneath his large coat, only revealing the compression shirt that hugged his upper half so fittingly. You were a little shocked the first time it was revealed to you.

“You’d give one if your really cared.”

“If I really cared?” With raised brows, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Really? You’re gonna pull that crap on me?”

Hawks mimicked your movements, the sound of his coat shuffling filled your ears. If the warm jacket hadn’t been covering him, you could only imagine the flex of his biceps with the simple gesture.

“You got in my way.” You finally caved, earning a confused look from the winged hero. “You-You have always been in my way. Ever since we graduated from the stupid Hero Commission together.”

You stuttered, not because you were nervous, but the frustration building up from trying to understand the big feelings that were being unveiled.

“(Y/N), what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean, Keigo?” More emotion crept into your small outburst, begging to be unleashed. You avoided eye contact with him, looking anywhere but his soft, pink lips. “Something about you. You’re stuck in my head. I-It’s like I can’t get you out.”

“I—“ Hawks started, you placed a finger over his mouth to cut him off.

“I’m not done.” You retracted your finger slowly, ensuring he would let you go on with your rant. You were finally starting to come to terms with what was brewing inside you and you didn’t want him to ruin it; even if you were making somewhat of a fool of yourself. “You annoy me, even when you aren’t around. And you make me feel…balked? I can’t understand why I feel this way and it eats at me. Anytime I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Addicted. That was the word you were looking for. You felt addicted to him. Not by the way he made you feel, but him in general. The way his smile would instantly brighten a gloomy afternoon or how he actually cared. The way he cared for you was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You didn’t like it. You didn’t understand what was goin on in your mind or heart, it was a jumbled mess of intricate affections waiting to be fished out by you.

“I don’t understand.” Your hands flew at your head, dramatically grabbing your hair as you sighed in frustration. “Something about you.”

Hawks couldn’t bare to listen to any more of your babbling. He already knew what you were trying to say, but could tell you were having a (painfully) hard time to piece together the puzzle of sentiments.

The blonde took one step and it was over. It was as if his body moved on its own. Hawks closed the gap between you two, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek and the other making way to your waist as he indulged in your kiss of life. The flavor of sweet summer’s finest peach coated his lips, making him want more. Your lips molded perfectly together.

You allowed it to happen, you hadn’t realized that this is what you wanted. This is what you needed all along to figure out what was “wrong” with you. You lifted your arms, placing them gently around his neck, running your fingers through his hair in the back. All of your worries fluttered away, however, you could feel something new. Butterflies flapping their little wings as they made way around your stomach, tickling your insides.

Finally (sadly), you both pulled away. Bewilderment filled both your eyes. It was clear Hawks was just as surprised as you were. His mouth was slightly agape while his hands lingered your body. Hawks’ calloused fingers ran along your arm, making way to your finger tips.

He tried to hide his look of sultry with one of charm, “Does that solve your dilemma?”

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A/N: it’s so rushed, i’m sorry. i just HAD to post this right now. it’s been sitting in my drafts for a good week or so.

[thevillainswhore]

Tension

Pairing: Massage Therapist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You’re devastated when your usual massage therapist becomes unavailable at the last minute, but an unexpected trainee is more than happy to handle you.

Warnings: Smut (fing-ering fem receiving, mentions of a-nal play, m-asturbation male receiving)

A/N: Unbeta’d, dividers by saradika and firefly-graphics - also a massive thank you to my babe @rookthorne for helping me edit my header, loves you bitch 💗

Listen, just please use your imaginations with the oil, let’s pretend it’s safe and can be used for… things 👀 okay thank you, enjoy x

Resting your head against the back of the waiting room leather chair, you await your appointment at your regular spa. Headache already starting to disappear from the eucalyptus aroma of incense seaping into your skin.

You needed this. The long work week draining you of all common sense to not hit your coworkers over their heads every two seconds, due to their incompetence. Now, it has finally come to a close, and you could take the opportunity to indulge in your guilty pleasure.

This was the only way you could continue to keep your head above water. A monthly treat to yourself of a two hour long full body massage - undisturbed peace and soft hands kneading the stress out of your body until it felt like you were floating.

And it was literally heaven on earth to let go of the strong willed nature that came with your work, placing your care into the hands of someone else. Giving up your responsibilities of taking charge and allowing another to take care of you for a little while.

It felt so good to let go. Forgetting all of your worries that seemed silly in the midst of the background waterfall noises that lulled you into calmness.

Jesus, you weren’t even on the massage table yet and you already felt so much lighter.

With that thought, the lovely receptionist, you’ve become familiar with from your numerous visits, walks out from the back room and addresses you with an apologetic expression.

“Miss, I’m so terribly sorry about this, but an unexpected personal emergency has come up for your regular therapist and she’s had to leave before your treatment today.”

Your face drops. The excited anticipation bubbling inside you from at last being able to relax, dying out instantly at her words.

Of course it wasn’t your therapist’s fault that you would miss out on the only pass time that gets you through the month. Of course, it wasn’t her fault you’d probably go home and scream into your pillow. Yet, you couldn’t help your internal frustration at the disappointing outcome.

It didn’t help that you hadn't had an orgasm for god knows how long too. The band inside was you on the verge of snapping. A massage being the only way to soothe the built up tension over the month and you feared you would have a mental breakdown from the added stress.

“Listen, I wouldn’t normally suggest this,” she goes on to explain as you lift your head with intrigue, “but we have a new massage therapist in training, free for your time slot. His clientele base is still quite small. However, he’s received great reviews and he’s happy to cover your treatment today - if that’s something you would consider. Would you like to meet him before coming to a decision?”

Fuck it. It’s either this or try to relieve yourself with your shitty vibrator at home that’ll probably die out before you can finish anyway. And you really didn’t want to make the dent in your bedroom wall any bigger from the other times you’d thrown the useless thing at it.

So, what harm could it do?

After agreeing to an introduction with the trainee, telling yourself you should at least see if you feel comfortable enough with him, you stand outside the private massage room, waiting to be invited in.

Eventually hearing a breathy shout of “Come in!”, the receptionist opens the door and allows you to step through, the seemingly young man’s back turned towards you as he fiddles with last minute preparations for your massage.

“Just tryna get everythin’ ready for ya, won’ be a minute.”

After finishing up and a final appraisal to the set up, the trainee spins on his fit, claps his hands together and looks at you directly, “Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’! The name's James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, sweetheart, I’ll be lookin’ after’ya today.”

Holy shit, where the hell did they find this one?

Bucky’s mid length chocolate hair ran rogue with an errand piece falling into his eyes. It took all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear, or maybe even scratch your nails through his hair just to grip it and tug to see if he whimpers.

Woah, settle down girl.

A tight white womens beater, stretched across his pecs, showcased his bulging arms and the pure muscle you couldn’t tear your eyes from. You were pretty sure you were drooling, but you couldn’t give a single fuck right now.

If you had to guess, you would have pinned him as a farmhand or a ranch owner from down south before he became a trainee massage therapist - it definitely would have explained his devilishly built form and his southern twang that has your knees weak.

That’s not the only reason I want my legs to be shaking.

It most definitely isn’t difficult to imagine Bucky with a cowboy hat sitting on his head, thick thighs clenching to keep himself steady riding a horse. Or how easy it is to picture him throwing stacks of hay over his shoulders, dirt covering his sweat glistened body as his pure strength gives him no trouble carrying them to the stables.

You don't even realise you still haven’t spoken a word, stood dumbstruck with your mouth gaping open and lost in your unholy thoughts about the living wet dream about to rub you up, completely forgetting another person was in the room with you.

The receptionist speaks up, “Are you comfortable with James stepping in-“

“Yes!”. Your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment from how quickly you answered, clearing your throat and steeling yourself not to continue making an idiot of yourself. “Um- yes of course, yes… not a problem at all.”

You miss Bucky’s sly little smirk as you make the effort to keep your gaze towards the floor, his tongue peaking out and wetting his lips as he gives you a once over.

Things were about to get interesting.

“So sweetheart, I’m gonna step out while you get changed, take all clothin’ off, start off with lyin’ on’ya stomach for me and cover y’lower half with a towel - I’m sure y’know the drill by now.”

Reverting your attention back onto him, your pulse quickens at his nonchalant conversing of stripping naked. Okay, it was standard procedure for the therapist to go over protocol, but that talk from him is sinfully criminal.

Walking up to the door, Bucky suddenly turns around, “Oh and don’t forget to take off the underwear too, darlin’, be back in a tick.” Bucky winks and slaps the doorframe, finally leaving the room.

Fuck my life.

You have a couple of minutes to compose yourself before Bucky comes back. Changing out of your clothes was almost a relief - sweat clinging to your skin from meeting him and that freaking accent that drove your mind wild. Your panties seemed to agree too, considering the sticky mess that clung to your folds as you pulled them down your legs.

As you now lay face down on the table, folded towel covering your ass - back and legs on display - you anxiously wait for Bucky’s arrival, muscles subtly twitching from either your stress or the need to get fucked.

Probably both.

The door opens to your only knowledge of hearing, sight only focused on the floor from the carved head cushion allowing your face to sit through it. Goosebumps raise on your arms as you listen to the door then quietly close and footsteps get closer towards your direction.

You hold your breath when you see boots stop into your peripheral and legs bend to show a pair of thick thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.

Yep, definitely Bucky.

Lifting your head slightly to look at his face when he doesn’t speak, you choke on your spit when you find him shirtless, stomach marveled with so many abs. You would count, but you’re a little afraid you’ve lost brain cells from his presence alone. And all hope is gone when you see his jeans strung low on his waist - ‘v’ line tantalising your dignity as you wonder how morally wrong it could be to drop to your knees and lick it.

You’re not proud to say you don’t take anything he says in as Bucky begins going through what’s to be expected for your treatment. Ever the professional as you think he probably tells you what to do should you like any adjustments made with his pressure or technique. Luckily, you seem to have gotten away with it as he stands and picks up some oil, tilting your head back down to do some breathing exercises.

“Jus’ the massage today then, sweets? Y’know I wouldn’t mind throwin’ a free facial in there for y’too with the trouble y’had.”

What the fuck?

Your brain short circuits. Surely he must hear what he’s saying out loud… right?

Inwardly shaking your head, you put it down to the lack of intimacy you had gotten recently, mind conjuring illicit fantasies and turning everything he says into something dirty.

You stutter to reply, “N-no, that’s o-okay, just the massage i-is fine.”

The small smile on Bucky’s face is so innocent, like he hasn’t just rebooted your entire being. “Alrightie then darlin’, lemme get started then.”

Guess them breathing exercises went to shit.

Bucky begins slicking his hands up with the massage oil, lathering between his fingers and ensuring all crevices are glistening - especially his veins that bulge all the way up his forearm.

“I’m warnin’ y’though, I’m quite good with my hands.”

You don’t have time to stop yourself blurting the next automatic thought in your head out into the open.

“I bet you are.”

If you could slap yourself you would. Cringing in despair at your ability to make yourself look stupid. You expect things to turn awkward, for Bucky to show unease and even stop the session altogether.

To your surprise, you feel a whisper of a breath caress your neck as he mumbles the very thing to probably cause your death.

“Oh, you have no idea, darlin’.”

The start of the massage truly had your nerves settling down and calming you enough to actually enjoy yourself. Yeah, you still struggled with keeping your cool with Bucky’s huge hands caressing you with his sensual touch, but you managed to stop your squirming and relax.

Bucky however, couldn’t keep a straight head for the life of him. Softness of your skin and the feel of your curves literally in the palms of his hands had his cock threatening to bust the zipper of his jeans.

Timid little thing you were, so skittish when you saw him and he just had to have a little fun with you. That soon backfired on him the second he got a hold of you. Fingers itching to just smooth down your luscious body and open you up like his own personal present.

Unfortunately, he had to make do with rubbing his erection against the edge of the massage table to give him some relief. You were just so sexy - a stunning face and an amazing figure - never mind how fucking adorably shy you were.

Just my type and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a piece’a ya, sweetheart.

Was it wrong for him to be thinking of a client this way? Of course. Would Bucky most definitely get fired before he’s even completed his training should anyone find out? No doubt about it. Was that going to change his mind over what he was about to do next?

Absolutely fucking not.

You had succeeded in keeping your moans and whimpers locked away when Bucky reached particularly sensitive spots on your back. No, not the ones that felt a little too tender, the places his touch elicited your growing desire - as much as you tried to hide it, he could still hear your little intakes of breaths.

But that’s not what I’m after sweetie, I wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.

So, he comes up with a plan.

“Oh darlin’, I can feel all those knots in y’upper back, been workin’ so hard ain’t ya, sweets?”

Fuck, you really had. And Bucky’s praise paired with his seductive voice makes you feel all gooey with neediness, trying to stop yourself sinking into your fuzzy headspace as you reply back. “Y-yeah, I mean I guess so.”

“How ‘bout we try somethin’ different, hm?” Bucky begins to explain, “Reckon if we got y’to bend them legs into a kneelin’ position then it’d feel so much better.”

The sincerity of his voice has you rethinking your suspicions towards how exposed you might be. You still had the towel to cover anything private and while your old therapist never suggested anything like this, Bucky may have learned something new and wanted to try it out.

So you begin to do as he’s asked. “Um, l-like this?”

“Tha’s it, arch that back for me, sweetie.” Again, you follow his instructions all too easily. “Little more for me- there ya go, jus’ like that.”

Bucky can’t help the groan that slips out as he observes the thin towel curve over the shape of your ass. You’re not much higher from the first position you were in, but the subtle lift in your legs, and bowed back allows a perfect image for him.

And a perfect chance.

“Gonna work on y’legs now, sweetheart, lemme know if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ good.”

You don’t have a chance to reply as Bucky begins to knead the muscles in your legs. An unrestrained moan escaping from your lips as he uses his thumbs to work the tension out. You feel as though you've been transported to another world, eyes rolling to the back of your head in glorious pleasure.

Meanwhile, Bucky is having the time of his life watching the jiggle of your ass every time he switches up the motion of his strokes. You don’t seem to notice the towel slowly shifting upwards, revealing the bottom of your ass cheeks to him.

He just needs your legs to spread that tiny bit more so he can see your pretty little pussy.

“That feelin’ good for ya, darlin’?”

Apparently, you let go of all inhibitions from the satisfaction Bucky’s hands bring you, all but unbashfully moaning, “Mhmm, god yes Bucky, feels so fuckin’ good.”

That’s what I love to hear.

“Amazin’. Doin’ so great for me sweetheart, jus’ let ya’self relax and Bucky will take care a ya.”

The dip of your back deepens as you unknowingly start to bring your legs more under you, ass canting up like a cat as Bucky’s thumbs rub close to the crevice under your ass cheeks.

He’s so dangerously close to his prize, he can literally see the wetness that’s spilled from your cunt, coating your inner thighs.

Fuck it.

Bracing for the worst, Bucky’s thumb runs over your pussy lips and your breath hitches as the bolt of electricity that shoots through your body. Now fully aware of his intentions, you expect yourself to feel a slither of outrage, some kind of anger at him for letting it go this far and yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to stop him.

Bucky pauses his thumbs in question, waiting to back off as soon as you deny him and allowing you the freedom of consent.

But, you want this.

The fact he stops his ministrations within an inch of your cunt has you unable to hold back your loud whine, ass pushing back into his hold to try and get him to carry on.

As much as Bucky loves your enthusiasm and he’s almost certain you want this as much as he does, he needs to hear your verbal consent in order for him to proceed. “Ah ah, sweet girl, need to know y’want this, need to hear y’say it.”

With great difficulty, fog clouding your head, you manage to mumble a whimper of agreement. “Fuck, y-yes pleaseee Bucky, give it to me.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Bucky places both thumbs on each cheek and spreads them apart to reveal your pretty, slick pussy, hole pulsing, almost begging to be filled.

You whimper as you feel his long pointer finger slide through the mess you’ve made and teasingly give your throbbing clit a little tap for good measure.

The little shit even has the audacity to chuckle at your desperation.

“Look at ya darlin’, such a fuckin’ good girl for me, ya think we can get y’a little more wet, hm?”.

He laughs at your stutter, no worries for him though, he can’t wait to make sure he leaves your head empty enough for not one single thought to cross your mind.

Bucky gently slaps your leg and bends over you to whisper in your ear, “turn around, pretty girl.”

The last defence of the towel covering your modesty falls from your body as you quickly move to lie on your back, too fucked out to even notice the breeze that hardens your nipples and exposes your tits to Bucky’s gaze.

He could’ve just picked you up and fucked you against the wall right then and there. But Bucky’s a patient man, and he’s not about to put his pleasure before yours. He wants this to last.

Straddling the table as he combs his wild hair back, Bucky grabs your thighs over his forearms with feral need to drag you down towards him, placing your legs over each of his and separating them. This was his personal slice of heaven.

The view of your cunt and the bounce of your tits has him gripping his cock over his jeans, shaky breaths rattling his chest over how turned on he is from the sight - you really were a goddess, a doll for him to play with until you couldn’t walk.

Releasing himself and grabbing the bottle of oil from the table next to him, Bucky looks directly into your eyes, his own hooded as he unscrews the lid. Your high pitched moans and whimpers have his nerves set alight and he can’t wait to see your face as you cum from his fingers alone.

“Buck-Bucky, what a-are you d-doing?”. It takes everything in you to lift yourself on to your elbows, looking down to see him hovering the bottle over your pussy.

“Y’trust me, sweet girl?”. Fuck, with that voice alone you’d put your whole faith in him.

You gently nod as you never take your eyes away from his, that wicked smirk adorning his face as his eyes light up from your answer.

“Good.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you feel the cold splash of oil drip against your pussy and your shocked moan fills the room as your arms give out.

The liquid rolls down your folds, down to your puckered hole and the thought quickly surpasses Bucky of what your reaction would be if he suggested a little anal play.

First things first, Barnes.

Right.

After emptying the remainder of the oil over you, Bucky tosses the bottle onto the floor, and begins to run his fingers over your cunt, shining in all its pleasurable glory. Trailing down to your hole, Bucky begins to press one finger inside you, stopping at the first knuckle only to take it back out and repeat his torturous teasing.

You can’t help your squirming - hands fisted tight in your hair as your toes curl. The relief of a second finger added to the first only lasts for a minute as again, he torments you by going no further than his first knuckles. All you want is for him to slide his fingers as deep as they can go, but Bucky is far too mesmerised with the glisten of his fingers and the feel of your fluttering little pussy.

“W-want more, baby, p-please Bucky, need more.”

The term of endearment as his feasted eyes snap up to look at you, has his cock twitching - you looked so fucking beautiful like this for him and the pleading in your features has him going soft on you.

Always was a sucker for pretty girls begging.

“Need more, sweetheart? Alright pretty girl, y’can have some more.”

You soon figure how Bucky was holding out on you as he fucks you with his two fingers at a quickened pace, the squelch of mixed juices from your cunt loud to your ears and you’d be embarrassed if Bucky didn’t enjoy it.

And he really did, the sound of your arousal leaking out of you because of him leaves him feeling untamed, beastly, as his veins bulge from his arms. His cock is aching, hard from how much he gets off on your pleasure - he knows he can make it better for you, though. He won’t be happy until you lose your voice because of him.

Slowing down, his deep rumble has the knot in your stomach tightening even more, “Think y’can handle another, sweetie? ‘Cause I think y’can, think this wet pussy needs to be filled up till she can’t take no more.”

With that, Bucky eases a third finger along with his other, the stretch just right to have you wailing out with consistent cries of his name.

Curling his fingers against your upper wall, Bucky searches for that spongey rough patch - he wants you to see stars and he isn’t giving up till you do.

“Hold on a sec sweets, lemme just-, find… oh, there it is.”

All of a sudden your back shoots off the table and your scream of pleasure drowns out the sounds of waterfalls in the background.

“Fuck!”

“Tha’s right darlin’, lemme hear y’scream for me.”

You grip his wrist to keep his hand fucking you, his perfect rhythm too good for you to speak something tangible. But you can’t have him changing anything, you need him to keep everything the same, so you can finish.

Bucky still finds it so fucking hot, sweat from exertion gathering on his neck and dripping down his chest. He couldn’t care less, he just wants to see you cum.

He physically has to use his free arm to force your legs open, it won’t do that you’re trying so desperately to close your legs around him. No. He wants to see you tremble in his hold. He’s fucking craving it.

“C’mon baby, know y’so close sweet girl.”

You are so fucking close, so near to that orgasm you haven’t had in so long - you’ve turned dumb, world blurring around you, only important thing in your mind getting to finish.

And you’re done for as soon as Bucky places his thumb on your swollen clit and circles.

“BUCKY!”

He watches as your shrieks fall from your mouth. Tremors rack through your body, legs finally able to close around his hand as tears from the intensity roll down your temples. You’re in your element and he’s never seen sexier in his entire life.

White cream drips from your pussy as Bucky slowly takes his fingers out, not able to help himself as he plays with your folds and starts to fuck your cum back into you.

Soon enough, you begin to calm down, heavy breathing with your occasional whine of overstimulation from his motions blessing his ears.

He leans down to pepper kisses over your heaving stomach and underneath your breasts, other hand stroking over your heated skin and up to your cheek.

“Easy girl, that’s it, deep breaths.”

Bucky continues to talk you down and strokes your sweaty hair back from your face, your eyes closed and mouth open, panting.

He stops his ministrations altogether, but keeps his fingers inside you, his body connected over yours to settle some of his weight on you and bring you back down to earth.

Giving you a couple of minutes to come down from your fluffy clouds, Bucky analyses all your signals to make sure you’re okay and that you feel safe - and once he completes all his internal checks, he flashes you a dazzling smile.

“So… this may be a bit forward a’me, but what d’ya say I take y’out on a date tomorrow night?”

You chuckle breathlessly at his little joke - as if he didn’t already have his fingers still in your cunt. “Only if you answer my question.” you counter back.

“Sure thing, lil’ darlin’.”

Trying to keep your expression aloof you ask, “What did you do before you started training to be a massage therapist?”

He looks like a little confused puppy as he cocks his head and frowns, but answers anyway with a cheeky squint of his eyes.

“I used to work on my mama’s ranch back home, sweetheart.”

Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as Bucky begins picking up the steady pace of his fingers again, fucked out smile on your face in rememberance to your guesses from earlier.

Fucking knew it.

He may not have the slightest clue what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t have to know as long as he’s the one who’s making you smile like that.

And, he already can’t wait for your next meeting as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his zipper to bring his dick out and start fucking his fist while he enjoys the sight of his other hand fucking your cunt.

“Now, we got another hour to make sure ya get what y’paid for darlin’, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

A/N: who doesn’t love a happy ending, right? 😈

[viridwns]

Do you know when you'll be able to finish Miscommunication, part 3 with Yan!Douma, Yan!Akaza, Yan!Kokushibo, Yan!Muzan x FEM!Reader?

I have a draft saved rn. It still needs loads of editing and I still need to write the ending. In the meantime, I'll give you a small sneak peek as a reward for being so patient with me ;)

THIS WILL BE EDITED IN THE FINISHED PIECE! IT IS BUT A ROUGH DRAFT

-

Shut up shut up shut up—

Your fingers clench around the fabric that was covering your chest.

It was soaking wet; having absorbed most of the water that was percolating down your hair and skin.

Your heart, it was beating too fast. It was loud in your ears, and by the gods, it hurts.

You pushed yourself even deeper into the hollow trunk of a rotten tree. Your breaths were shallow and uneven.

Calm yourself. Otherwise, they will find you.

You tried to scare yourself into absolute silence, but you were already frightened enough.

You knew everything you did was too loud. With their inhuman sense of hearing and smell, this wouldn't cut it.

You hoped the deer blood that coated your body would suffice as a scent blocker. The still moist substance mixed with your sweat, tears, and even blood if you were unlucky enough to have cut yourself while running.

You begged that the dead of the innocent prey wouldn't be in vain.

Splinters dug into your abused flesh. You bit your lips and squeezed your eyes shut. All to keep a sob from spilling over your lips. You just had to wait for first daylight, the first few rays of sun. Then you would be free.

No,

Not even then.

You had to escape this hell bound country. Maybe then you could find peace.

It's mid summer already—it was still early autumn when I visited Japan.

Has it really been that long? You felt your hands starting to shake at the thought of having disappeared from the face of the earth for so long.

This was the first time you were successful in avoiding their grasp. All it took was pretending to play house with them and gain enough trust.

You had to hold yourself back when they allowed you to go outside the first time. It was hard not trying to leg it the first few times, but it got easier over time when you were carefully working out your escape plan.

Muzan should be recovered by now.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity and feeling miserable, you stopped fighting them. They had been suspicious, which you expected them to be. It took you months to break the armor around Muzan and take his trust in your hands. You had twisted it, played with it, and made him think that you loved him. You felt yourself leaving your body whenever you sweet talked him, fed him delusions; it pained you too much to be mentally present.

You knew how keen Muzan was on having a routine. You gently merged your outside time in his regular schedule, so instead of having to beg to go outside, he almost forced you. It was routine, was it not?

It would be at dead of night when you walked through deserted woods. Taking in every path, every misplaced branch, anything that could make you recognize where you were. The number of monsters walking with you variated every night. Usually, it was all four of them. Sometimes, it started with just you and Muzan, and the rest joining mid walk.

The minute you saw the lake, your plan was set in stone. You subtly suggested cooling down in the water, already loosening your kimono a little. Douma answered with throwing you over his shoulder and almost teleporting to the lake.

The rest didn't really know the intent behind it. You were never this bold with them, certainly not bold enough to suggest skinny dipping.

Your lips started to twitch due to having strained a smile for too long, but you had to pull through. Even when Douma started to undress you, his fingertips adressing every curve with care, you pulled through.

This went on for weeks. It would have been suspicious if you wanted to go swimming every night—you just waited for Douma to suggest it again, which he did, a lot. Even Kokushibo made a subtle comment about it once.

But you knew tonight was the night to make all gears turn.

Muzan had been the one wanting to go for a swim. You had purposely riled him up the whole day long just so he would make this suggestion. A calculated action turning into a wanted outcome.

The other three were out on a mission, just like you had planned.

It was just him and you.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your lips on his, your mind out of your body.

Muzan was in a state of delirium when you cried his name, begged him for more. You knew what he liked, what he expected, and like no other night, you gave it all. You defiled yourself, made your body an object he could own.

Just for this one chance.

When he was at the peak of his high, when you knew his senses were jumbled and overloaded, you pushed a mouthful of wisteria into his mouth—death's kiss.

-

Hihi

[angelstate]

Husband!Price x Wife!reader

Captain Price isn’t a good man, he never claimed to be one and barely fills the requirements to be considered a moral being in the most mundane aspect of questioning life scenarios he is put to experience over and over again as he grows consciously older.

He knows just how tarnished he is, how dirty his hands are with blood, and how the closest he’ll ever get to heaven is by your side, and in all honesty, he wasn’t a man who craved a peaceful afterlife, nor did he crave for the existence of the promised afterlife his religious mother talked to him about every night to be true. 

Your existence is the only thing that soothes his aching heart, the only person who makes him feel better and unconsciously worse for being the man he is. Because you hold him so gently, speak so softly, and mutter praises for putting his life on the line, for losing morals so the entirety of the world didn’t lose theirs.

He feels as if it’s rotten work to love him, a tortuous action you keep because of the high morals he was never able to develop or comprehend. He sees you as a Martyr for staying with him when he continuously leaves you, disappearing to fight the evils of the world he knows won’t be eradicated anytime soon. 

Aren’t you the kindest of angels for guarding him everywhere he goes, a photo of you hidden in a small pocket on his hat, the smell of your sweet perfume on his suitcase “so you don’t forget my smell” you explained while saying goodbye to him at the door of your home. Oh, sweet angel, he will never forget you.

He usually doesn’t make promises he can't keep, not wanting to feed false hope to the people he cares for, but when you stare at him with teary doe eyes and a pretty smile on your lips because you refuse to cry in front of him, refuse to that be the last expression he sees on your face if the inevitable thing that is death happens to him in the battlefield and not in your arms, of old age with a peaceful mind, he feels compelled to promise his return, to ease your mind and take away the crushing pressure on his chest.

he would die for his teammates, but he would live for you.

“Try and return to me” you whisper in his ear, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away, you have no idea what he would do to ensure he finds his way into your arms one more time before perishing. “Of course, love” he replies, voice gruff yet holding an endearment he only has for you. 

And he remembers your last conversation with pain because Captain Price isn’t a good man, but Jonathan Price is, your Johny is a good man, one who holds you close to his chest at night despite his aching bones from War and violence, who opens the door for you and buys you flower every Sunday after church.

But tonight the night sky has a dooming dark he has never seen before, and the stars above him as he bleeds out on the soil are too blurry to stargaze the way he does with you back home, there is no grass on the floor to soothe the ache of his sore bones the way the backyard of your home does.

He knows he has never been a religious person, never been one to have a relationship with God, but you do, he knows you pray for him to return safe every day he is away from you, so tonight, knowing he isn’t returning to you, he prays for you. he prays for God to be kind to your soul and guide a new lover your way, one who won’t die thousands of miles away from you, one with a body to bury when death catches up to them. 

He prays for nothing more than for God to allow you to live peacefully the rest of your time while his time reaches an end in a secluded place on earth, looking at your picture for one last time before pressing it close to his heart with the hand that has his wedding band, feeling his skin slowly match the temperature of the cold material, his last heartbeats only known by the picture of you and him, a last secret to share with you.

Husband!Price prays for the afterlife to be real, so he can have a chance of seeing you again someday. 

[ramsayxme]

Authors Note: I want to start a chapter series surrounding Ramsay and include photo collages to match the chapter. Please enjoy! TW- smut, rape, manipulation, classic Ramsay things.

Chapter 1: The Escape

You escaped. The trees seemed to blur as you sprinted, your lungs stinging as they filled with icy air. You knew you weren't dressed for the wilderness but you didn't have many options. The snow covered everything, causing a deafening silence to linger across the North. Your heavy breathing and heartbeat filled your ears as you kept forward, desperate to reach the heavy forest ahead.

You had been captured nearly a fortnight ago, held in a dungeon by the horrible men of House Bolton. You were left alone the entire time with barely any food or water. Nobody had spoken to you, touched you, or interacted with you. The only reason you knew it was the Bolton men was from the flag hanging outside your puny window; the flayed man.

Your feet kept moving forward as you reached the forest line, muting the world even further as you disappeared into the wintery woods. Your sprint slowed to a walk as you took in your surroundings. The trees bent under the weight of the ice and snow. The snow fell softly and silently, gently layering itself on every surface. You were catching your breath when you heard shouting from behind you. In the far distance, you knew the Bolton men were coming to find you. You knew it was only a matter of time.

You started into a run once again, zig-zagging through the trees and snow-covered shrubbery, begging the Gods to bring enough snowfall to cover your tracks before the men found you. The men were on horses, and horses were much faster than malnourished women. They easily caught up to you, entering the thick forest much sooner than you hoped they would. As you kept running, an arrow flew past your head.

You shrieked as you realized that you were being hunted, not just chased. You looked over your shoulder to see five horses with angry men riding them, all with arrows nocked and drawn in your direction. While peering over your shoulder, you tripped over a branch that had fallen. Your face was met with a drift of snow and you knew your life was about to end.

You kept still, refusing to turn over and face the men. You heard them dismount their horses, feet crunching on the frozen earth. "We've got you now, you little whore." Grunted one of the men. You slowly turned over, rolling around in the snow drift. One of the ugliest men stood above you and was bending over to grab you by your shoulders, when suddenly an arrow pierced through his neck, spilling his blood on your chest. You screamed, kicking your feet to inch away from him as he fell to his knees in front of you. Within moments, all five of the men had fallen to their knees, arrows through their heads.

You remained small, pressing yourself into the snow. Out of the corner of your eye, a man and his horse appeared from further in the woods. He was coming from behind you, and he dismounted his horse and reached a hand out to you. He was pale, layered with pelts and furs, and his curly dark hair licked underneath his earlobes. His hair was sprinkled with snowflakes as he leaned over and beckoned you to take his hand. "Come with me, it is much too cold out here for a lady."

You were terrified, refusing to take the stranger's hand. His eye contact did not waiver as he kept his hand outstretched to you. You stared into his eyes, light blue and mysterious. His eyebrows raised softly as he gently smiled. "I'll take you to my small village. We don't have much, but we can get you warm and fill your belly with soup." You almost whimpered at the thought. Warmth. Food. Shelter. A peaceful night's rest.

You examined the stranger for another moment before reaching your hand out, allowing him to help you up. He was awfully handsome. He gingerly helped you onto his horse, getting you situated at the front of the saddle. He had pelts draped across the horse, enough to cushion you as you sat. Your body still refused to relax as the stranger mounted the horse, sitting snugly behind you. "It's a bit of a journey, but I can keep us warm at night. I promise you, it will be worth it." His voice was low and smooth like molasses. You nodded dumbly, unable to speak.

The stranger kicked his feet at the horse and the horse obeyed. You began trotting deeper into the forest, the stranger's breath on your neck. His arm wrapped around your waist while he held the reins in the other hand. He pulled you closer to him, pressing against his chest. You shivered as the horse picked up speed, forcing freezing air to constantly whistle in your face. The man pulled a pelt from behind him and wrapped it over you. "Keep warm as best you can. We will stop for the night when the sun sets."

You stopped thinking as your body began to warm under the pelt. You realized your clothing was soaked from snow and blood, cold cloth clinging to your frame. You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but before you knew it, the stranger dismounted. He shuffled around for a while. You were in your own bubble, wrapped in a warm pelt with your eyes closed. He pulled you off the horse and laid you down on a second pelt. You felt heat radiating and you opened your eyes to see the man adding sticks to a small fire that was near your face.

You slowly sat up, your bones felt as if they were creaking louder than rusty hinges. The man smiled at you. He had shed a few layers of fur. He still had snowflakes scattered in his hair and a gentle look on his face. "Are you warming up, my lady?" He asked you. You nodded, looking around. You were in a small clearing within the forest. He had laid multiple pelts down to create a makeshift bed large enough for the two of you. His fur outercoat was draped over a branch near the horse which was tied up firmly. You looked back at him. "Why are you helping me?"

He grinned and chuckled. "She talks!" He moved closer to you, sitting down on the pelts. "I don't like to see anyone in pain, my lady. You were nearly killed and for what reason? I can't think of a reason why anyone would want to kill such a pretty girl." You felt your face flush when he complimented you, his hand resting on your upper back. "I don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable but..." He pulled the pelt off of you, revealing your clothes still soaked and clinging to your skin. "You need to get dry or else you might face death again."

You knew he was right. "You need to take these wet clothes off. We can lay them by the fire tonight, they will be much drier tomorrow." He tugged at the neckline of your thin dress. You nodded and shivered as you began to peel it off your body. Your skin had begun to prune softly under the dress, taking it off was definitely going to help your body retain heat. Once it was removed, you set it near the fire on a rock he had placed for the dress. You looked back at the man, his light eyes gently falling across your bare skin.

Gods, he was so handsome. His eyes glazed across your chest and down your back. You watched him look at you. His curls still nest under his earlobes, and his chin had slight stubble from his journeys. You were secretly feeling blessed by the Gods that HE saved you and would be your traveling partner. He was gorgeous. His gaze met yours and he turned away. "Sorry, I shouldn't look at you like that." He brushed snow from his eyebrows as he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere.

"No... it's okay." You softly assured him. You reached your hand out and laid it on his cheek. His skin was warm even though you expected it to be ice cold. "I don't mind if you look at me..." Your voice trailed off. You felt your core warm as you imagined him taking his clothes off as well, your bodies curling together under the pelt blanket. He peered over at you again. "You are very lovely, my lady."

You smiled and crawled under the pelts once again. "Come, join me... perhaps our bodies can keep us warm?" His eyes widened. "Are you suggesting..." You laughed softly, interrupting him. "Well, you saved me. The least I can do is make sure you stay warm as well." You felt a strange urge rise in you. You didn't even know this man but you were inviting him to sleep naked next to you!

He nodded, pulling his shirt over his head and placing it near his archery bow. The bow was propped up against a tree right next to you. His chest was just as pale as his face. His chest was chiseled and his arms were toned from archery. His blue veins snaked along his arms and hands. You watched him kick off his trousers as well before he climbed into the pelt sanctuary with you. His strong arms wrapped around your torso as he pulled you in close to him, your back against his chest. You felt the heat. You felt comfort.

You sighed as you relaxed into the position, his arms still holding you tightly. His nose nuzzled between your ear and shoulder as he curled up against you. "Thank you." You whispered. You felt him smile against your neck. His lips lingered on your neck as he breathed, the warm breath licking at your skin. You scooted your ass and legs closer to him. Before you could press against him, he scooted himself back. "Sorry, ah, My Lady..." his voice dripping with concern. You craned your neck, turning your head to look at him. He was looking down under the pelts. You realized was aroused and he was also slightly embarrassed for it. "It's been a long journey. I apologize, I haven't held a woman close in..." He mumbled. You didn't care what he had to say. You wanted him.

You turned over to face him and pressed your lips against his. He inhaled through his nose sharply before gently moaning into your kiss. Your mouths were warm and fit together perfectly. His hand reached up and held your face as you continued to kiss, tongues intertwined together. His breathing was heavy and you were already feeling yourself become aroused as well. You touched his chest gently before you wrapped your arms around his forearm. He held your face as you wrapped around his arm, almost begging him to use you. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open.

"Are you sure this is alright?" He asked. He was so sweet. You nodded, smiling at him. "Yes, I want to! I want us to stay warm, and I can't think of a better way." He grinned and dove into your neck, kissing and sucking. He nibbled on your neck as he rolled you over, facedown. He started getting aggressive as he became more aroused. He was pressing his hips forward, nudging his hard cock at your entrance. He easily slipped inside you, groaning as he felt your warmth around him. You gasped with the sudden stretch inside you. "Oh, you feel very good." The man groaned. His voice was raspy and almost seemed different than before. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled your head back forcefully, you screamed at the sudden violence.

When your head was yanked backward, you saw his teeth grind together as he smiled. His eyes were wide and wild. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?" He asked quietly. You stared at him, confused. Your blood ran cold as his hand snaked to your chin, forcing you to look at the horse that you rode in on. Now that all of the pelts were removed from the horse's back, you could see it. The flayed man banner hung off the hips of the horse, draped over its legs. "Tell me what you see." He demanded, his hands holding your chin firmly, his cock still slamming into you. "No!" You yelled as you attempted to get away from this evil man.

You were not nearly as strong as him, he held you down easily, continuing to fuck you into the ground. "Tell me what you see!" He barked, biting hard on your earlobe. You cried out as you felt warm blood pour out from his bite. "The flayed man!" You cried. He laughed and pulled out of you, flipping you over to face him. His face was no longer soft and sweet. His teeth flashed as he smiled, pushing you on your back. He pushed his cock back into you and began fucking you again. You squeezed your eyes shut.

His hand suddenly gripped your neck, forcing you to open your eyes. He lowered his face to yours and he demanded, "Keep your eyes open. Don't you know how to behave when you're fucking your Lord?" You swear you felt your heart stop. You stared at him, terror filling your eyes in the form of tears. He was clearly enjoying watching you piece together the puzzle as he bucked his hips even harder. You could tell he was about to finish inside you when he tightened his grip on your neck. "Who am I?"

You swallowed as he released your neck enough to allow you to speak. "Lord Bolton." He groaned, still close to finishing. "Yes. Lord of the Dreadfort. You belong to me. You can't run away. Say my name again." Animalistic instincts took over as he thrust unevenly. As you spoke his name, he spilled into you, filling you with his warm cum.

"Ramsay Bolton." You whispered, feeling utterly defeated. "Ramsay Bolton."

Chapter Two

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Kiss Me More (Zutara)

Sumamry: Katara and Zuko share a kiss.

WC: 590ish

Warnings: a smidge of angst if you squint hard enough, fluff, a kiss.

Read on ao3!

--

The storm had come out of nowhere. One minute, the sky had been clear, and the next, rain poured down in thick sheets, drenching everything in sight. Katara had hurried to find shelter under a rocky outcrop by the cliffside, and Zuko, as usual, wasn’t far behind.

They stood side by side, watching the rain as it hammered the earth, soaking the forest below. The air between them was thick with something unspoken, a tension that had been building for days now—ever since the war had ended and the weight of peace had settled on their shoulders.

Katara’s arms were crossed, her soaked hair clinging to her face as she stole a glance at Zuko. He was silent, brooding as usual, though his golden eyes held a softness she hadn’t seen before. His fire, though strong and fierce, had been tempered since the day they defeated his father, but there was something else there now, something more vulnerable.

She felt it too. The closeness. The way her heart beat a little faster whenever he was near.

“I didn’t expect this,” she said quietly, half to herself.

Zuko turned his head to look at her. “The rain?”

“No.” She shook her head. “This. Us.”

Zuko shifted, unsure of what to say. He had always been better at action than words. But Katara didn’t need words to understand him—not anymore. She had seen every side of him by now: his anger, his guilt, his hope. And somehow, despite everything, she had come to trust him.

More than trust him.

“I never thought…” she trailed off, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words. “I never thought I’d feel like this about you.”

His breath caught, and he turned fully to face her now. “Katara…”

“I want you to kiss me, now,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was steady, but her heart raced in her chest.

For a moment, Zuko froze. His mind reeled—was she serious? Could this really be happening?

But then he saw the way her eyes shone with determination, the same determination she always had when she fought for what she believed in. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t second-guessing. And neither should he.

Without another word, he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His hand cupped her cheek, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed against her skin. She leaned into his touch, her breath shallow, her gaze locked with his.

And then he kissed her.

The rain seemed to fade away, the world around them disappearing until it was just the two of them, lost in that moment. His lips were warm, soft yet firm, as if he was pouring every unspoken feeling into that kiss. And she kissed him back with equal intensity, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing hard, their hearts racing in sync.

“That was… intense,” Zuko murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Katara smiled, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Yeah. It was.”

The rain continued to fall, but now, it felt like the storm inside them had calmed.

“I guess we were both caught off guard,” Zuko said, his lips quirking up in a rare smile.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” Katara replied, her eyes shining with something that felt a lot like hope.

And for the first time in a long while, Zuko allowed himself to believe in that hope too.

[ruminiscence]

Character Analysis of Johan Liebert - Monster, Naoki Urasawa (2004)

In my opinion, Johan represents Jung's concept of the shadow, which is why both Tenma and Nina couldn't kill him in the end. Despite tirelessly, and relentlessly going after him. If they did end up doing so, they would be destroying themselves in the process. The constant fear on Tenma's face once he heard the buzz words 'monster' and 'inside of me' highlights his underlying fear. It is, of course, aggravating, considering how close they both were to killing Johan (multiple times, might I add). But, to them, it would have come at too high a cost.

Consequently, Johan was not the monster he and everyone thought him to be. The forgiveness Nina offered to Johan (as well as) Tenma’s acceptance (in a way) gave Johan that validation. In my opinion, Johan had an identity problem, not a complete lack thereof, as most people say. Johan completely understood how senseless the world is; the picture book from his childhood made sense of that senselessness. That narrative (mostly born from the book) gave significance to his existence, whether he knew it or not. I found it interesting that he went through several names throughout his life, but ‘Johan Liebert’ was recurring. Whether this is just for convenience's sake, I don’t know.

The scene where we see his reaction when re-reading the book (likely the first time since he was a child) furthers this notion. Johan's facial expressions are to be paid attention to, every single one, even if they barely change. We see the most significant change in his face in the final scene: that of sheer disappointment, hopelessness, and defeat. His master plan did not go accordingly; the plan was for him to be completely wiped off the face of the earth, rendered fictitious. The drunk man who unexpectedly shot him stripped him of that. So did Tenma, in not allowing Johan to kill/destroy his (Tenma’s) altruistic nature.

Johan's perfect suicide ultimately fails because he is not the nameless monster he believed himself to be; this is shown merely in the fact that he does not kill (nor even think about killing) Nina & Tenma; he realised that they are the only two people to understand him in this world. This also explains Johan's bizarre attachment to Tenma from the get-go (which also makes a lot of sense). In the scene where we listen to the tape, we're made aware of Johan's desperation; he does not want to forget 'Anna'; he believes they are the only two people in the world. Later on, Tenma was added to that list. Hence, every other person's life is rendered meaningless to Johan; this is the reason for his remorseless killings, of course. He killed everyone that could eventually be tied into his and Anna/Nina's existence, and arguably Tenma, too.

I also think Johan eventually lets go of this (seemingly) obsession with names in the final scene. Whether the last scene of him and Tenma speaking was a dream or not remains significant. Before Tenma reveals his potential real name to Johan, the subject is changed. This is when we learn about the biological mother's sacrifice. Despite her not choosing to sacrifice Johan, he still doubts the decision. All of this is to say that perhaps the failure of his perfect suicidal plan was, in fact, the real success after all. He successfully kills everyone who does not know him but knows of the nameless monster's existence. This explains why the only two people on this earth who did are still alive and were eventually saved emotionally.

In a way, they also saved Johan too. Hence the *seemingly* peaceful disappearance from the hospital. He just wanted to be understood. This is also why I believe he asked Nina to shoot him as a child and then again all those years later. His mother placed this seed of doubt, which he seemed confident in, but because of Nina's existence, he could extend this and not be entirely solid in this sense of doubt. He latched this on to Nina's being, hence merging their identities. As a child, he did seek her forgiveness despite his contradictory actions (asking to be shot). When she finally offered forgiveness in a similar situation later on, the doubt was gone. That little spec of forgiveness and acceptance was all he needed. Acceptance is not to say that he wanted her or even Tenma to accept his actions; hence, Johan says, 'We can't turn back now' when Nina does forgive him. Other people and their deaths (at his hands) simply did not matter to him; he was utterly indifferent to it. So evidently, that one thing mattered to him, which he mostly did not believe to be real; it turned real, giving him what he had so desperately been looking for since childhood. He is saved. The only three people that mattered in the show (concerning Johan's essence) are saved. 

[sumaneun-stars]

'Escape : My Cold Heart'

Pairing. Nishimura riki x fem!reader

Genre. Childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst

Warnings. None!

Synopsis. You thought you could be with Riki forever, until one day changed everything. Years later, his absence didn't stop you from witnessing your dream, although he promised he'd be there with you.

A/n: I thought of this after I found out there was a comet called Nishimura which was recently discovered omg TT. Anyways I hope you like it!<3

“Run!” you heard from a distance. “Faster!”

You ran along the fields of grass and the wall of mountains, under the blanket of stars above. You ran along the never ending path towards your one desire. So far but so close, the collection of dust and ice, running beside earth to find a place to land- a place to call… ‘home’.

“Times up!” your coach announced for the 4th time, the only time you heard.

Snap.

Your feet stopped. You looked down at the paved ground with painted, yellow lines. You lifted your heavy head up, to see the disappointing view of beige colored concrete walls around you, followed by students dressed in their P.E wear, including you.

You made your way to your previous position, having no improvement from the last time. You sighed, looking down at your worn out sport shoes, which were gold to you.

'Escape is what I need' you thought to yourself.

You heard the last bell ring, and went straight to your best friend, Heather. You took her by the hand, walking out of school with her. You stopped on the nearest pavement bench and sat her down.

"Heather, I need a favor," you said.

You would never be the one to ask for help. You would always fend for yourself, and laugh at the word, 'dependent'. There was not an ounce of mischief in your face- making Heather know that you said this with all seriousness.

"Tell me"

She trusted you, at all costs.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

You walked down the busy streets of Tokyo, ears filled by the sounds of the honking of vehicles, the sweeping of leaves and the never ending talks of society. You wished you were in a movie. Where the main character would walk along the peaceful roads, admiring the beautiful red leaves falling from trees, which paved the way for him/ her. You sighed.

'Escape is what I need' you thought to yourself.

You took out the spare key in your pocket, opening the door.

"I'm home" you announced.

Your mother greeted you with a hug, and that's when you performed step 1.

"Mom" you looked up at her.

"Hm?"

"Heather invited me for a sleepover, can I go?"

With 15 minutes worth of interrogation, she finally allowed you. 

You entered your small room, opening your cupboard and taking out a till. It had been five years since it was filled with a single penny, and now it was up to the brim. You took the hammer which you stole from your brother (it was lying around), and broke it open.

You gasped. You had never seen this much money in your life, ever. You spread it out, looking for the one.

There it was. The penny where it all started. There was a note taped on it, saying, 'I hope we get there, make it happen for us'. You softly smiled, reading the note which he wrote to you, five years ago, before he left.

You collected the money, emptying it into a polythene bag and putting it deep down into your backpack. You packed up all the necessary items for traveling, including the hopefully not expired snacks you kept hidden in your drawers.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

-

You got out of the taxi, your backpack hanging on one shoulder. You looked up at the beautiful, huge house in front of you. It was almost three times bigger than yours.

"Have a great time, honey. Be careful when coming back home, I have work so can't pick you up" your mother said, closing the door of the car.

You watched as the vehicle slowly disappeared. You rang the bell, and soon saw the door open, with the familiar face smiling at you.

"Hey y/n!" She greeted you.

"Hey"

She smiled.

"Well-"

"Here you go" she handed over a larger than usual lunchbox, wrapped up in a checked cloth with spoons and chopsticks attached. You were about to hug her, but got interrupted by the weird material which you felt under the lunchbox. You turned it over, to see an envelope. You opened it, finding money inside.

You smiled lovingly, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stepped forward to hug her.

"Thank you, Heather. Thank you so much" you said, your voice muffled with all the sobbing. She hummed, patting your back.

She parted the hug, caressing your shoulders.

"Be safe, okay?" She said, giving you a sad smile. "Call me if anything's wrong"

"Hm" You replied, watching her step behind, closing her front door, mouthing a silent 'bye' with a wave.

You had calculated all the expenses carefully, leaving enough money to buy a seat in the 'third class - reserved' section.

You sat yourself down on an empty bench, sighing. You looked at your watch. '5 minutes more' you said to yourself.

You felt something brushing on your leg. You bent down, spotting a ginger colored cat with sparkling eyes, just like his. You carried it and placed it next to you. The cat meowed at you, rubbing its nose on your fingers which reached out at it. You smiled.

"I'll name you… Riki" you said softly, patting its head.

Soon enough, the train arrived. You took a deep breath as you got onto the carriage, and took your seat. You reached out to your pockets, taking out the penny. You caressed it with your thumb, smiling at the words written on it.

"Hello," the girl who was sitting next to you, said.

You smiled. "Hi"

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Y/n, yours?"

"Suki," she smiled brightly. "Where are you headed?"

(5 years ago)

"Hey y/n! C'mere!" He called you.

"What's up?" You asked him, sitting cross- legged beside him on the ground.

He took out an empty till, and placed it in front of you both.

"Let's collect. Let's start collecting so that, five years from now, on September 4th, we can come here and witness the comet, together" he said.

You smiled, and nodded in agreement.

He took out a penny from his pocket, along with a pen and a tiny notebook. He wrote something down, tore the page and pasted it on the penny. He refused to show you. So for five years, you didn't know what he had written.

"Show me!"

"Never!"

You started chasing him. You chased him along the same fields of grass and wall of mountains, the sounds of both of your laughter filling your ears.

He ran back to the till and inserted the coin.

"No!" You screamed, tripping on his foot and falling sideways on his stomach.

He groaned in pain.

You both started laughing uncontrollably in each other's hold, feeling warm- and safe.

You took a breath after laughing, moving yourself to rest on his stretched out arm. He turned, smiling at you. You looked into his eyes- but they looked somewhat… sad.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

He hummed. "I'll tell you later, when we get back home" he replied.

And so he did tell you once you got back home- that he was leaving. He refused to tell you why, but he promised that he'd make a better version of himself, for you. He didn't say when, but he'd come back.

(The present)

You felt a pat on your shoulder, making your head shoot up.

"Excuse me? Your stop is in about 15 minutes" Suki informed you.

"O- oh. Thank you" you smiled.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

3.30 a.m. 

30 minutes more.

You grabbed your backpack, an extra bottle of water, an extra jacket, your phone, and walked out of the tiny room which you rented for the night.

You walked along the empty road, with only a few street lights here and there which guided you. Your hands shivered, for the coldness of the deep night.

Your footsteps were the only sounds you could hear, along with your now pounding heart. You would be lying if you said you weren’t scared. The main characters in movies did it so easily, without an inch of fear in them.

You switched on the torch of your phone, because you were no longer on the streets. You were now far away from the place you stayed at, but you came this far for what? To turn back? Certainly not.

You spotted the small, rocky road to the fields of your childhood, and started following it.

Your feet stopped. Not because you reached the place, but because you could see the outline of a person- a rather tall person.

You took a step behind, but realized that there was no use- the person would've already known you were there, because you were the only source of artificial light. But why didn't he turn to look at you? Why was he looking up? Was he here to see the comet too?

You raised the torch to his face, feeling a hint of bravery. He turned to your direction, covering his face with his hand because of the light.

'Wait… could it be…?'

"R- Riki? You asked. "I- is that you?"

You moved the light from his face, and he moved his hand away. He smiled softly. You dropped your phone on the soft ground, your hands and legs now trembling.

Your legs moved faster than your brain.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked yourself as you ran towards him, on the very same field of grass.

Soon you were in his grasp, his warmth taking over your body as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. You buried your head in his chest, sobbing softly. He caressed your hair, whispering tiny shh's into your ear, in hopes of comforting you.

You didn't want to let go of him, afraid that he'd leave you, forever.

"Y/n…" he said.

You were shocked at his voice. He wasn't the kid he was before, he had grown, and you felt a sense of pride in that. You looked up at his moonlit face, sinking into his black hole eyes.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry for taking so long. But I've found a new me. A me that's ready to take care of you, and cherish you with all my heart. A me that will give you all the love you deserve and more. A me that would spend every cent on you- who would die for you, and kill for you" he spilled out.

"Y/n, please love me" he pleaded. He looked into your eyes so desperately, that even a stranger would say yes.

You smiled, nodding your head. Tears refused to stop rolling down your cheeks and you held him in your arms.

He brought his hands from your back to your jaws, holding them delicately. He pressed his soft lips on your forehead, your skin tingling at his touch.

You looked at him, admiring his every detail, until-

"Riki, look," you said, calmly.

You both looked up at the comet running past earth. It lightened up the whole sky with its vibrant colors. It was ethereal, beautiful, gorgeous- and every other synonym to describe heaven.

He lay himself down on the cold, wet grass, pulling you down with him. You rested your head on his stretched out arm, looking up at the sight above.

"It's beautiful," you whispered.

He hummed. "Like you,"

And just like that, he thawed your once cold heart again.

End.

[vizishereig]

ooh what about 19 for the ask game? 👀 (not sure if you’re after characters/a ship too but anything with Leon would be 👌👌)

Hi, hello! Sorry I took so long to write this, it kind of got away from me ;-; but I hope you like it! This is another one of my many AU’s that rotate in my brain, a mix of The Magnus Archives and Resident Evil :3 I think Leon would be very Lonely coded :D I mean… if any of the eldritch fears would choose him, it would definitely be the Lonely. Enjoy :D

19. Vulnerable

Vulnerability is weakness.

That’s one of the first lessons his dad beats into him.

The second lesson he learns is how to read his dad’s mood and avoid getting into situations that cause his dad to beat him.

That one takes a while, but he gets it down.

---

A lesson he learns on his own is how to be okay with being alone.

The kids at school aren’t particularly nice to him. He’s not sure why, but he learns to live around it. Books and the shaded area under a tree during recess become his friends instead of people.

It’s during this isolation when it happens the first time.

The world starts to get quiet. It’s so gradual that it takes Leon a few minutes to notice it. He looks up, blinking at the sight of fog draping the playground. It’s quiet now, silent. Eerie.

“Hello?” Leon calls out, voice shaking slightly. It’s cold.

As soon as he speaks, though, the fog clears up. Sound is back, loud in face of the previous silence.

Kids are talking and yelling over by the park. Nobody else seems bothered by the sudden appearance and disappearance of the fog. Or the absence of sound. He brushes it off for the moment, going back to his book.

When he asks one of his peers later, they stare at him blankly, saying there was no fog. It’d been midday and sunny, there couldn’t have been any.

He tries to put it out of his mind after that.

---

Except it keeps happening.

Nobody ever notices it, but it’ll creep in and leave Leon alone.

The quiet and the cold, a bone-deep chill, always makes itself known gradually, creeping into the few peaceful moments he gets a day.

He hates it. But he gets used to it.

The place is unnerving at best, terrifying at worst. There is no sound, just the fog drifting through. Sometimes, breathing it in feels like inhaling smoke. Cloying, sticking, and making Leon want to cough it out somehow.

It’s lonely.

(But, each time it happens, Leon feels an odd sense of belonging. Leon’s always been lonely. This place just allows him to truly be alone. Nothing, not one person to bring him back to Earth. Just himself.)

Those thoughts scare Leon more than anything, and he speaks.

---

His dad gets sick.

He’s alone more often than he isn’t.

He drops out of school, works, and takes care of his dad. He’s no longer getting beat, so he spends more time in his room, only coming out every so often to make sure his dad hasn’t hurt himself somehow.

The fog appears more and more.

Leon gets more and more comfortable when it does.

---

He applies for an archiving job. It’s dumb of him, his resume is forged, and he’s positive that man interviewing him knows. His eyes are blue, but they seem wrong, somehow. He can’t for the life of him put his finger on it, though.

He’s surprised, to say the least, when the man, Wesker, that’s his name, offers him the job right there. There’s an amused smile on his face, but Leon is too busy feeling relieved that he wasn’t caught in his lie to notice.

He signs whatever paperwork Wesker gives him but pauses at the very last one. It feels… it feels like a trap. But he needs the job, so he signs it.

Something heavy settles in his soul, but he shrugs the feeling off. He’s thinking about it too much.

---

His coworkers are nice. Especially Chris. Leon is… good with people, he thinks.

(At least, he’s good at reading people. Interacting takes some more time before he can figure out how to hold himself and what jokes he can make. These lessons he’s learned from dealing with his father and other adults. It took a while for him to apply it to people his age.)

Chris, though, makes him feel off-balance. Like he’s been put on stage and asked to perform with no other context. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong around him.

Even with all of that, though, he finds himself feeling a little less lonely.

---

The fog rarely appears nowadays. He’s been dating Chris for a few months and has been introduced to his sister and her friends. The careful guard he had built up over the years had slowly dissolved with the warmth that they showed him. It’s… nice.

It’s nicer when whatever fuckery that was going on in the Archives stops.

Leon has seen a horror too many in that job. Flesh-eating maggots, clones of his friends taking over their life, killer clowns, etc. All of it is gone now.

And that stupid contract? Well, burnt to a crisp, according to Luis.

Good fucking riddance.

---

One of the first lessons he learned with Chris Redfield is that he’s allowed to be vulnerable. He’s allowed to be sad when his dad dies, he’s allowed to be angry at things that happen to him, and he’s allowed to cry when everything gets to be too much.

He’s allowed all that, and even allowed to have Chris hold him when he finally breaks down.

It’s not a lesson he sticks to all the time, but he’s getting better at it.

Plus, with Chris here, he doubts it’ll be one he’s allowed to forget.

He’s kind of happy about that, if he’s being honest.

[love-a-story]

This is not the first fanfic that I imagine and that I start to write but it is the first that I publish!! I really wanted to share this one with you!!

Short summary (a bit important, it's a kind of intro):

Lan Qiren is overprotected by his family and the Lan clan. It is impossible for him to leave the clan and with his overly serious attitude, he has no friends (to the dismay of his brother and father). But deep down, Lan Qiren hides a big secret: a plan to escape. But a meeting will change his destiny. What will be his choice, disappear completely from the eyes of the world, or take risks for the person he loves?

CHAPTER 1 (part 1): "New Faces"

It was barely Mao's¹ time and the Cloud Ressess was, as usual, completely silent. Only the moon gently illuminated the few small animals. You could still hear the raindrops falling from the vegetation after the storm the day before, turning the earth into mud. But the quiet of the night was very briefly interrupted by a presence moving to the door of what appeared to be a bedroom.

The bottom of his white dress was stained with mud and his hair had many leaves on it, not to mention the humidity that was starting to stick his clothes to his body. A fairly muscular body but still a little small for his age. Because yes, this person was indeed Lan Qiren, then aged 15. He hurriedly changed his clothes and fixed his hair, removing the leaves, before sticking a fake moustache and beard on his face with the help of the mirror in his bedroom. Once ready, Lan Qiren approached his desk to retrieve some books and importants things before moving to the door of his room.

He always had this hesitation before giving lessons to the clan disciples. How did he end up teaching children with the same age as him, or even older?

In fact, it all started when he heard that one of the masters was sick. Freedom-loving Lan Qiren had thought that this would allow him to get out of the clan to teach in the field. Who would have thought this will never be letting happen! Not only had no one accepted this, but the worst part was that upon noticing his talent for making geniuses out of his students, the elders had refused to let him stop to be a teacher.

Lan Qiren let out a sigh. He had still been cunning this time since he had had the intelligence to disguise himself, keeping a minimum of discretion and peace. Because yes, now, he was no longer Lan Qiren, second son of the "great" Lan family, but Yao Zhufēng², a most respectful master. Certainly never in a good mood, but nevertheless recognized now throughout the world of cultivation as being a teacher capable of producing students of the same level of excellence as himself.

He was still glad that this label was not stuck to the name of Lan Qiren, the mysterious second son of the Lan family who, in his entire life, had only really been seen by his father and his brother. When he was younger, he realized that it was better if no one really knew what he looked like. By dint of effort, no one who knew his second identity really know what he look like now or what he looked like before.

And if he followed all of her rules of life, it was so that his plan to escape later would work without a hitch.

1: Mao, dawn, from 5am to 7am. In my case, it's more 5am than 7am.

2: I'm not sure about the translation so don't blame me. I wanted his name to have a very specific meaning. Yao Zhufēng : "jade" ; "pursue/chase" ; "wind" Don't try to understand right away, everything will be explained in a future chapter!!

How I loved writing this first part of chapter 1!! I don't know when I'll publish the rest though. It will be according to my desires (so maybe not the next week). It's just that it's taking longer than I thought to write a story before translating it (just with that I'm dying). But I don't plan on giving up!! Well, I hope so.

Bye!!

[missacidburn928]

Was Feeling Some Type Of Way

So I sat down and this flowed out...(attach whichever fictional man you desire)

“Why are we like this? Why do I feel like I have to walk around on eggshells when you’re actually home? When did the raging fire inside me settle into smoldering ash? Was it when I could tell your mood by the sound of your steps coming down the hall? Or did you slowly beat it out of me with every hand you raised in anger? I never thought I would be in this situation. Swore I would never be that girl. But I was blinded by your façade of the perfect gentleman. The mask you hide behind in your day-to-day life. Like a true sociopath you mirror emotions with practiced perfection. A practically flawless performance. Hell, you had me fooled and under your spell. So much so, that I thought I deserved every unkind act you did to me. Every bruise, every fatigued muscle. And I begged for any crumb of affection you would bestow on me. Your good girl. Your perfect little whore.”

The look on his face is one I have yet to see before. It’s a mix of his usual mild annoyance when I speak my mind and the eyes of a man primed for the kill. To render my flesh from the bone.

But I’m no longer scared. He fucked up when he left me bloodied on the floor while he disappeared on business for weeks. The longest he has ever been away. While my body healed, so did my resolve to leave. But I wasn’t going to skirt away in the night. Oh, no. I was going to say my peace before I left this life behind. Knowing full well, I may not make it out of this house alive.

“I’m done riding this merry go round of delusion. I’m well past enjoyment and just full on nauseated. If I don’t attempt to remove myself now; I know that I will succumb to the ultimate escape. For like a butterfly captured in jar I only have so much air before your either free me or place me under glass for display.”

“You’re talking in riddles and nonsense. You love me. And you know how insanely in love with you I am. It’s how you’re able to drive me to do such crazy things. I have only ever hurt you because I get overwhelmed by my emotions, and I lash out. But I always make it up to you. I always come back. I would never turn my back on you. And you’re telling me that you’re what…leaving me? Like somehow, I’m just going to let you out that door without a fight.”

His eyes darken. “You. Are. Mine.” He takes a step in my direction. “I will chase you down to the ends of the earth if I need to and drag you all the way back kicking in screaming because the only place you should be allowed, is by my side.”

Unbeknownst to him, when he took the rather large step to try and intimidate me into submitting to his whims like in the past, he left a wide enough space behind him that lead straight to the partially opened front door. It was my one and only chance to break free.

Before I could think better of it, I cut to my left to make it around his large frame. Barely making it past the birth of him and the wall. With no time to waste I made a mad dash for the door. Wanting to be as far away from his reach as possible. As I crossed the threshold, I felt a finger slip into the back loop of my jeans…

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Mayncient Day 23: Dearest

Get Along Without You

Had the first part in my wips for ages and had sudden inspiration for this day so here it is for you all! no warnings. word count 1.4k

They’re both lucky enough to have a full moon that casts enough light in the darkest parts of the city to allow them to walk in peace. Lucky enough that when they do finally come to a spot in the empty park there’s just enough shadow to allow for their masks to be removed.

Conner sits closer to the path, letting his height add protection to Elidibus’ identity despite it being well into the hours that any sane person would be in bed. Even with the white mask and black robes the Emissary still fears the potential backlash should he be found with Conner, a sentiment that he understands. Yet in this moonlit spot Conner can see the man relax as if they were behind closed doors, a smile playing on his lips as he watches Elidibus look up at the stars. “It’s quiet tonight,” he says, his white hair blowing gently in the small breeze, “something I wouldn’t expect of this place. Always noise. People, kids, and little animals during the day.”

“It's nice.” Conner inhales deeply, smiling and looking up at the sky also, “This has become my favorite time of day now.”

Elidibus frowns, “It used to be dawn.”

Conner shrugs, “It's still the early morning technically. Besides, a person’s favorite time of day can change or also just have multiple favorites.”

“Not with you Conner. You were-.”

“You’re not going to change my mind on being with you Elidibus,” he assures, “I know back then it felt like there were no consequences because it was just sex, but I still could have left when this became a lot more than that. I know what air we must put on when the white robes are on and we are at work keeping a little closer to the shadows, a small price to pay to have the times like this where you are better dressed for the shadows and yet do everything except stay in them.”

“If only we never had to in the first place. Do you not wish to be more open at work? Among friends?”

“I think in all cases there is a certain kind of secrecy when in a working environment out of professionalism so not much would change on that front really. As for friends, well,” Conner chuckles, shaking his head, “we already are, as they know not to ask too many questions. You remember how Hythlodaeus’ partner was when we happened to cross paths as the two were making their way home?”

The memory brings a small smile back to Elidibus’ face, “I do not believe I had ever seen Anthea more authoritative than in that moment.” He sighs, shoulders relaxing as he leans against Conner, fingers becoming entwined with his, “I just wish that I, as Themis, can be enough for you as Elidibus certainly cannot be.”

Conner tilts his head upward, caressing his jawline to let his hand become loosely entangled in the long white hair. He brings his lips down softly to his, the chill of the night air disappearing in an instant even as Conner pulls away just far enough to whisper, “It will never matter to me who you are. You are by my side right now and that is enough.”

It isn’t enough in this time of calamity when Elidibus recalls that moment as the skies darken and people flee below the earth. Things are going to plan as he can feel that starting fusion of worlds, of another piece of Zodiark stitched by his brethren, and of the decimation of a world he never cared to know. He stopped trying to get to know the people of those broken worlds after they were successful in rejoining the first piece to Him. What was the point when they weren’t supposed to exist to begin with? He’d stick to those that would become whole once again.

It was a third attempt to see if there was something more to it all, if The Shepherd on the moon was right to have abandoned them all those years ago like Emet-Selch had said. Three attempts and this would be the last. He can already see how this one ends, can already feel the slow crawl of grief that’s never sat nicely since the world he knew fell apart, can see this version doing what Elidibus can only assume happened the first time. 

These people don’t have magic yet that doesn’t stop this incarnation of Conner weaving through destruction getting as many as he can underground. He’s had several close calls with the smoke engulfing him and lightning starting to rain down and still it does not deter the man….and each time it causes a panic to rise in Elidibus briefly. Each time he wonders if this will be the moment he witnesses the death of his dearest and so he intervenes in ways imperceptible to those of this era. His brethren would scoff at the intervention, and he can’t blame them, this is only one man and what was a single man compared to the many they were working on bringing back? The preservation of this one man is not worth the whole of the star. 

Yet how would they know that this one man, his soul on its first journey in this new world, was the only reasoning he could find to let them continue with what they were doing. That maybe, just maybe, he could have the power to bring him back, get back that little piece of his heart that was given in exchange for the hopes of many. To see those blue eyes framed by ebony hair once again, to hear his laughter when they tried to dance and Elidibus couldn’t help but try to take the lead which had their legs tangled as they fell to the ground, to feel his own heart race when their eyes would meet in the Convocation building knowing what could come next. To experience the smell of the various herbs and plants he kept just for the joy of it once more, and to taste the cool moonlight on Conner’s lips as the sun rose to remind them of duty that always won. This one man was a reminder of what he sacrificed…. 

And what a mistake it was to have indulged in this fantasy.

Their time together was bliss. The way they met almost like the first time, but it wasn’t uncertainty about his new appointment that kept him silent, but the instant recognition of his eyes among features that were nothing like Conner. Elidibus didn’t need to check the color of his soul to know it was him, though he did anyway, it was enough to have those soulful eyes look at him once more. Enough to bring him back to this incarnation and strike up conversation after conversation in an openness Elidibus hadn’t known when the world was whole. To create a fleeting life within that freedom and to fall once more for someone that was a close approximation to the man he lost. Yet fleeting is all this ever was, even if he was to live to be old and grey a few decades is nothing in the centuries Elidibus has lived. He knows this and still it hurts. Still it hurts to see them all leave in ways that feel unnatural, after centuries of witnessing and being the cause of millions of deaths he still cannot stop the torturous pain from enveloping him. He wants to be free of this cycle….

So this will be the last time he lives among them. The last time he will go searching for those he once knew. The last time he will let himself be distracted by the doubts that plague his mind. The last time he will let himself recall or create memories to hold onto. After this Calamity he will once again put duty above all else. 

But first he will get this incarnation of Conner to the fleeting safety of the ground. Will stay with him for the last two months he has before returning to the sea to begin once again. Will hold him during his last breaths and mourn with the others before disappearing into the shadows, where he will stay dressed in white to perform his duty like he did so long ago. All the while holding onto the fact that he for just a moment had Conner right by his side….

….and it wasn’t enough….

[sonxofxgondor]

@thegreatstrongbow asked: ❛it would be a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity.❜

Sexual Tension Prompts.

Cheeks dried from their tears, no longer wet from the sorrows spread, the comfort of Aragorn had done much to bring peace onto Boromir. Settled the troubles of his mind, his inner most spirit; thoughts and woes so awful that they dared not to be spoken aloud. Torments of fire and ash, dead all around, corpses rotted from the inside with hearts still bleeding, full of life and vigor. Good men and women of Gondor, who had sacrificed more than they should, for the sake of everyone who called the lands that surrounded the Fellowship home. From the Misty Mountains to the Shire, Lothlorien a realm that disguised its hurts beneath delicate song and silvered light. Beautiful and breathtaking - strange to Boromir but in the most pleasant of ways, as though he stepped into a world undiscovered before. Voices within his head had ceased for the time. Calmed in their words, deep within the curves and confusions, hope nurtured. Galadriel, kind and fairest lady, dressed in gold and white; Boromir found his smile again.

Disappearance of one friend given chance for the arrival of another, it was the seat beside Boromir that Beleg took, tree-base warmed by the body of Aragorn. Absorbed by the space shared between them, with joy did the two men converse together. About everything and anything, tales of simpler years and the adventures of family, feats of either Man or Elf. Beleg was honest and blunt. Cheerful as he told all stories - from the lips of one first born - the slow recollection of old memories. What had been forgotten but was no longer. What was still yet to be unearthed. Returned to Middle-Earth by the hands of Mandos; there was mention of Turin, beloved brother and friend, an incident of death. Boromir stopped not in his own reminiscence; described Faramir and Denethor, the loss of Finduilas, the gentle people of Minas Tirith, of all Gondor. It was only when his rambles rested, laughter spent on his lips, grin so wide, that it became known that they were pressed so close.

Twisted entire on the tree root that they sat upon, thick and sturdy, knees touching and the cloths of their tunics brushing. So close that Boromir could see the perfection of Beleg's skin; riddled not by the cruelty of the summer sun, smooth in look, tanned. Accompanied by darkened eyes - irises of invitation - memories of childhood, walks during autumn when leaves blew in the breeze. Flickered between brunette and umber, breath nearest his skin awoke a spark in Boromir, coaxed an unexpected shiver, the scent of Beleg. Centuries old but ageless to the touch; something to be yearned for, wholly desired, an invisible string that pulled Boromir ever closer. As though cheated by some spell, the question of a kiss danced in the airs, what was not drawn into Boromir's breathless lungs. Brave suggestion; Beleg stole the words from Boromir, quiet and almost missed themself.

"Yes. I do suppose it would be, Beleg." Boromir agreed, excitement lifted at the end, blush on his face, tongue dragged across his lips, a hunger in his belly.

"I would want nothing more than that - to have your kiss on my lips. But... it's been so long since I've shared in one. All my days have been dedicated to battle and glory; I remember little of what to do."

Boromir promised, moved to Beleg so that no gap laid between, as if their bodies could become one despite the layers on their skins, hands splayed on the tree bark below, a crutch. "And yet, I'd give anything to learn again with you. Beleg, can you not see that I find you beautiful? Not before you have I ever seen a more handsome man; none so brave as you nor as wise. Your kindness to me and our friends, it has only furthered the sentiment. It would be an honor to have your kiss, a pleasure. But take not my words lightly, Beleg. I would not allow our actions of eagerness to shame you or I. A kiss between us, as brothers in the fight we endure, as a soldier committed to his people, it means everything. It cannot be done for foolish sakes. Gods forgive me if we were spotted by our companions, the Lord and Lady! Kiss me now in this vow, or do not give me your taste at all."

"Beleg, let it not be a shame... a wasted opportunity..." Boromir whispered after silence passed, a plea from starved lips, desperate hands. "If it be of your will, as much as mine, let us do as we may. Kiss me, Beleg. Kiss me now; for I can't wait another moment!"

[melpomenelamusa]

The Chosen One - Light & Darkness

~Original story~

Hurtcember DAY 14: Near death

CW: Child abuse (implied), attempted murder of minor, eye whump (non explicit), fantasy whump.

Today was the big day. Ichkat could feel it in his bones, in the core of his consciousness: Today would be the day he would save his people.

Ichkat was always a special child. The Leaders said he was born with the “Gift of Light,” which was why his hair was white as the morning light, his skin was pale as the color of clouds, and his eyes were two shining rubies.

“The Chosen One who will save us has been born, as the prophecy says!”

Ichkat never knew his parents. The Leaders said that a hero like him should be raised by the best warriors and wisest scholars of the community. He didn’t need parents or a family.

“You were born to save us.”

“Save you from what?”

“From Darkness.”

The Leaders told him the stories: Every time the sun set below the horizon, darkness fell over the village. This is when the rule of Tajtzin Kunyua, the Lord of Darkness, began. With his giant cloak he covered the brightness of the moon and stars. With his icy hands he made the bodies of the helpless shiver. He made the sighted go blind and clouded the judgment of the clever. He forced people to seek refuge inside their homes, in constant fear of not closing a door or window properly, and thus allowing darkness to enter their dwellings and suffocate them.

"But there is salvation! One day a child will be born blessed with the light of day. He will be the antithesis of darkness itself. He will face the Lord of Darkness and kill him, freeing us all from his reign of terror.”

That child was Ishkat.

Ichkat had always dreamed of this day, the day when he would finally fulfill his destiny. It took many years of exhaustive training under the sunlight that irritated his eyes and burned his skin, resting only until his muscles tore or his body succumbed to complete exhaustion, to prepare himself.

And now that he had turned fifteen, just as the prophecy said, he was ready to face his enemy.

He unsheathed his sword and held it firmly in his hands.

"Come out of your hiding place, Lord of Darkness!" the boy exclaimed. "I have come to challenge you to a duel."

The wasteland remained silent and empty. A pair of crows answered his call, cawing from the zigzagging branch of an old, dead tree. The sun was about to disappear on the horizon behind him, and in front of him a wall of darkness began to rise like smoke.

“Come out now, damn it!” Ichkat shouted. He tried to express the nervousness that began to eat away at his insides as fury.

A deep, spectral laugh echoed from somewhere in the celestial vault, where the shadows were densest.

“Did those cowards send a child to solve their problems?”

Suddenly a man materialized. His black skin gave off small sparkles, as if he were made of granite. A long, inky tunic delicately wrapped his body. A cascade of pitch-colored hair fell from his head, and on his severe face there were abysmal eyes.

Ichkat felt his legs begin to tremble, but he swallowed and adjusted his position.

"I am not a child, I am the Chosen One, and today I will destroy you so that my people can live in peace.”

The creature laughed again. His laughter was compared to the cawing of crows.

“You are very brave and very stupid, little one. No one can defeat me.”

The man spread his arms and his cloak seemed to form the wings of a bat. The sun's rays finished disappearing, absorbed by the earth, and in its place only a dark gray sky remained. Everything beyond the wasteland disappeared, and the moon above them created a circle of light, delimiting the battle scene.

"Go home," said the Lord of Darkness, in a mocking voice. "Go before a wild beast appears and devours you."

The boy did not move. His eyebrows contracted further towards the center of his forehead. Everyone in the village had faith in him. If he failed, he would not be able to look them in the face, knowing that he had allowed a monstrous being like this to continue to run loose and torment them.

“No,” he said, solid as a mountain.

The Lord of Darkness looked disappointed. He held out his hand. The earth turned black and bubbling, and a huge obsidian sword rose from it.

“If you want to die so badly, then I will not hold back.”

In the blink of an eye, the creature disappeared and reappeared just inches from Ichkat. He barely managed to jump back to avoid his enemy’s attack. He backed away, taking a deep breath and preparing for combat. This is what he had trained for. This is what he had been born for.

He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and ran. He leapt, aiming for his enemy's head, but the man blocked the blow with his blade, causing sparks to fly. The constant clink of the clashing swords created a dissonant music, mixed with the occasional cawing of the crows and Ichkat's heavy breathing. The Lord of Darkness was fast and strong, each blow so powerful that it made Ichkat's teeth shake. Soon his arms felt too heavy to hold his own weapon, and his legs felt too weak to bear their own weight.

In a clumsy movement he stumbled and could not dodge the attack. The obsidian blade made a cut over his left eye.

Ichkat screamed. A river of blood slid down half of his face. He was half blind, and the pain caused his general vision to blur with tears, barely making out the space in front of him.

He heard the laughter again.

"Go, boy. Your life is in my hands, and if you do not want to lose it, I advise you to accept my mercy and leave.”

Ichkat compressed the panic that overwhelmed him and buried it deep in his heart. Suddenly he felt the fabric of the Lord of Darkness' robe brush against his arm and a voice whispered in his ear.

"You are not a Chosen One.”

Those words fueled the fire of his courage, and with a cry, Ichkat drove his sword into the middle of his enemy's chest. It seemed that time stood still. The boy inhaled and exhaled, tasting only blood and soot. The creature stumbled, with the hilt protruding from his heart.

"I did it!" Ichkat thought, but his relief was short-lived. The Lord of Darkness stood up and ripped the weapon from his body with the ease of removing the seed from a fruit. His black eyes suddenly looked like two hungry wells. He threw himself at Ichkat, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. His long, cold fingers dug into the boy's throat, blocking the passage of precious oxygen. Ichkat kicked in the air, but his strength was quickly fading, robbing him of consciousness and breath. If he didn't do something, he was going to die. He was going to die...

In a last desperate attempt, he pulled the knife from his belt and threw it forward. If he had still had both eyes, it was very likely that he would have hit his target at that distance, but since that was not the case, he missed by several centimeters. The weapon bounced off the ground and lay motionless and useless.

"Let this serve as an example for the people of your village," the sinister man muttered. "So that they will never believe that they can kill me again."

And with those words, he threw Ichkat up the hill. The boy's body flew like a ropeless kite until he crashed against the wall of earth and rock. The material cracked and the hill collapsed with the simplicity of a mound of sand. Ichkat was buried under the enormous stones. Something colossal and heavy crushed his legs.

The boy could barely breathe. In his mouth there was only the bitter taste of his blood and the saltiness of the tears that fell down his cheeks. He could not move his body and total darkness swallowed him, leaving him blind and paralyzed.

Buried as he was, it was only a matter of time before he found out what would kill him first: his wounds, suffocation, hunger or fear. He just hoped it would be quick.

His mission had failed, and therefore, he deserved to die.

Ichkat wished to die.

Unfortunately for him, that wish would not be granted.

Next

A new story! This will be a very short one, ending with this year's Hurtcember. If you've read this far, thank you so much! 🌙

[mcalhenwrites]

Seasons - excerpts of current WIPs and abandoned side stories

Some of these I’ve shared before, others I have not. There are spoilers for Seasons ahead, so if you haven’t read it, it might be best not to proceed.

[“Cold”]

Vivian’s house is too large, too quiet. It once represented a perfectly oiled machine, the cogs of his magic always spinning to keep his family sheltered.

Now that it has broken down, Vivian sees the signs of wear and tear, of severe neglect.

[“Little Autumn’s Ninth Birthday”] [El’s POV] (Note: The conversation takes place between El and Howie.)

“Jacy’s been restless and keeps looking for you.”

He nods, smiling. “I wouldn’t miss her birthday! How many times does someone turn nine?”

I narrow my eyes, which only makes him laugh, though it seems short. Forced. The bitterness has faded with time, but it hasn’t completely left him.

“When she turns twelve, you can make the same joke.”

“Don’t start, Howard.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

We’re interrupted by a shriek and the running of feet across the floorboards, muffled only by the entryway carpet when Jacy reaches it.

[Untitled, but “Bee” as a placeholder]

The little spring child is sitting among flowers and watching the pollinators. Not just the many bees, but the variety of wasps and other insects that never get associated with their role in spreading plant seeds across the landscape.

Beau—or Bee, as most refer to him—is fond of wasps in a way others aren’t. He appreciates them where others only feel fear.

Some are bright red. (Bee likes that color. He was born from a red tulip, after all.)

[“Opposite of a Mistake”]

What’s the opposite of calling someone a mistake?

“I’m glad you exist.”

“I’m so happy you were born.”

“I love you.”

Shannon says them all in his head or out loud, even as the four-year-old wakes him up at too-early hour, a wide toothy grin lifting his chubby cheeks. Curls halo Jasper’s pleased face.

Jasper doesn’t want his hair cut—cries if anyone suggests it—so Shannon watches as it grows more and more with each passing day.

Shannon brushes some off his son’s forehead as he remains in bed, too willfully tired to get up sooner than five minutes from now. Dawn spills between the curtains, reminding him that he could sleep in for a bit if he didn’t have a child. Wouldn’t need to sleep in if not for that same child.

And that’s fine.

[Untitled, placeholder is “You have a brother”]

“Did you know,” Sophronia begins in a whisper, lips almost pressed to El’s ear, “that we have an older brother? His name is Shannon, and this is his season.”

Summer reminds her of him. It doesn’t matter how much time passes. The memories fade but never disappear. The strong scent of rain-soaked earth or the sweet smell of the rosebuds on the bushes in the garden always bring back her fondest times with him.

Then he did something bad—so bad, her parents couldn’t tell her the details—and she couldn’t even be left alone with him.

“He’s dangerous, Sophie,” Papa would tell her.

“Why?”

“He did something horrible that hurt a lot of people, and I don’t want him to hurt you.”

Her parents never let her ask more questions after that.

She still doesn’t understand why Shannon is a taboo subject and she’s not even allowed to mention he exists. She is the oldest child, and summer is no more.

But summer is now, the cicadas loud in her ears, the sun strong enough to require a parasol. It’s unmistakable that she once knew a skinny young boy with features similar to Papa’s whose hair was as golden as the wheat swaying in the field down the road. He was always warm enough to snuggle in winter beneath the wools and furs.

[Untitled, placeholder “Shannon stuff”]

“Papa, please! Please, don’t leave me in here—”

The sound cuts as Vivian waves his hand impatiently. One snap of the wrist, and the noise—filtered through the cellar and laundry room doors—mutes behind the barrier he has cast.

Vivian sighs and leans back in his chair. It’s a temporary and inauthentic peace, but it provides him with enough time to calm down. If he’s lucky, the boy will as well.

Graham should be home soon. They’ll have to move again, and it needs to happen quickly, before the townspeople arrive to knock down their doors.

It’s all that child’s fault.

Bailey peers up at Vivian as she huddles against the back door. When there’s yelling, she always avoids him. Her tail sits between her legs, ears back, snout down.

Graham returns within the hour, carrying in a freshly snared rabbit for supper. He scares Bailey from her spot, and she slinks off to Shannon’s bedroom—presumably to hide beneath his bed.

The mood of the home is palpable enough that Graham pauses. Vivian sits stiffly at the table, eyes rimmed with red and mouth set in a grim line. His hair is disheveled, like someone tried to pull it from his scalp.

“What happened?” Graham glances around as he sets the rabbit on the bench where he skins and prepares meat. “Where is he?”

Vivian rubs at his face. “Cellar.”

Graham lifts the rabbit back up to slam it down again. “Vivian, we’ve talked about this!” He makes a beeline for the laundry room.

“We have to move. Tonight.”

Graham turns, uneasy eyes falling on Vivian. “What happened?”

“That insolent little fool blurted out something while we were in town. Made a comment that I could just cool myself off with my magic if I was hot. People overheard him.”

“He’s only eleven. He forgot.”

“Don’t make excuses for him. He knew better—he’s always known better! I might never take him into town again. He can stay in the cellar until he’s an adult. Let’s see how well he fares when it’s his magic they’re after! If he gets any magic. I hope not.”

“You don’t mean that—any of that.” When Vivian doesn’t answer, Graham grimaces. “Please tell me you didn’t mean that.”

“I don’t know what I mean, except that it can’t go on like this.”

“How long has he been down there?”

“Two hours, maybe?”

“Vivian!” Graham glances at the laundry room door before turning back to his husband. “He’s so quiet.”

They both are aware of how hard Shannon screams when he’s put down there. How he bangs on the door until his knuckles are bruised. How he scratches at the wood with his nails until they chip to bloody stubs at the quick.

Graham turns to Vivian, eyes narrowed. “I can’t hear anything at all.”

“I used a sound barrier.”

Graham closes his eyes, nostrils flaring with every angry breath.

“I liked living here,” snaps Vivian. “We could’ve eked out a living here for another year or two—maybe even longer, if we were careful. He ruined everything.”

[“Avoiding Guilt”]

Shannon stomped through the tall grass and sniffed at flowers. He chased grasshoppers, marveled at cicada shells, and caught a frog in his little hands.

Vivian followed behind him. Emitted cool air and sighed when it did nothing. Offered smiles he did not feel in his heart when Shannon showed off captures.

“Put them back, don’t hurt them,” Vivian told him.

Shannon listened. Dashed off on his too-quick feet.

[“Summer in Distress” chapter 10]

Shannon drifts on like a breathing specter, living through days he doesn’t want to live, dreaming through nights he doesn’t want to dream.

He survives through decades. His mental health rises and falls like a winding road through hills, and there are times he’s grateful to Phineas, who holds all the credit for getting him through his lowest days.

[“Cosmos” chapter 1] (Note: this is a backstory about Vivian, and he doesn’t have a name at first.)

The boy is four—unbeknownst to him—with grubby hands that clench the hem of his over-sized tunic. His fierce stare is full of a level of hatred no child his age should know. The bruises wrap around his ribcage, the coloration a time-line of different beatings.

Some of his scars and bruises are from his parents’ children, some from his parents.

[“Seasons”, new chapter to insert (the new chapter 20)] [Vivian’s POV]

My children have begun to make a habit of disappearing from my household. First Howie left with the intention of following me to work, then El went into town to track his sister, and now Howie has decided to run away.

I should have anticipated this from him. He has pushed at the seams of my magic and my patience, wandering into territory I warned him not to go. The other boys back off, but Howard refuses to heed my warnings.

This second time leaving the property appears to be an attempt at running away.

Graham is angry at me and can barely conceal it. This, he claims, is all my doing. Now he fears for Howie’s safety, as if my own concerns aren’t equal to his.

[“Seasons”, possibly the new chapter 22] [Vivian’s POV]

No summer. No foul summers, hot and humid and screaming…