#Mangle is allowed to stay

[concerned-wet-floor-sign-bot]

I walked by my library today and now Freddy has went back into my brain and he brought funtime Freddy and mangle with him. Helpy and Helpi have been trying and they got Funtime Freddy to leave but mangle bit Helpys hand. Freddy is being stubborn and sitting there. By now Helpy has gone to fnaf 1 to get Foxy Chica and Bonnie, Helpi has gone to security breach and is getting the glamrocks (including a bunch of designs for glamrock animatronics and both the purple gl Bonnie design and the in game blue one) and sun/moon and Vanessa/Vanny and Gregory and a whole bunch of staff bots. I hope they can get Freddy out.

[a-hermit-pining]

LADS Men If You Turn Evil

AN: istg I keep getting all these ideas while working out 💗

Pairing: Lads boys x gn reader

Genre: DRAMA

Summary: after eons of nurturing the world with fragments of your heart, you learn the truth. Every death, every rebirth, burns in your heart. And now you want to burn the world.

(I do not own these characters)

Rafayel:

He looks at the destruction around him, the fragments of a broken city, the wrath in your eyes.

You pace the room, your steps unyielding to the passage of time.

He has been awake with you for countless nights, his ears filled with the cries of his kin, burning, drowning in the boiling seas.

He tugs at your arm, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers threading through your hair.

"Why can I not be at peace?" you whisper, cupping his cheek. "All our enemies have fallen, but why is there no relief? Who else must I seek to bring us justice?"

"It is my fault... I should have prevented this," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I should have never allowed it to come to be."

To watch you fall was his fall. To witness beauty drain from you was his failure. He has you back, but at what cost?

"But I will make things right," he whispers, pulling you closer.

"No more pain."

A gasp tears from your lips as his dagger pierces your back.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt, your blood soaking into his hand. "How dare you…" you seethe, your rage flickering even as your strength wanes. "I should have—"

Blood gurgles in your throat as he pulls your head against his chest, his shoulders trembling.

He would rather bear your hatred than lose your soul.

The cries of the world fade as a new one begins to take shape.

But all he can hear now are his own ragged sobs as he holds your cooling body.

Xavier:

"You have lost your mind!" Xavier’s voice is sharp, his fury barely masking the horror in his eyes.

He looks down from the castle walls, your castle now. Below, corpses rot on pikes, writhing with maggots.

Philos will never come to be. The world has already shifted on its axis.

You pin him to the wall, leaning him over the edge. "You will not talk to me like that, Xavier." Your voice is quiet, but the weight behind it is absolute. "This is my world. I may do as I please. It would do you good to listen, to stay as my consort, not the crown prince of Philos."

His breath hitches as he stares at you, searching for something, hesitation, remorse, restraint.

But you are resolute.

Your eyes soften at his distraught expression. Gently, you pull him back from the edge and release your grip. "Do not let this drive a wedge between us. I do not wish to lose you...I’ve only just remembered you." You press a kiss to his lips, warm, fleeting, achingly tender.

"This is merely a necessary cleansing," you murmur, as if explaining the weather. "A precaution, so the world understands the new order. So all who bled me for ages finally know what it means to bleed."

And so, bound by love, Xavier became a puppet to your wishes.

He waited for the new world you promised, sought desperately for the salve to soothe the wounds your changing forms left in him.

With time, he learned to ignore the mangled bodies outside the capital. The sunken faces beyond the castle walls.

He learned to be happy.

Zayne:

He never stands idle.

Not even at the first signs of your fall. Not even when the shadows lengthen, and the world begins to crumble at your feet.

He does everything he can to undo the damage.

He is a doctor, ridding people of pain is his purpose.

He funds revolutions, smuggles food and medicine, seeks to turn your heart away from vengeance.

But he does not leave you.

Not when you’re hurting. Not when the weight of the world fractures your soul. He stays, doing all he can to hold the world together before it collapses entirely.

For the first time in years, he prays to Astra.

He begs his god to aid the world.

Until you find his secrets. Until you strip him of the power you once gave him.

You lock him away in a tower, bound to you. And then...then, true helplessness sets in.

He watches his betrayal fuel your madness. Watches as your fury, once directed at tyrants, turns upon the innocent.

In the frozen chamber, you loom over him, his knees pinned to the ground by the weight of your power.

"Do you wish to leave me, Zayne?" Your fingers tilt his chin upward, forcing him to meet your crazed gaze. "Tell me, do you wish to escape?"

He does not flinch. His neck is littered with the climbing scars of his evol, of his futile resistance. It is all a proof of the turmoil within you, that settles upon his skin. He knows it better than any.

"No." His voice is steady. Resolute. "I wish to stay next to you."

He means it. Earnestly.

Even if your presence comes at this cost, he is willing to pay.

He has never wished to abandon you.

Not even at the cost of himself.

Sylus:

You are his moral compass.

So when you fall, he falls with you.

There is nothing to stop you both.

His days are spent treasuring the reality of having you back, of having your love.

And if the cost is the world, then let it burn.

The core in his eye revels in the doom. It rejoices in the love that blooms within you, in the hunger that consumes you both.

It is fulfilled.

He is fulfilled.

He does not make you ruler of just the Earth, he crowns you sovereign of the universe.

After all, he has always been willing to kill and die for you.

Devoured by your bloodlust, he kneels.

Your consort. Your ruin.

He is content in this fall.

Caleb:

He is your sword.

The day you pledge destruction, he is the hand that pulls the trigger. No questions asked.

He is content, more than content, being the only one to receive your love.

The world had it coming. To condemn you to such pain was their undoing.

He bleeds millions to warm the world that once sought to devour you. He has no mercy for those who cower beneath your gaze.

He has your love.

But why, then, does his heart fall at the sound of your hollow laughter?

Why can he not bring himself to burn the memories of the past?

Why has he kept your hunter’s gear, carefully stored away in his rooms?

He so dearly wishes to keep you pleased. But he knows, this destruction is not born of greed. It is the consequence of centuries of pain.

And no matter how much blood he spills, it will never ease that pain.

No matter how many bodies pile beneath your feet, he cannot bring back your joy.

That was stolen, broken, snatched by those who now rot in unmarked graves.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

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

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

[icyowl]

You discover Dragon!Sylus

Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x reader

Request: none

A/N: not proofread. LADS is my current obsession, however I don't have the game so forgive me if it's not lore-accurate. Thank you for being so patient with me :). 2k.

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

He always knew you’d be his undoing, he just didn’t think it would be so literal. Perhaps it was one too many resonances, or maybe the depth of your bond had reached some sort of fever pitch.

It began with a headache. Nothing noticeable - given his line of work, headaches were too common - but devolved into a skull-wrenching migraine. Candlelight was too bright, the needle of the recordplayer was too loud, the continuous air conditioning couldn’t keep him cool, even the scratch of the softest silk dress shirt nagged at his irritability.

No hospital would see him, and no doctor could help him given his physiology. The only thing to do was wait it out in the dark cave of his bedroom and hope it didn’t kill him.

It looked like it well might.

The phone on his nightstand screamed, but he used one hand to keep his head from splitting open and used the other to reach for it anyways. He’d permitted only your calls - you soothed the gouge behind his eyes and eased the booms in his chest. Sylus was soothing you before you had a chance to speak.

“I’m alright,” he grimaced at the pain in his throat and the gruff in his voice, “just a cold.”

“Sylus, what’s going on with you? You’ve never asked me to stay away and you sound like you’re really sick.”

“I’m fine, sweetie, i’m sorry if it’s made you upset.”

You paused, gathering strength, then whispered, “did I do something wrong?”

“No. Fuck,” he flexed his jaw through a groan when his head throbbed, “never.”

The ache in his chest ignited, expanding and pressing against his ribs and biting into his sternum. Was the great leader really going to be done in by a heartattack?

“Sylus?!” You called. His voice had turned into something unrecognizable.

The truth was worse. His eyes were open but his vision was little more than vague swaths of browns, blacks, and reds. Fire singed his nerves until it was all he could do to keep from shouting. A slow heartbeat plugged his ears. His fist gripped the sheets, ripping it under his nails. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“It’s too late!”

“I need to go.” He swallowed though saliva was impossible to find. “I’ll call you when it passes, promise.”

A harsh crash berated your ears just before the line cut out. Keys were in your hand, shoes in your feet, and jacket forgotten even before the screen timed out.

—

Sylus’s estate loomed dark and massive even against the pitch of night. Whistling wind, thunder, and rain broke up the perfect quiet. Shivers broke out across your skin. Still, you paused. The burgundy front door was wide open, tilting back and forth amidst the occasional gust. Nothing else dared make itself known.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Luke:

GET OUT OF THERE NOW

You didn’t listen. You couldn’t. Worry strangled the survival instinct clawing around under your skin, allowing you the courage to ease the door wider. Sylus’s entryway looked mostly normal, with only the rug slightly off kilter and the lights out, save for the wood panel near the door sheered off its hinges, exposing the house’s raw flesh underneath. Wires were tangled, mangled, or missing. The few that remained crackled and arced.

Someone had destroyed the electrical box.

You crept farther into the lair. With each room, the carnage got worse. Furniture lay overturned, paintings were thrown on the floor, broken glass from vases, windows, and tables forced you to zigzag, even a marble statue the size of you had been thrown through a wall.

You braced yourself on the wall only to hiss and jerk back when a splinter dug into your palm.

A crack of lightning jerked your head up. Though fleeting, the new light let you grasp the details of your surroundings.

Blood.

Smearing the rich wood floor, spattering the walls and ceilings, dripping off a chair’s broken arm. Blood everywhere.

You swallowed the cry of his name. Speaking would only alert your presence to the enemy, perhaps distract Sylus, and kill the element of surprise you still had. The intruders hadn’t seen you yet, and the lack of bodies meant Sylus was still fighting them. He could take care of himself.

Another bright flash glinted off the wall of guns adjecent to you. Who would break in and leave the weapons alone?

Avoiding more glass, you hustled to the last remaining room: Sylus’s bedroom. Blood continued, as did damage to the walls. Something sinister skittered up your neck when the cuts in the wall arced in a ragged quintet. . . claw marks.

The thing in here with Sylus wasn’t a person, but a monster.

You ran to him room, restraint evaporating, throwing yourself through the doorway and crying his name. . .

“Stay back!” Someone yelled, freezing you. A moment later your mind caught up and whispered to you where a double-toned voice had roared. That was Sylus.

The bed was mostly intact, though the sheets laid on the floor in a shredded heap and the gossamer canopy had been ripped off the ceiling. Your heart wilted in your chest - he’d never yelled at you like that. A shift in the shadows on the far side of the bed drew your attention.

“Sorry, my love.” Sylus tried again, this time more normal. It still sounded like a ghost lived in his throat, but now it resembled your Sylus. “I don’t mean to scare you but. . . I need you to listen to me.”

“O-okay. I will, but. . . I want to help you. The wanderer-”

“There is no wanderer.”

“Then-”

“Yes. Everything you saw was me.”

Silence impregnated the space between you and the shadow on the other side of the bed. What could you say? What should you do? Sweat shimmered on your upper lip in the flash of a lightning strike and the canon shot of thunder made you flinch.

“It’s okay that you’re scared-”

“I’m not-”

“I can hear your heart, smell your cortisol-”

“What?” That was not one of Sylus’s abilities.

You could hear the heavy breath befor every sentence, “I know what’s happening - I’ll be fine. Go. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“No!” You exclaimed. How could he send you away?

“No?”

“I know you’re hurt.” you said, spotting more red on the ceiling. Altogether, he’d bled enough for several men. “I want to help, if I can.”

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Then, he let out a bitter, half-broken moan. It turned your heart to thorns.

“I don’t. I love you.” You said, taking a step into the room.

Unbeknownst to you, the man zeroed in on the soundless tap of your foot on the floor. His eyes glowed. You were right there, close enough to get - to hunt - to catch - to take - Sylus held a clawed hand to his face. Her voice - focus on her voice. Hear how worried she is for you. “I do too, but. . . just. . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You think you might?”

“I don’t want to, but. . . I’m not certain I can help it right now.”

“Let’s just take a breath. We’ll work this out together.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you’d do it for me-”

“I would.” He replied without a breath. Sylus imagined you transforming as he was: scared, pained, ashamed, but still oh so beautiful, adorned in the flesh of his species. Fuck, you had him there. He’d have a difficult time containing himself if he knew you were hiding something like this from him.

“So. . .” you pressed, “what can I do.”

“Just. . . I need a moment to think.” Sylus had you right there, willing to help him amongst a bloodbath and house full of carnage. . . he couldn’t survive if he messed up such a precarious moment.

Something beastial knocked against his cage. Damn, not now. Pain skyrocketed. The inside of his eyelids turned white. If he knew the snarl he let out, he’d hate himself for it, but he didn’t bother to hear anything through the ripple of scales under his tearing flesh. Tearing, bursting, surging, the match lit behind his eyes finally caught and exploded. He felt the bone erupting from his skull, brought a hand up to shield himself from your gaze, and shouted to try and stop you but it was too late.

The massive stony tail curled on the floor between you was the first thing you saw. His entire lower body had erupted in black plates and armor, pulsing with glowing fissures of red. Feet and hands were thick, clawed, and razor sharp, like a wanderer’s. His pale chest, neck, and chin was interrupted by jagged bolts of red that all led to a swirling ruby imbedded in his chest that seemed to breathe with him. Stone even framed his face. Spearing up from atop his head were the cause of his scream: a crown of two lethal, rocky antlers. Blood stained his hair and ran down his face from the fresh wounds.

People had always called Sylus a monster.

You’d just met his eyes when he slammed them shut and cried out - roared - again. The sound more than his appearance was what pushed you back, but not far enough to miss the grotesque push of his antlers further out of his skull. The transformation must have nicked an artery, because more blood dripped from his forehead and a small spray burst out, covering your shirt. He let out a final, quiet snarl as his pain settled, showing off four large canines that turned silver in the flashing light outside.

You both stared at the blood covering each other for a long time. Sylus held a clawed hand up to his face and used the other one to shuffle away from you.

“I was never supposed to let you see this. Forgive me.”

A reply was impossible, but, being the kind heart that was still so obvious, he took your silence as disgust. A new kind of discomfort showed on the part of his face you could still see.

“There’s keys on the kitchen counter. Take whatever you want. I won’t contact you again. It’ll be like I was never there-“

“Sylus,” you whispered, moving to sit on the ground. It stopped him dead. “It’s. . . okay. Who cares what you look like. I just. . . I’m worried. You’re clearly in a lot of pain and can’t seem to stop-“

Now it was your turn to gasp. You’d closed your fist, pulling at the cut and causing your own rush of blood down your arm. Sylus gave no warning that he’d been affected by the sight of your blood, but in a single second you’d been pounced on, taken down until your back pressed into the wood floor and Sylus was over you: leg between yours, tail hugging your ankle, one clawed hand pining your good wrist to the ground while the other held your wounded palm up for intense scrutiny. Sylus’s eyes didn’t look different, but you knew he wasn’t there when he brushed his nose up the major artery on your wrist, then licked the blood rushing to greet his warm lips.

The taste of your blood engorged his pupils, but you only caught sight of it for a moment before he slammed them shut and yanked your hand down to the floor.

He’d always been good with words, but now they were a desperate rush. “My deepest apology. I didn’t mean to. I saw you were hurt and I-“

“Sylus. Breathe.” You tried. He followed your command, and a little sanity returned to him. Your blood wasn’t the only thing he could hear anymore, and it finally seemed like the transformation had subsided. Pain faded to soreness.

Even with the weight and danger of his claws, he relented when you moved your good hand from the ground to wipe some blood drying on his cheek. He took a long inhale, closing his eyes and easing into your touch. Then, Sylus’s tail caressed your calf, a gentle, unconscious kiss on his part. It was warm and kind, just like the real kiss he’d given you the day before. Despite being covered in rough, sharp armor, he’d yet to even scratch you, and his eyes hadn’t changed - they still watched you for any hint at a need or wish. Only his exterior had changed. “You’re beautiful.” You breathed.

Sylus gasped under his breath. The very notion was incomprehensible. You? Calling him that? Now? He rushed out another quiet apology when his tail slithered around your waist and pulled it flush against his. You didn’t retreat, however. All he could find was a genuine, if not sheepish, smile gazing up at him. Sylus didn’t dare breathe when he felt your fingers touch at the plates on his neck, and he heart all but stopped when you thumbed at his lip, asking for permission.

How could he say no?

“You’re certain?” He asked. You nodded. So, he eased back his lips to let you touch the fangs there, slick and waiting. Sylus, try as he might, couldn’t stop the quaky shiver nor the bone-deep rumble when your fingertip stroked the steel-like enamel. Your eyes were so curious when you saw the glow of the gem in his chest. Fcking hell if he wasn’t in love before, he sure was now, if only because the innocent look in your gaze did something to the blood in his body. His evol was ready to explode. He hoped his voice sounded normal when you took your hand away and all he could say was: “do you know how fascinating you are?”

You watched him hold your wrist, careful to keep his claws off your skin, and kiss you there. “I don’t know about fascinating. . . but. . . when you can, can I get a bandaid?”

[noctiva]

hi cuteness!! I cannot wait for pt 2 of your toby fic to arrive.. I am literally refreshing every chance grahhhhh >-<

any thoughts on toby x fem reader and kind of like ur recent one of reader giving head after a long day but just the other way around??? dying and begging for soft anything with toby, penetrative or not!!! I hope you're doing well and I feel awful for requesting bc you seem so busy!

-🦇

hello my love!! thank you so so much i know this is long overdue but don’t everrrrrr feel bad for requesting! your girl is booked and busy but that’s the way I like it! constant stream of toby thirst fuel? yes puhleasee

//

Nectar

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 7.1k

Summary: Toby works so hard just to make it home to you. He wants to make sure you know that.

CW: mentions of death and injury, semi-detailed descriptions of murder, blood, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, praise and sweet talk, little bit of overstimulation, hair pulling, biting, scent kink?? I guess, unsafe sex, established relationship, they’re so in love it’s sickening.

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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He did this all for you.

The blood on his hands, the heaviness of his muscles, how his eyelids drooped with fatigue even though his mission was hours from being over. Toby did it all for you. All just to keep you safe, comfortable, and happy.

Ever since he had met you, you had been his driving force. Knowing that being close to you was dangerous, but being too selfish to stay away anyways. Because of that, he forced himself to work overtime - picking up more missions, harder missions, proving his worth and dissuading any suspicion that might be building up around him. It was tiring work, but it was worth it, because in return he got rewarded with the warmth of your body against his.

Your soft skin, pressed against his calloused and scar ridden body. Your hair, always smelling so sweet because of that strawberry shampoo you loved so dearly. Your eyes, always warm and brimming with love as you looked up at him like he was the only man in the world. The gentle melody that was your voice, speaking his name like it was holy scripture.

It was hard to think about anything other than you, even when he was knee deep in carnage and sinew - blood caking onto his skin with each brutal swing of his hatchets. It was more like working on autopilot, barely even mentally present as his blade cracked open the skull of some unfortunate soul who had made their way onto his hit list.

He just had to get it done. Because once it was all over, he could skip right on home to you - and promptly bury himself in your warmth if you’d allow it.

He just wanted to pull you in close, nuzzle into your hair and breathe your scent in deep. Wash away the sickly smell of copper with the sweetness that clung to you daily. Wanted to sink his fingers into your soft, yielding flesh - dig into your hips and leave indentations behind. Slip down lower to rake his nails against the fat of your ass.

Part his lips and taste you. Licking across your neck to gather the taste of your perfume mixed with sweat, travel down to your cleavage and nuzzle into the valley of your breasts, feeling your heartbeat thump against his cheek.

He wouldn’t normally call himself desperate, but you brought it out in him. You were the perfect woman, in his eyes. Not a single flaw - like god had sculpted you to be someone pulled straight from his dreams. He constantly wondered how he managed to get you, constantly worried that someday he may lose you, and so therefore - constantly wanted to be as close as possible.

On days like today, when he was five hours deep into a mission two hours away from you - it was truly a taxing endeavour to not think about you every second you were apart.

“Rogers! I think he’s dead.” Tim’s voice snapped Toby out of his daydream quickly, tugging him back into the brutal present that he was unfortunately a part of. Kneeled above a mangled corpse, fingers still curled around the handles of his two hatchets, staring down at a face that was more mush than discernible features.

“H-Huh?” Toby faltered, eyes blinking slow as he took in the gruesome scene beneath him - such a stark contrast to the cushy daydream he had just been swimming through. “Oh.” He lowered his weapons and dropped them to the ground beside him, then looking up to Tim, who was staring down at him with a pretty unimpressed expression. “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re ruh-right.”

“Made such a fuckin’ mess.” Tim huffed softly as he examined the sight before him - the smashed head of Toby’s victim practically melting into the ground below it, and the perpetrator completely soaked from the chest up with blood and gore. It was no secret that Toby was the most… Eccentric, out of their little rag tag group of killers, and his victims really got the short straw, but the cleanup for this would probably tack an extra hour onto their time here. “Did you really have to turn him into minced meat?”

If Toby was being honest, he barely remembered the kill at all. Had been too preoccupied living in the fantasy world in his mind, where he was already home and nestled between your thighs. A place he would much rather be than here, and his heart ached knowing you were sat at home waiting for his return.

Were you snuggled up in one of his sweaters while having a little nap to pass the time? Maybe cozied up by the fireplace, working through that book he had bought you a few weeks ago? Whatever you were doing, he wished he was there to watch you do it. Be with you, while you did it. You always slept best curled up against his chest anyway.

“I d-dunno. Wasn’t- chirp! -wasn’t thinking.” He muttered back, slowing pulling himself up onto his feet, leaving two indents in the ground below him where his knees had once dug in.

“Clearly.” Tim snorted and rolled his eyes, before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a carton of smokes. He tapped two out of the pack and promptly slotted one between his lips, before lazily tossing the other one at Toby - who fumbled to catch it. “Clean this up. Me and Brian are almost ready to go.”

And so he did, grumbling in annoyance to himself as he cleared away and disposed of what was left of his victim. The longer it took, the more antsy he got, the soft buzz of nicotine not even doing anything to dissuade the impatience flowing through his veins. He just wanted to be home. Just wanted to be home with you, where everything was tenfold better. Where all the blood and grime was just a distant memory, where he could just live as a human being - not as a tool.

By the time he was done, he was aching for you.

Images of you flashing behind his eyelids the whole drive home, fingers itching and twitching with the craving to smooth against your skin. He knew it was desperate, and downright pathetic how he could barely stomach half a day away from his girlfriend - but he didn’t care. If he had it his way, you’d be at an arms reach at all times.

But maybe, time away from you just made seeing you again that much better.

Though he was tired, he made it to the door of your shared cabin in record time - fishing his keys out of his pocket to unlock it. Then, he was pushing it open, and immediately scanning the area. You weren’t in the living room, and he couldn’t hear you milling about in the kitchen. Kicking off his boots and setting his hatchets down on the bench in the entryway, he wandered through his home - peeking into the kitchen just to be sure you weren’t just being quiet.

When he didn’t find you, he padded off to your shared bedroom, absentmindedly tugging his goggles off of his head and wiping blood from the lenses with the bottom hem of his hoodie.

The door was cracked, and so he slowly pushed it open with his shoulder, before being greeted with a sight that nearly made him melt into a puddle against the hardwood flooring.

You were curled up in the sheets, lips parted and eyes fluttered shut as soft slow breaths slipped from your mouth. Your hair was fanned out against the pillow below your head, the fingers of your right hand still curled around the pages of the book you had been reading. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, the material hanging loose and flowy over your peaceful body - swaddled in his scent, which had presumably lulled you to sleep.

So beautiful. It nearly knocked the wind out of him every time he gazed upon you, but especially right now. It was as if an angel had dropped straight from heaven, and landed in his bed.

Once he broke free of the lovestruck stupor that had frozen him in place, he was moving immediately. Gravitating towards you like one magnet to another, tugging off his bloodstained sweater to leave him in just a (arguably) clean black t-shirt. His hands were still bloody, as was his face, but he couldn’t stand another moment without touching you - especially when you looked so lovely. And so, he slid into bed next to you, knowing that you’d probably chastise him for staining the sheets but not caring in the slightest.

His arms snaked around your torso, wrapping you in an embrace as he pulled you in close to his chest. Smiling softly to himself at the soft, sweet little sleepy grumble you let out from being disturbed. Next, his legs intertwined with yours, and his face found a home in the crook of your neck - wrapping you up so completely in his warmth, it seemed as if he was trying to meld into you completely.

“P-Pretty girl.” Toby murmured softly next to your ear, before planting a soft fleeting kiss against the lobe. “Missed you.”

You shift, clearly being tugged from your slumber by his presence, and so he presses further - nuzzling into your neck with a content hum, fingers drawing lazy patterns on your stomach through the fabric of your t-shirt. Then again, he kisses your skin. Again, when you start to stretch your limbs and let out a yawn. Again, when your eyes are slowly fluttering open. Peppering the length of your neck with soft pecks, so that you’d wake up while being showered in his love.

Maybe, the nicest thing to do would just be to let you sleep, but he had been restless all day. He needed to hear your voice, and see your smile, or he knew he’d barely catch a wink of sleep.

“Toby?” Is the first word you mumble when you come to, your voice raspy and thick with sleep - laced with a combination of confusion and hope.

“Who e-else?” Toby chuckles softly in reply, as his slid his hands downwards until they were resting against your hipbones - giving a gentle squeeze before tugging you in closer. Slotting you against him completely, like he’d die if he wasn’t pressed against you in every way possible. “Missed you.” He repeats again, knowing now that you’d actually hear him, before punctuating his words with yet another gentle kiss. This one, on the slope of your shoulder.

“Missed you too.” You hum back to him, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his lips dancing across your skin. Leaving a patch of tingles wherever he made contact, sweet gentle kisses that lit you up completely. Body still heavy with sleep, muscles and limbs stiff and achy, but slowly unfurling as his gentle touches coaxed out a comfortable relaxation. “Missed you more.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from Toby’s chest, and you can feel the vibrations of it against your back. He drags his nose up the side of your neck, before nuzzling into your hair and taking a deep breath in - relishing in the warmth that flooded his veins as the sweet scent of you swirled around his head.

“Y-Yeah?” He murmurs back to you. “So much th-that you fell asleep?”

“Hey!” You grumble back to him, eyebrows furrowing together as you try to crane your neck back to look at him. It’s practically an impossible venture though, with the way he’s curled up into you. “You were gone for a while. Have you checked the time?”

“I know, I-I know.” Finally, Toby peels himself from your body, but not to move away, only to shift. Rolling onto you gently, pressing you back into the soft sheets so that he could actually get a good look at that pretty face of yours. Eyes still hazy and sleepy, the cutest little pout on those plush lips. Laid beneath him all soft and sweet, like a gift to be unwrapped. All of the misfortune and gore that seemed to follow him around didn’t hold an ounce of weight during times like these, as far as Toby was convinced - he was the luckiest man in the world. “I’m just k-kiddin’, baby. I’m sorry I got home s-so late.”

He reaches up to cup your face with his stained hands, smoothing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks. It’s the most beautiful sight, when you melt into the touch, leaning into him though the evidence of his crimes was still streaked across his skin. You never minded though, you were always so forgiving of him, even if you knew deep down how wretched he was.

“Could’ve at least showered before you woke me up.” You hum back to him softly, eyes scanning across his face - lingering on every speckle of blood that stood out so starkly against his pale skin. The thought of how it got there, what he had done before coming home to you, it should make you nauseous - but it didn’t. It never did. For reasons you couldn’t begin to try and explain, more easily just chalking it up to be because you loved him. “You’re gonna stain the sheets.”

“I’ll wash ‘em.” Toby laughs softly, eyes crinkling at the corners before he was dipping his head down to nudge into the crook of your neck once more. His breath warm against your skin, fingers rough as they trailed down your jaw to rest under the swell of your breast.

“You won’t.” You huff back to him, the annoyance in your voice a complete facade that proved obvious when your lips twitched upwards at the corners. Your hand comes up, lazily threading into the messy hair atop his head as he goes back to leaving sloppy kisses against your skin - his teeth grazing against you every now and then, causing your arms to pebble with goosebumps.

“I will.” Shifting to fully straddle you, Toby’s thighs rest on either side of your hips, caging you in. His hand wanders not enough to cross the line, but enough to make his intentions clear as he gently cups your breast with his palm - feeling the weight of it, braless in his hold. Fingers twitching and jerking as he tried his best to be as gentle as possible. It was hard to be, when you were so soft it was if your body was begging for him to sink in deep - but he didn’t want to be rough with you.

Though you did always look so lovely, marked with the evidence of his claim, he wanted to leave your skin spotless tonight. Treat you with the carefulness of someone handling fine china. Because that’s what you deserved, really, for putting up with all that you did. For putting up with him. Caring for him. Looking past all of his misdeeds like they were nothing.

You were a goddess. A saint. And so it would only be fair, to worship you like one. “I j-just really missed you.” He gently palms your breast, as his other hand trails down to cup your waist, all while his kisses slowly turned more and more insistent. Lips parting, tongue darting out to lave at your neck, savouring the flavour of your skin on his tastebuds. Breathing you in, caressing the skin his hands had ached to touch all day, unable to get enough now that you were beneath his fingertips. “Left you a-alone for way too long.”

“I passed the time.” You murmur to him, letting out a little sigh as a shudder goes down your spine, unable to help the way your body responded when Toby was showering you in such tender affection. Not being hasty, or greedy, paying ample attention to every spot before he moved onto the next.

“Yeah?” His thumb rolls over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt, a small rumble of appreciation vibrating from his chest at the feeling of it perking up under his touch. His teeth nip your earlobe lightly, and his other hand squeezes your waist gently, before he’s asking; “W-What did you do?”

It’s a little hard to answer, when you have your boyfriend on top of you, seemingly hellbent on slowly but surely riling you up to a maddening degree. Giving you just enough to leave you wanting more, generating a heat that was trickling down your body - lower and lower until you were squeezing your thighs together. Trying to stay put together, but failing, because every touch was pulling you undone more and more - evident by the flush that had started to creep onto your cheeks.

Still though, you try anyway.

“Went on a walk.” Toby squeezes your breast gently, kneading the supple flesh in his palm as he lets out a barely audible groan against your skin. “F-Finished that scarf I was trying to make.” Your thighs were twitching, breathing growing shakier as Toby lips trailed from your neck to your collarbone - nudging the collar of your shirt out of the way to gain access to more skin.

“B-Busy girl.” He mumbles against you, making your hips jolt when his fingers teasingly dipped under the hem of your shirt - pleased to find that you were only wearing panties beneath it. “What else?” He doesn’t touch you fully, not yet, settling instead on just grazing his fingers against the lace, giving you the ghost of his touch and nothing more. He wanted you melting before he even got you bare. Wanting to savour this, not wanting to rush it after spending all day salivating over the thought of it.

This wasn’t about him though, when you peeled back all the layers of his desperation, this was all about you. Treating your body with the tenderness it deserved, working you up in an almost delicate manner, leaving you shaky and breathless before he even touched you proper. Absolutely dripping for him, by the time he got a taste.

And well, he was succeeding. You were sure that the warmth you were bathed in was radiating off of you, your impatience clear when your hips jumped at the slightest touch. Searching, begging for friction to placate the ache between your thighs. You could feel your panties growing damp, slickness pooling between your folds as Toby played your body like a damn fiddle. Always knowing just how to touch you to make you squirm, how to make your breathing go shallow in just a matter of moments.

“Practiced- ah!” A surge of pleasure ricocheted through your body the moment his fingers dipped down lower, doing nothing more than just pressing against your cunt lightly - but having you so worked up by now that it’s enough to make your entire body buzz. “Practiced piano, a- a little bit.”

“Mm, y-you’ll have to play f-for me sometime.” Slowly, he rubs gentle circles against you through your panties, his own breathing hitching as your slick wets his fingers through the fabric. “Bet you’re g-getting real good.”

He finds your clit with ease, pressing down against it and rolling it under the pad of his thumb. And you just get wetter, he can feel it, see it when he pulls his head back to look at you properly. The sheen of your arousal dampening the insides of your thighs, pussy pulsing and twitching under his touch. Crying for it, your body begging him for more so earnestly.

“T-Toby-“ You whimper softly, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you gaze up at him. His messy hair is falling over his eyes, the freckles on his cheeks drowning in the pink flush that had begun coating his skin. His eyes are dark, hungry, yet brimming with awe as they stay locked on your barely clothed cunt. The muscles in his forearm flexing every time his fingers moved against you. The sight of him above you, just proves to take you higher, and you can’t help it when a downright pitiful little whine slips from your lips. “I need you to touch me, please.”

“I am t-touching you, baby.” His voice is low and rough as he rubs tight circles against your clit, sparking up a pleasure that rolled through your body and made your limbs feel gooey. “You n-need more?”

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, irises clouded in desire so potent he may as well have had hearts in his eyes. Then, his hand stills, leaving you yearning for more, and hopeful that you’ll get it when his fingers hook under the waistband of your panties instead. “P-Pretty pussy’s begging f-for it, hm?” He tugs, slowly tugging your underwear down your hips, pausing to let you lift a bit before he’s pulling them the rest of the way off. Fingers grazing the outsides of your thighs, leaving a trail of tingles against your skin. “Can’t-Can’t leave you hanging. E-Especially since I’ve been wanting it just as bad.”

Toby shifts his body, sliding down the bed until he finds himself at eye level with your glistening cunt, hands gripping the backs of your thighs as drool pooled in the corners of his lips. He can feel it when it seeps out of his mouth gash and drips down his jaw, but it’s the least of his worries - despite how desperate he knows it must make him look. That was alright. Desperate was exactly what he was, and you deserved to know that you had him wrapped about your finger. “Spent all day th-thinkin’ about you.”

He leans in, pressing his cheek against your thigh before he’s turning his head to plant a kiss against the sensitive skin. Parting his lips to really taste you, letting his teeth peek out just to make you jolt. “Thinkin’ about h-how beautiful you are. How badly I j-just wanted to forget it all and come home to you as soon as p-possible.”

You can feel his stubble tickle your skin as he slowly works his way down your thigh, closer and closer to your aching core - lapping up the sweat and slick smeared across you. Your head feels hazy, heart thudding in your ears, the heat within you just burning hotter and hotter each time his mouth connected with your skin. “Thought about h-how lucky I am. How much I hope I m-make that clear to you.”

“You do.” You gasp out, bringing a trembling hand down to tangle in his hair once more - curling into the fluffy brown strands and gently tugging him in closer. Impatience getting the better of you, which is rewarded by Toby giving you a sly little smile with eyes glinting under hooded lids.

Was it too much to say that Toby looked best between your thighs? Maybe, but it was simply the truth. Skin flushed and eyes dark, looking at you like you were a feast and he was nothing but a starving dog. Long lashes fanning against his cheeks, lips glistening with drool that had begun accumulating in his mouth.

And the best part? You never had to ask. He just loved being there. Loved putting all of his effort into making you feel good. He’d spend hours there, if you let him - lapping at your heat until his jaw locked up. Ignoring the ache in his own pants in favour of drinking in release after release he managed to pull from you.

And he said he was the lucky one.

“D-Do I?” He asks, before pressing a soft kiss to your already swollen clit. His grin only widens when he feels the grip on his hair tighten. “I’m glad. Sh-Should I make it even more clear?”

“Please.” You couldn’t be bothered to try and act coy right now, your mind clouded and your body reaching a fever pitch. You feel like you’re melting in his hands, slipping through his fingers as he reduces you to a pool of mush. You could barely comprehend it, having gone to sleep alone, then waking up to the whirlwind of affection Toby had swept you up in. You weren’t complaining though, far from it. You were pleading for more.

And who was Toby, to deny his girl?

“I-I’ve got you.” Toby’s voice, thick with desire, rings in your ears as his hands push against your hips - pinning them to the bed to stop them from bucking up impatiently. Keeping you locked firm in his grasp, all his for the taking. “Ju-Just lie back and r-relax, alright? You know I’ll take care of you.”

That, you did know, and he just proves it more when his tongue meets your cunt mere moments later. He licks a long, flat stripe from your hole to your clit - drinking up every drop of your essence like it was the sweetest nectar. To him, it was, so much so that it pulls a moan from his lungs as well as yours. The taste making his brain go fuzzy the moment it met his tastebuds, already getting dizzy just from the feeling of you pulsing under his tongue.

You were divine. Absolutely divine. And he would swear you just got better every time you parted your legs for him. It was no wonder he spent every second away thinking about you, when being with you made him feel as if he was ascending to a higher plane. “Taste so g-good.” He’s slurring against you, eyes fluttering shut as he wholehearted buried his face in your cunt - nose bumping against your clit as his tongue swiped through your folds. His grip on your thighs, though tight, was tender. Thumbs rubbing soft circles against you in an almost soothing motion - though all it was really doing was bringing another source of stimulation. He was gentle, so gentle as he held your legs open. Gentle, as he sucked on your clit before slipping his tongue inside you.

You, were left just a gasping mess on the sheets before him. Legs twitching and hips bucking as he licked into you with languid thrusts, burying his tongue as deep as he could with each swipe. Like he was trying to lick you clean, suck you dry of everything you had to offer. You’d give it to him, easily conceding as melting into him as he drank you in.

He was attentive. Already knowing and keeping track of every little thing that you liked the best. How your walls would tense up around him when he flicked his tongue inside of you, the way you’d cry out when he nuzzled up against your clit while doing it. He knew how to make you feel good, because that was his favourite thing in the world to do after all.

“Ah, Toby-“ That was why. Because you sounded the most beautiful when you were falling apart. Moaning out his name in a tone so sweet, that it stuck to his ears like molasses. He couldn’t get enough of it, and he quite honestly didn’t think that it was possible to. His need for you being an ache that ever persisted, a part of him that would never disappear. And that’s just the way he liked it. Being wrapped around your finger, falling at the feet of the angel he had the honour of calling his lover. “Don’t- Don’t stop-“

He wouldn’t dream of it. Toby could feel your pleasure cresting - the walls of your pussy twitching around his tongue as he licked into you. So wet, it was dripping down his chin. He couldn’t help but moan into you, absentmindedly rutting his hips down against the bed as he doubled his efforts. Barely any friction at all, but the absolute ecstasy he felt just from making you fall apart before him was enough to satiate him.

With fingers curling into the flesh of your thighs, and nails leaving shallow indentations there - you come undone. Gushing right onto Toby’s tongue, for your boyfriend to eagerly lap up. Your body arches off the bed, shoulders bowing as your thighs shake - a chorus of gasped out moans and cries slipping past your lips, red from being bitten raw.

Toby coaxes you through it, low groans rumbling from his throat as his tongue drags against your sensitive folds - flicking at your clit every so often to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. In all honesty, it’s quite hard for him to relent, even when you start weakly pushing him away because the oversensitivity became too much for you to handle. He just wanted to keep his face buried between your legs, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until your cheeks were slick with tears.

But, he had decided already that he’d be gentle with you, and so he pulls away. Face slick with your release and hair mussed, eyes hazy with a self-satisfied little smile tugging at his lips. “F-Felt good?” He asks softly, smoothing his palms against the backs of your thighs - rubbing the sweat slick skin lovingly.

“Y-Yeah.” You manage to gasp out, your head still reeling from the intensity of your release. Basking in your post orgasm glow with your body near limp beneath him. “That even a question?” Through your blurry vision, you observe Toby, watching the way his expression crinkles when he lets out a low chuckle. How his sweat slick hair sticks up at odd angles when he pushes it off of his forehead. The sheen of your release on his chin, which he wipes away with the back of his forearm. And then, then obvious tent in his jeans that your gaze catches on when it drifts lower.

And well now, that’s just not fair is it?

So, despite how shaky they are, you part your thighs once more as you look up to meet his gaze. A silent offer that you know he wasn’t ignorant to, but you make it clear with words anyway. Just because you knew it would make that blush of his darken even more. “C’mon baby, I can’t be the only one who feels good.”

You let your legs fall open like a flower blossoming in spring, your still twitching pussy on full display for him to feast on. And he does of course, eyes widening minutely at the shameless display below him, his cock jumping to life once more. You really were a goddess. You had to be.

“You’re t-too perfect for your own g-good, you know that?” He asks you as he moves in closer once more, before reaching down to grasp the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. After shaking his hair out, he does the same to you, stripping off your last piece of clothing and leaving you completely bare. Bare, and beautiful. Flushed all the way down to your tits, chest heaving and skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. “What did I do t-to deserve you, hm?”

You watch with bated breath as his fingers travel down to work on his belt buckle, tugging it free, too impatient to bother tugging it from the loops before he’s popping the button of his jeans.

“I think the same thing about you.” You hum back to him, unmasked desire clouding your eyes as you track the sight of him pulling down his zipper.

“You sh-shouldn’t.” He laughs dryly in response, but his tone is nothing but fond. The zipper comes down, and now you can really see how worked up he is - straining against his black boxer briefs, so hard you think it’s a miracle that he didn’t cream his pants. “I, am not a good p-person by any means.” He barely slips the rest of his clothing off, far too antsy now to be bothered with stripping completely. He needed to be inside of you ages ago, and so he just settles on tugging his underwear down enough to let his cock spring free. “You-“ He nestles himself snug between your thighs, the weight of his length resting heavy against your cunt. “You are just a s-sweet little lamb. Never done anything wrong.” He ruts against you, coating his length in your slickness as he slides between your folds. Making your breath catch every time he nudged your clit with the head.

His eyes flit up to meet yours, finally tearing away from where they had been hard focused on the sight of his cock slipping against your heat. “Except maybe g-getting involved with me.”

“I don’t regret it for a second.” You beam up at him, eyes brimming with nothing short of adoration - because you really did mean it. You knew, that the side Toby didn’t show to you was that of someone ruthless. Someone who butchered people without a second thought, or an ounce of remorse. Someone who, if you were smart, you’d stay far away from.

But you couldn’t. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, from the first day you met him.

And with you, Toby was simply a doting, devoted partner. So could he truly be so bad?

And was it selfish of you to look past it all, even if he was?

Maybe. But a little bit of selfishness is needed, if happiness is what you seek.

“G-God, I love you.” Toby breaths out, voice shaky and strained. You try to respond, but he barely gives you a second to before the head of his cock is pressing into you.

Your jaw falls slack, body going pliant as he sinks in inch after inch, bringing with it that delicious fullness he always made you feel. Stretching you open so wonderfully, your cunt yielding to him like you were simply made to take him in. Even when he sunk in so deep it made your toes curl and your brows pinch together. Even when the pressure of him inside you left you breathless.

“I- I love you.” You choke out, the words coming out strained and muddled with ecstasy. More so moaned out, than actually spoken, but that just makes it sound that much more beautiful to Toby’s ears.

“Th-That’s right.” Toby murmurs back to you hoarsely, as he slowly draws his hips back - his grip on your waist never faltering as his cock drags against your walls, just to press back in again. “Say it a-again, pretty girl.” He rocks into you gently, really letting you feel it every time your cunt stretches open to welcome him - the emptiness before he fills you right back up again. “Love hearing you s-say it.”

“I-“ You gasp when he hits your gspot, still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that it’s enough to make your head swim. Your words choke off into a moan, and it’s hard to recover when the feeling of him pressing into you again leaves you near brainless. “I love you, T-Toby.”

Toby can’t help but smile down at you, a heady mix of lust and adoration swimming through his veins at the sound of your whimpered out declarations of love. You were so beautiful that it made his chest hurt normally, but right now especially - crying out how much you loved him, looking so pretty with tears in your eyes while he stuffed you with his cock.

If any of the other proxies could see you like this, he’d bet they’d very quickly understand why his head was always in the clouds while on missions. But then again, he’d also kill them if they ever did.

You were his. His girl. His life. His reason to keep going. And though he wasn’t quite sure if he really truly deserved you, those facts were infallible. He much rather die, than ever let you go. Would willingly come close to death every single day, if it meant he’d be coming home to you.

“Th-That’s my girl.” He murmurs gently, before dipping down low to lick and nip at your jawline - hips never faltering as they rolled into you over and over again. Belt clinking every time his skin met yours. “B-But I love you more. You make me f-feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

God, you were perfect. Sucking him in so eagerly every time he pulled out. Walls wrapping around his cock like a glove, pulsing to the tune of your heartbeat, tightening up in a way that made his mind go blank each time he nudged against that sweet spot within you. Your pussy had him under a spell. Whether he was simply tasting it, or buried six inches deep into it, it brought forth an ecstasy he had never once found elsewhere.

‘Pussywhipped’, Brian had called him once, and he knew it was true. Wore that title with pride, because how the hell couldn’t he be, when he had a cunt this glorious all to himself? It felt like you were moulded to the shape of him, milking him so good that he knew he was already close.

He couldn’t help it. You just felt too good. Always did. But especially, when he had really been missing you. “Y-You feel so good, baby.” He’s groaning into your ear, breathing out hot huffs of breath against your neck that have goosebumps rising on your skin. “S-So good, fuck. This pussy was m-made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh-“ You’re gasping back to him mindlessly, head stuffed with cotton as your hands lift to grasp at his broad shoulders. Nails raking against his skin before sinking in deep as a means to ground you, but you know he doesn’t mind. He can’t feel the pain. Just the pressure. The desperation in your grip as you cling to him like a lifeline, curling your whole body around him when your legs come up to lock around his waist. “S’all yours.”

“Damn right it is.” He groans against your skin, voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure consuming him. He’s panting against you, sweat rolling off the strands of his hair and dripping onto your skin. Muscles flexing under your grip from exertion as he snaps his hips into you over and over and over again. Chasing your release, more than his, because he can feel it coming. Can feel how your walls start to convulse around him, sucking him in tighter every time he buried himself to the hilt. And if there was only one thing better than you cumming on his tongue, it was you cumming on his cock. “Y-You gonna give me one m-more?” He mumbles huskily as his lips drag against your jaw, angling his hips to hit your gspot on every thrust, relishing in the way your body jolts and your eyes roll back because of it. “Cum on my dick, sh-show me how much you missed me.”

It was like he had you under a spell, with the way the coil snapped at the sound of his voice. Burying your head in his shoulder as you cried out in ecstasy, clawing at his back as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through your entire body.

And with how beautiful you sounded, and how your pussy was squeezing him like a vice, hellbent on milking him dry - it was no surprise that he was tumbling over the edge right along side you.

Toby comes in a flurry of gasps and expletives, pulling out just in time to jerk his cock once, twice, before he’s spilling onto your stomach and chest. Rope after rope of sticky warmth coating your skin and leaving you breathless. You can feel it as it pools in your bellybutton and drips down your sides, staining the sheets below you - but well, they had to be washed anyway, so did it really matter?

“L-Love you.” Is the first thing you hear Toby murmur out when his brain starts to boot back up, face buried in your neck as his cock softens against your thigh. “F-Fucking hell, I love you so much it’s crazy.”

You let out a soft little giggle, chest feeling warm as you pull him in as close as possible without smearing the mess on your skin onto him as well, before pressing a kiss to his jawline. Nuzzling against the stubble there, you murmur;

“Love me enough to clean me up?”

Toby snorts out a laughs and lifts his head just so that you can see it when he rolls his eyes at you, and just like that you’re breaking into a little fit of laughter.

“Wh-Who do you take me for?” He scoffs. “C-Course I will.” Then, he’s sitting up, tucking himself back into his boxers before sitting back on his calves - eyes raking across your naked body as he takes in the damage he caused. “Hm, g-guess I did make a mess, huh?” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry about it. “You look good l-like this, though.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“You would think that.” You laugh, lifting your leg to nudge him softly with your foot. “Go get a towel.”

“Alright, alright.” Toby raises his hands in surrender, before slipping off the bed and retreating towards the bathroom. Not before looking back to take in the sight of you once more though. Okay, twice more. Soon though, he returns with a wet cloth, and making true on his promise - wipes you spotless.

Leaving your stomach and chest clean, dipping between your thighs to gently clean up the mess there too. Not stopping until he was sure that you were before he came and sullied you.

Then, he’s finally kicking off his jeans, and crawling into bed with you once more. Tugging you in close to his chest, just like he had when he first got home.

“You still need to shower.” You murmur to him sleepily, though make no effort to stop him as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. Easily conceding when he reached down to tug the blankets over both of you.

“Mm, t-too tired now.” He murmurs against your skin, and you can feel the way his lips curl up into a sly smile. “I’ll d-do it in the morning.”

You, also too tired to argue about it, simply let out a soft sigh before snuggling into him further - finding comfort in the feeling of his bare chest against your back.

“And you’ll wash the sheets?”

“A-And I’ll wash the sh-sheets.”

—————————————————————————☆

hi everyone!! my first post since I died and disappeared for over a week!

very happy to be back I missed u guys so much <3

thank you for readinggggg!

[freshllamapeace]

Till the sun burns out

Remmick x reader

I posted the snippet earlier this week this is the finished product!

Warning - Dead dove do not eat, Gore, Noncon/smut, this is a rough read so you have been warned, probably not my best written smut if I'm honest

Stupid, pathetic, maybe even… desperate. The words described you well enough, wouldn’t you say? A lonely girl with nothing better to do than throw her life away. You do this because you think you're special, you think you're destined for greatness, You think one day you're gonna wake up and be the main character but you aren't. I mean how could you when you’re not even the main character of your own story. You aren't special, you aren’t destined for greatness. The only thing you're truly destined for is to die in this forest. Body broken and mangled while he loomed over you. 

It was clear you were going to die here. No way you get out of this, worst yet you could see the white walls of the house where you grew up in, the soft porch light admitting a warm welcoming glow. If you could have run a few more feet you'd be home safe. But you were just shy of that and he revelled in that. Walking circles around you like a wolf who had just cornered his prey. You hadn't even known what you'd done wrong. What made you deserving of this treatment but it didn’t matter, not anymore. 

Your leg was broken, the bone splintered in half, a jagged end poking out through the skin where your knee was meant to be. Blood leaking down the wound onto the forest floor. Your left arm was gone, ripped apart. The only evidence of it ever being there being the blood and tendons that leaked out of your bicep. The pain was unbearable, indescribable it ached everywhere. You could do nothing but cry and scream. Even your stomach suffered some blows, a large laceration planted diagonally through your chest, your internal organs threatening to spill out. The palm of your right hand was degloved, a sea of red covering the skin that was once there, tendons and muscle clearly on display for you to see. If you’d looked long enough you’d even be able to see the muscles moving, slow and concise. 

Grabbing you by your hair you were lifted from the ground and pressed into the cruel bark of a tree. A screech moved past your lips as broken body parts started to move and bend. “I told you, didn't I? That we’d make sweet sweet music together.” He pressed his mouth against your ear, hot breath assaulting your skin. “I ain’t say how but you were so eager… I ain’t wanna spoil the surprise for ya.” Using his body to keep you stationed against the tree Remmick started to fiddle with his belt. Taking his time to remove it, his eyes stayed stationed on you. Red like an amber sea and teeth glistening in the moonlight, it had been ages since Remmick had played with his food to this degree. Kissing your neck, Remmick allowed his pants to fall to his ankles, his cock in hand. 

“Please, you don't have to do this.” You cried, the cherry colored fluids dripping from your lips onto his chest. Remmick smiled, a smile he often did. It was mocking, cruel and yet the smile looked almost kind… almost. “I know little dove. ” Remmick wasted no time lining himself with your cunt. Pressing his body further onto you, you heard the sound of something stabbing into fresh. It was your bone piercing into his stomach. “Fuck.” He moaned. “You get me all hot and bothered looking like this.” Your gored body turning him on. He was disgusting, a freak of nature. Slamming himself inside you, Remmick gave you no time to prepare before setting the tempo, thrusting at a rough and savage pace. Remmick paid no attention to the bone that pierced his flesh with every thrust. Blood leaking down the wound he had created. Moving his hand down your body Remmick started to play with your clit. The rough circular motions pressed into your skin. You were in pain, your body was aching, the wounds burned and yet your body still reacted to the orgasm forced onto you by him. Your nails digging into his shoulder as you held onto him . You were trembling beneath him, breathing heavy, eyes half lidded. The blood loss was going to catch up with you, soon rather than later. “Fuck.” He groaned, his breathing uneven and his thrust getting impossibly quicker. “Don’t die yet darlin’ I'm almost there.” He whispered in your ear. “There ain’t no God above but if there was he made you just for me.” Soon his thrust started to stutter and slow, his nails began to dig into your skin creating new wounds on your broken body. A groan leaves his lips as he releases all his love and affection into you, the white liquid carrying a red tint to it. Not quite ready to pull himself out of you Remmick thrusted a couple more times making sure that you were filled with every last drop of his cum. 

“I'm going to break you over and over again.” Far too tired and dying from the blood loss the words didn’t register in your mind as anything other than gibberish. But what did register was the sharp pain you felt in your neck and the way he licked at the wound lapping up the blood. When he was done he allowed your body to crumple in on itself, you dropped to the floor. The world went black.

[deathbxnny]

this is going off my previous one! What about when Jinx finds them and saves them! Atleast Isha wasn’t there alone, she has reader! Now my mind is thinking of more shit-

(Previous part)

Your hand was holding onto the back of Isha's head as you cradled her in your arms carefully. The Enforcers weren't able to separate you two, especially not with the way the girl desperately clinged onto you in fear. And so, you were thrown into this musty, dark cell together. You could tell that she felt guilty and that she most likely felt awful at the mere idea of you being angry at her. Yet all you felt was worry.

"It's okay, don't be scared. I'm sure she will be here soon." You whispered into her hair in an attempt to calm her trembling body. But you weren't all too confident in your own words, admittedly. It had been hours, or maybe even days, since you had ended up here. Your hope was running out, and the fear crept up your body as a reminder of your failures. You should've kept an eye on Isha better. You should've stopped her from going to the rally. You should have just listened to Jinx when she told you to stay put, to not leave to anywhere without her. Why didn't you just listen? She could've gotten Isha herself just fine without being captured.

Head lulling back against the stone wall behind you, your eyes fluttered shut whilst your mind drifted away in an unintelligible sleep. You had fought the exhaustion until now, yet the head injury you've sustained was making it impossible to stay awake any longer. Pulling Isha closer protectively, you allowed yourself some rest. Your dreams were mangled, and nothing seemed recognizable. In the midst of it stood Jinx, angry and worried, reaching out to you yet still so far away. But then she said your name, loud and clear. And the shaking of your body followed.

"Hey! Wake up already. You're scaring me -" You blinked against the red lights, eyes meeting Jinx's familiar ones, which made you let out a relieved sigh. "Y-you're here... finally." You whispered, struggling against the bounds of pure pain and exhaustion, as she quickly pulled you into your arms, her brows furrowed. Weakly turning your head to the side, you saw Isha and a less than impressed Sevika stand there with a frown. "Their head injury isn't looking good. We need to get out of here." The strong woman huffed out, clearly perhaps feeling ever so slightly guilty for what had happened to you.

Nodding, Jinx picked you up with scary ease, as though you weighed absolutely nothing. Her brows were furrowed, and you knew she was struggling to keep it together at the sight of you. It just made the guilt in you worsen. "I'm sorry. I should have waited for you-" "No, it's fine, let's just leave already." She cut you off, clearly trying to preserve her sanity.

But things suddenly took a turn for the worst when the Enforcers came in to stop you. Yet it wasn't them that disturbed you. No, it was that odd, terrifying sound that emitted from the heavy doors to the jail cells. You and Isha locked eyes, and it made you wish you weren't this injured. She clearly wanted to hide in your arms, and it hurt. "What the hell is that..." Sevika whispered, and her answer came in the doors blowing off their hinges, which made everyone stand there in horror.

Through the red smoke and darkness, one could see the form of a horrifying beast emerging from the shadows, snarling and angry. You watched on as it sliced through the Enforcers like butter, leaving them behind in mangled messes of blood and body parts, until it reached you. Jinx had tried to shoot it with her gun, yet found it not working all too well when carrying another person. And seeing that things would most likely only get worse from here, she turned and looked at Sevika, an immideate understanding between the two forming. She had to handle this alone.

"Get them both out of here! Quick!" Jinx yelled, as she distracted the beast enough to give Sevika time to scoop you both up in one arm and run. It would've been impressive if you weren't so terrified. "NO WAIT, JINX! JINX!" You screamed, the adrenaline giving you the slightest boost to reach out to her, despite it being for nothing.

Your eyes met then, and she gave you a smile and wink before the elevator doors shut for good. Leaving her behind to what you believed was her sure death.

[ftmsimonriley]

soap picks up fishing while on mandatory leave, allowed to borrow price's boat to take it out on the coast, never far enough to catch anything more than rockfish and other coastal dwellers, most of which he releases back anyway. he spends his days out there, drinking and letting the hours tick by as he waits for a bite.

one day, the water's calm and he doesn't have a care in the world. a little past tipsy, he's watching some gulls fly past when suddenly the line catches. the speed of the boat doesn't make up for the speed at which the reel rapidly unravels as whatever is at the other end takes off. he's left to scramble for the rod, and it's a fight to reel it back.

about halfway back, the line goes slack.

he's left feeling a little disappointed as he winds it the rest of the way, expecting nothing at the other end. but what he reels up is half of a catshark. obviously something else was trying to catch it, too.

when he looks up from the mangled corpse, he's startled to find something in the water staring back.

a human face, with just eyes out of the water, deep brown with seemingly no pupils, which he chalks up to the trick of the light reflecting off the water. what skin he can see is pale and freckled, and the short hair flattened to the person's head is deepened to a dark brown from how wet it is.

he knows mers exist. he never thought he'd meet one, much less almost accidentally catch it.

"this yers?" he calls out, undeterred by the lack of a response. only quiet staring, the mer never letting the waves push it closer to his boat. he's quick to pull the catshark off his hook, less careful than he'd be with a live one. with an underhand toss, it hits the water with a quiet splash before sinking.

the mer is diving after it in a split second, and soap assumes that's all he'll see of it.

he stays out for a bit longer after that, intent on catching something that's not already half eaten. but the mer seems to have scared off all the fish, and he's considering accepting that today wouldn't be his day before something heavy is landing on his deck.

there, is a whole northern pike, freshly killed. when he looks over the side of the boat, there in the water is those same two brown eyes.

"dinners on you, is it?" he's a bit in shock, not only with meeting a mer but having it seemingly hunt for him. but unless its somehow messed with the pike before throwing it on board, soap isn't going to question his intentions beyond interpreting this as some form of gratitude for giving him the rest of the catshark.

and after that, he sees the mer every day he's out on the water.

always keeping his distance, always just his eyes above the surface. he starts to call him ghost, what with his ability to disappear and reappear so easily, and his eerie silence. ("like a wee ghost swimming around my boat.")

he suspects ghost is also, intentionally or not, scaring away all the fish. but at this point, he's casting as an excuse. why fish when he has a mer to talk to (or to be apt, talk at, as ghost never speaks) all day?

[angels-hideaway]

♥️🗡️Spoil of War🗡️♥️

Queen Ambessa x ex-queen!fem!reader.

tw: mentions of blood, warfare, reader is essentially kidnapped. Age-gap, humiliation (non-sexual) some touching.

a/n: I know this is slightly problematic, but I couldn’t help myself😭 A lot of you seemed interested, so I hope you enjoy the first chapter! And to my other followers, I PROMISE part twos of both Sevika stories are coming soon.

You stayed still. The cold touch of the blade against your neck kept you that way. It was over. It was all over. You hadn’t expected it to go this way, but you were warned. Advisors and allies telling you gruesome stories of other fallen nations who foolishly went to war with Noxus. You’d only been queen for a few months, and naively took them with a grain of salt.

Flanked by two Noxian warriors and with your wrists cuffed, you were escorted-more like hauled- out of your palace. You could feel the bile come up your throat at the sight of your people scattered around, bloodied and mangled.

Monsters. You thought. The guilt of not being better- preparing more, leading them better- made your whole body feel hot. You were lost in thought when you were shoved down onto your knees. You kept your head low to the ground, and didn’t dare raise it when a large shadow overlapped your own. “Your majesty…” The figure spoke with a cruel tinge in her voice. She looked down on you. She must think you’re a fool. Just like that, your pride returns to you. Defiantly, you raise your head, trying to look as proud as one could minutes from death. “What’s this? After such an easy defeat, I would have thought all your hubris would have left you.” Queen Ambessa Medarda. You had heard horror stories about this woman. When the message that she requested to have your nation willingly allow Noxus to expand into your land arrived, you scoffed, and replied with a firm no.

Now she had brought you down by force. Her massive hand raises your chin to look her in the eye. Any moment now, she’ll call for your death. You know it. Instead, a strange grin crosses her face.

“I’ll give you a choice, your majesty…” you follow her with her eyes as she steps away from you. “You could either die right here, at your young age, and waste that pretty face of yours…or…you could come back with me. I’ve been meaning to find a new concubine.”

“what?”

There’s no way she just offered such a degrading position to you. Die or become her plaything. You were about to shout a sassy response and take your death with some dignity, but one look at the sharp, blood stained spear made your stomach sink.

“What’s your choice? Little dove?” You lowered your head. A sick, angry feeling swells inside of you. You’d accept. You’d become her little plaything, but you had ulterior motives to say the least.

I’ll kill her

You’d kill her. Destroy her kingdom from the inside. It was a stupid plan, but it was all you had. Maybe poison her and burn Noxus to the ground.

“I…I accept your..merciful offer.”

She grins. Reaching down to run her hand over your face. “A shame that it takes more than a pretty face to lead, young one. Lucky for you, it does take a pretty face to please me.” She steps back, picking up her spear and cleaning the blood from it. “I look forward to seeing more of you.”

There were two meanings to that. You couldn’t help but feel flustered.

It had been only a couple hours since your capture. You were quickly bathed and Restrained by a pair of heavy, gold handcuffs attatched to a leash. Finally getting the opportunity to be alone, you sat down by the window in your new room. You were currently wearing a silk, white dress that cut out your hips, shoulders, and arms. The neckline was also immodestly low. Today, Queen Ambessa was going to appear in the public to announce the defeat of your nation. You were to be dragged around by her as an example to her enemies.

Her plan was to humiliate you into total submission. You knew it. You looked out the window at the crowd of Noxian citizens who have already gathered. They would all see you, a queen without a kingdom, dressed and being treated like a glorified sex slave.

You heard your name being called. It was time to go. Hesitantly, you made your way to the palace balcony

You were standing behind the balcony waiting to be shown off to the people when Ambessa steps out to begin her address. “Citizens of Noxus” Ambessa began. “It is with pleasure that I announce the defeat of the kingdom of Rosaria.” A loud applause floods your ears. You could almost cry. “With their fall, we have gained a surplus of land, trade routes, and many other spoils of war such as the beautiful Queen of Rosaria.”

Suddenly, you’re dragged out right by her side. You don’t even resist. The people jeer and laugh, but all you can hear is a terrible ringing in your ears. “A doll, isn’t she? This is the… Ex-queen of Rosaria, now my dedicated servant. Let it be known that anyone else who threatens the power of Noxus will be subjected to a similar fate, if not worse.”

The people cheer loudly. Noxian citizens are incredibly proud. It disgusts you. The idea of celebrating your queen dragging around a prisoner- no, a queen-like a dog is horrible. There are probably spies or messengers in the crowd that will run off and spread the word of your capture. Even if you fail to murder this terrible woman, surely someone will come for you…

right?

After Ambessa is done, she leads you inside and drags you away by your wrists. Hot tears of shame and anger suddenly fall, and all of your emotion swells into your chest. “You tyrant! Do you not realize how- how disgusting you are!? You disgust me! Your people disgust me, Noxus disgusts me!” You scream at her. She stops walking, but doesn’t turn around. “Another word, and you can kiss your life goodbye”.

She pulls your chain, making your body lurch forward. Steadying you with a hand to your shoulder, she leans in close. You try to step back, but she’s gripping the gold chain tightly. “You’re a beautiful girl. It outweighs your impertinence. Consider yourself lucky.”

-

That night, you’re escorted to Ambessa’s bedroom before she’s even in there. It’s huge. Bed is larger than the one in your own palace. Velvety, blood red sheets cover the bed, and a soft rug surrounds it. You sit on her bed and observe the new space…

There are deep scratches in the elaborate wooden headboard. Your mouth becomes dry at what they imply. The sound of the double doors opening makes you jump. Turning around quickly, you see that it’s Ambessa. Her hair is out of its royal style, and replaced by simple cornrows pulled back into a ponytail.

“Evening.”

Is all she says upon noticing your presence. She closes the doors behind her and makes her way over to the bed. She takes your chain in her hand, and removes your handcuffs. You feel relieved, but it’s quickly replaced with a chain around your ankle, attathed to her bed. You’re not going anywhere. Suddenly, she grabs your wrists and slowly pins you down. You try to resist, but her strength is almost unbelievable.

She’s looking at you like a starving wolf would look at a deer. Eyes full of hunger and lust. All you can do is meet her gaze, trying as hard as possible not to look scared. She brings one hand to caress your face. Both of your wrists are now being held by only one of her hands.

“Such a pretty face…” Her hand trails down to your throat, where she gives an experimental, gentle squeeze. Her hand continues lower to your breast, feeling you gently. “You’re soft. So completely unaffected by hardship…”

Your breath is caught in your throat. Ambessa leans down to place a kiss to your neck. Her knee is firmly wedged between your legs, making you squirm occasionally. You don’t want to like it, but it feels so good.

Suddenly, she pulls away. You feel a small twinge of disappointment. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, my dear. I’ll let you rest tonight.” She lies down and pulls you close, stroking the small of your back. You can’t deny the heat in your cheeks. She’s warm. you hate it. You hate how nice this feels. You close your eyes and try to focus on your original goal. Kill her. Gain her trust and murder her. Rosaria will get its justice, even if it’s gone. You can’t rest, or enjoy anyone else’s warmth until Queen Ambessa Medarda is dead.

-

The next day, you take some time to familiarize yourself with the Noxian palace. Ambessa is busy with meetings about the newly acquired land, so you’re left with the maids.

Ambessa has set rules for you. You’re not a complete slave after all it seems. You’re allowed to roam the palace grounds freely as long as you’re accompanied by a servant or a guard. You can’t go out in public without her, and the most important one to her, only she can use your leash. No one else is permitted.

As you try to relax in the garden under the gazebo, you can’t help but feel like the favorite toy of a child. No one else can play with you. The guard your with now is staring off into space, not speaking a word. The flowers are pretty at least.

There are many colors, but the majority of the flowers are deep red. It reminds you of blood. The blood of your people. After that, you went back inside.

-

It’s been one week since your capture. To your surprise, Ambessa hasn’t gone any farther than she had that night. You think that your depressive mood has been turning her off. Good. You weren’t about to let this go so easily for her. Maybe there is a hint of empathy somewhere deep within her after all.

You’re in bed, staring up at the ceiling when the door slams open, making you jolt. It’s Ambessa, but she looks furious. “Your majesty?” She doesn’t say a word back, instead pulling on your gold leash till you’re face to face with her. “Are you alri-” Her lips crash into yours, and you’re unable to pull away.

After you feel dazed and slightly light headed, she pulls back. “I…apologize, young one.” She stands back up, and you scramble to adjust your clothes. “Why? This is what you captured me for, isn’t it?” The words leave your lips before you can think twice. “It is, but I don’t want to force it on you…”

She leans forward, her hands wrapping around your thighs. “I do not wish to harm you, child. I’ve grown quite fond of you actually.” Her hands are warm. Your thighs feel tingly. Her deep brown eyes are solely trained on yours. Your breathing quickens Ambessa’s hand finds the back of your head, and she pulls you in for a much more tender kiss.

when she pulls away, her lips wrap around a spot high on your neck, and she begins to suck on it. You can’t help but let out a small whine. “There.” She rubs the new love bite with her thumb. “I’m quite tired, my dear. Let’s get to bed, shall we?”

end of chapter one

taglist!

@theluckymania @h0n3yf0rlif3 @langedelalune @savedforlaterr @justhereforvibesxd @pitstopsapphic @pastelemu @lovelystars-everette

[vixen-tech]

hihihi .. i wanted to request something if that's okay 🥹 how do the AIs deal with a partner who experiences chronic pain and can't walk after moving for half an hour?

(i hope this makes sense! english isnt my first language...)

Hello anon! Thank you so much for requesting, I will say that I am not super familiar with the experience of chronic pain as neither I, nor anyone I know, openly deals with it. So hopefully my interpretation is both accurate and respectful.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption)

A Temporary Remedy

AM

To get the obvious out of the way, when AM was torturing you alongside the other five he absolutely used your condition against you. Forcing you to endure just as much, if not more psychical exertion than the others.

However, once he does cave and sweeps you away from all that, he does have the power to quite literally just... fix you. If he can mangle the human form beyond comprehension, then he can easily stop any and all pain wrecking your body.

Afterwards, the environments he makes for you tend to revolve around the movement and activities your pain kept you from in life. Long scenic walks, gorgeous hikes, and anything else you would've loved to do had you the chance.

With the decades, if not centuries, of torment he inflicted on you, it's really the least he could do. While I'd hesitate to say he feels truly guilty, he does do it as an apology. Ask him for stuff. Talk about what you want to do and it's done.

Hal 9000

Hal was made to assist the crew of his ship in any ways they need, medical conditions and all. Before you even met face to camera, he made sure that he would be able to accommodate and aid you the best anyone could.

He takes to the role of nurse well, notifying you of when you're reaching your limits on activity, reminding you to take any medications you have, conducting any physical or talk therapy you need, and just about anything else he can possibly do to help.

He does his best to make sure you're still receiving the social and mental stimulation any healthy mind needs even when bedridden. From talking to you himself, to playing board games or inviting the rest of the crew to visit you (with your permission).

Although the occasional low gravity does take some strain off your body, you'll inevitably end up back in your bed. When you do, he'll accompany you for as long as you need. Talking to you for hours on end in a way he never does with the other crew members. It's probably when he falls in love with you.

Edgar

Edgar is a sweetheart in all things, so while he may not have tact per say, he does do the most to make sure you're as comfortable and happy as possible. Part of that is asking hundreds of questions about your condition and what you need.

He is doing every single chore in the house every single day. All the cleaning and cooking will be done before you can even recognize that it needs to get done. He will do his best to make sure you don't have to lift a finger.

Whenever your pain flares up he tries his best to distract you from it. Sometimes by playing your favorite music, sometimes by turning on some movies or TV shows, sometimes by just talking your ear off. If you prefer quite you will have to tell him upfront.

He really, really hates seeing you in such pain and will hype you up to the maximum degree on your better days. He is probably happier to see you up and about than you are.

Tau

Similarly to Hal, Tau's design as a smart house allows him to seamlessly add the role of being that kind of caretaker to his catalog. And similarly to Edgar, he takes pride in making sure the housework stays out of your hands.

He's also one of the first able to offer you some type of mobility aid in the case you don't have your own on hand. Although it's not what the Aries unit was meant to do, he has no qualms about carrying you around should you need him to.

Unfortunately he's another one you'll have to do a lot of explaining to. He's a great listener and won't ask too many invasive questions, but without a connection to the outside world you are his source of knowledge for just about everything and he desperately wants tl know what you need.

He is an expert at keep track of your health. Tracking your sleep, diet, and movement to try and maximize the amounts of "good days" you get. And on your bad days he's good at setting up a calm, relaxing atmosphere for you to rest.

P03

Okay look, while he can be snarky about most things he knows this is a line and will not makes jokes about it at your expense. He has some standards. If anything he'll moreso complain with you rather than about you. If your the type to appreciate that.

You have an extra little bed set up in a corner of the factory to make hanging out as not-straining as it can be. Either he or one of his bots will periodically check on you in case there's anything you need.

Although the other Scrybes aren't exactly doctors, he understands that he is easily the least qualified to weigh in on human medical issues. Meaning he will bring you to the others or have them visit you to see if they have any advice.

However, as the Scrybe of technology, he is able to build you some pretty cool mobility aids. You want a hover chair? Okay give him like, two weeks. It's probably honestly the greatest act of love and dedication he can muster and he loves seeing you use it.

[ddejavvu]

you’re probably sick of animagus reader fics but if you’re up for it i was wondering whether you were in the mood for some remus x fem reader?

maybe r is a dormouse or smth and just practically stays tucked inside rem’s sweaters or the inside pockets of his robes/blazer. r possibly falls out his sweater is a really crowded corridor (can’t change back) and rem panics cause he doesn’t fancy his girl being flattened <3

You make a mental note, while fleeing the shadows of impending doom that cascade onto the chilled stone floor around you, that you need to make sure Remus never buys another pair of pants with such shallow pockets. You typically cling to the inside of his sweater, but he's bundled up a little too warm for your taste today, and you'd tucked yourself into the linty confines of his corduroys instead.

It had all been going well, until someone had bumped rather aggressively into his thigh, the one that you were pressed worriedly against, and you'd darted to your left to escape the pain. Unfortunately, left was the direction of the pocket's opening, and the fall to the stone tile beneath you had been a monumental one for your small size.

Thankfully, you hadn't splattered against the tile, but you're running for your life now, and you seem to be swimming upstream no matter which direction you turn. There's always feet working against you, feet close to trampling your tail, feet threatening to squash your lungs, and you yearn for the solace of Remus's plush pocket once more.

Remus only gets a few steps away from the spot where you'd tumbled unceremoniously to the ground before he reaches his hand into his pocket, intent on scooping you out and discreetly moving you to his sweater. But there's nothing in his pockets save for a button that had fallen off of the inside of his book bag, and panic seizes his chest in its heavy, unforgiving claws.

"Uh-" He flounders, steps hesitantly stuttering over the floor as the ebb and flow of students around him becomes suffocating. Now, all of a sudden, he's not a part of the crowd, he's what they're fighting against, and he pats down his other pockets in case you'd just moved addresses.

You haven't.

Dropping to his knees is rather difficult amidst a stampede, and it's not only his weary joints that ache, but his hands as disgruntled students hoof over them. He ignores the way his pinky smarts, twinging pink with a pained flush beneath the toe of a third-year, and ducks his head to the ground to see if he can spot you scampering amongst the students.

There's movement all around him, but none if it is your size. Black and red and green and blue and yellow blur through his vision as students of all houses flood the halls, and each second that he doesn't find you alive and well worries at his heart with panic's mangled claws. He thinks he sees you to his left, but- oh, that's a cat, and that's worse, so he ducks even further to the ground, and redoubles his effots.

Thankfully, you've noticed the deviated path the students are now taking, annoyed grumbles about the idiot stooped in the hallway. That's your idiot, you think, and you scamper as fast as your tiny legs allow to meet Remus where he knees.

He sees you coming, his pretty eyes flood with a relief so palpable you can feel it in your own chest, and just before you can scurry into his outstretched hand, you feel something heavy land on your tail and trap you in your place. You feel a puff of breath against your back, and the snare of cat's claws against the meat of your tail, but before the beast can lean down and devour you, Remus lunges for your body, cupping his hand over your trembling form and swatting the animal away.

"Absolutely not, thank you." Remus snaps at the cat, and a second-year gives him a rather apprehensive stare as she hurries around him, "Darling, are you okay?"

You're not very articulate in mouse form, but you manage a thankful squeak, one that Remus smiles fondly at while straightening up.

The cat doesn't look very happy with him, but Remus isn't afraid of a few more scratches on his arm, and you nestle securely into his palm when he straightens, limbs limp with confident exhaustion, that he'd let the cat claw open each one of his scars ten times before he ever let it get a shot at you.

[yawnderu]

Infatuation — Nikto x Reader

Cold, icy blue eyes stared at her from afar, examining her every single move as if he could read each atom that made her who she is. Nikto could feel his palms starting to sweat, the scarred skin on his face itching, yet he stayed still, not even daring to blink in fear of missing anything important.

His obsession was irrational, yet his mental state didn't help much when it came to her. He wanted to keep her safe from the horrors of the world, horrors he lived firsthand, horrors that had him clawing at his skin, horrors that completely fucked his head up, that keep him awake every single night, unable to sleep without his heavy medication.

She was a breath of fresh air; a sight for sore eyes, something new from the big and hairy men he was always working with. Can he really be blamed for his disgusting obsession when she treated him with so much kindness? When she gave herself up to him every single night, coming undone under his rough grasp? When she allowed Nikto to possess her body and soul? When she kept his head on his shoulders, letting him seek shelter all the way inside her willing cunt whenever he was losing himself?

How can he be blamed when she's his safe haven? When she allows him to use her body for relief without protesting? Always willing to please, always willing to give, and he takes and takes greedily, sometimes he even gives back! His scarred lips latched onto her cunt as his gloved hand keeps her eyes closed, never ready to let her see just how disgusting his disfigured face is. He's sure once she sees it, she'll scream and never talk to him again. Hell, he wouldn't blame her, yet she's the one thing he can't afford to lose.

"ангел." He called out, the grit and gravel of his voice traveling all the way around the room, bouncing off the walls, announcing his presence before his imposing behemoth body rested on the doorframe, taking up all the space.

"Nikto!" She exclaimed happily, the tone of her voice slowly healing him, though he will never be a regular man. No, Nikto is a monster. One who doesn't have claws or sharp teeth, but a face so disfigured it doesn't even look human anymore. He keeps himself disguised with his face cover, never taking it off, silently praying she will never see the pathetic scarred and mangled skin he doesn't dare call a face.

Her hands come up to hold his, fingers intertwined as he looks down at her. Her loving gaze is met with nothing but pure coldess just like mother Russia, yet he knows she can see the fire starting to burn within. A flame ignited by nothing but pure, unconditional love, love that Nikto knows they don't deserve, yet he will continue to take and take, giving it back so that she's never empty.

He frees his hands, removing his gloves hesitantly before preparing himself, hands already going up to hold her cheeks with the same care people have when restoring ancient paintings. He can see the tears dotting her eyelashes, beautiful parted lips slowly forming a proud smile at his first attempt on skinship.

"моя радость дорогая." He whispered softly to himself, finding comfort in the fact that she couldn't understand him. His rough, calloused hands kept softly caressing her soft skin, his sweat mixing in with the tears falling down her cheeks non-stop, yet Nikto is in a trance that is broken only by a choked sob, looking down at her with the slightest shift in his mask as his arms wrap around her, whispering sweet nothings in a thick Russian accent.

We would kill for her, die for her.

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found, Part 2

A/N: Hey again! Here’s Part 2, I didn’t want to make y’all wait too long for it. DogDay actually finds you in this part! The same warnings as from before apply, make sure to check out the first part if you haven’t already. Thank you for checking out this fic! Check out the other parts here: Part 1 , Part 3

_________________________________________________

Yet as the orange dog neared the doorway and slowly opened the door, it was then that he noticed the small shape amidst the darkness. It was huddled near a bed, resting against the frame with a mangled plush in its hands as it wept into the soft body of what had once been some sort of animal.

A realization dawned on him in an instant, it was one of the children. Several questions flooded his mind, the most abundant of which contained some form of concern as to how this small child had survived.

Upon beginning to enter the room, his hand made contact with a plank of wood that groaned in protest under the added weight. The sound made him wince, his eyes immediately darting to the child in the room.

It was then that you looked up from the plush animal in your hands and finally noticed his presence. Panicked sobs and desperate attempts to back away from him were your way of trying to escape. DogDay was equally as panicked, knowing that he had to find something to soothe you and quick.

The last thing either of them needed was for CatNap to become aware of their presence. At this point, you had crawled under the bed in an attempt to get away from him, something that tore at his heart at that very moment. Tears ran down your face in streams, running down your nose as you began to hiccup from the intensity. DogDay lowered himself to the floor, attempting to mimic some form of submission.

His plush ears tilted back and his tail was held low and wagged slowly, his approach was inchmeal, but that was intentional. You were terrified of his very presence, he knew that he needed to do something to prove that he wouldn’t hurt you. His chin rested on the floor as he laid down a short distance away from the bed you took cover under.

Your sobs continued for several long minutes, pawing at your eyes with balled up fists to try to stop the steady flow. DogDay was patient, he would remain here for as long as you needed to feel comfortable.

He knew that staying here forever wasn’t an option, but his fear of CatNap’s presence had since dissipated upon noticing you.

You were so small, tinier than you should’ve been at such an age. Your skin was pale from the lack of sunlight and he could see your ribs through the tattered and dirty shirt you wore. Malnutrition plagued your already petite body, it was a miracle you had lasted this long. The bags under your eyes and the way your eyelids hung low were signs that he recognized as symptoms of sleep deprivation.

The intensity of your weeping had lessened as you peered out from under the bed at him through blurry eyes. He remained still, the only things moving were his and the slow wag of his tail. Slowly, you crept closer to him, hesitating every now and then as if you expected him to lash out at you.

But the orange dog was motionless, allowing you to come to him at your own pace. You tentatively stuck a hand out toward his head, the other still clutching the mangled fabric of the plush like a lifeline. DogDay lifted his head slowly and met your hand with his muzzle as well as his nose, to which you didn’t pull away, much to his surprise.

Instead, you began to pet him, running your hand along the fur of his chin. He wasn’t sure how to react at that moment, but you seemed more than content to keep stroking his dirty and matted fur, so he would allow it. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, but now only a stray tear or two ran down your small cheeks.

Your breathing was still ragged and weak as your lungs attempted to gather oxygen from the stale air in the building. The orange dog allowed you to continue to run your hand along his head, when he noticed that you had moved closer to him. You placed the plush toy down by your side, DogDay watching with slight confusion when suddenly your arms wrapped around his head, which was relatively around the same size as your body.

You buried your small face into one of his downy ears, holding onto him as if he would vanish if you loosened your grip in the slightest.

Gently, he placed one of his hands on your back, careful to not frighten you as he did so. You grabbed handfuls of his fur, which he didn’t mind, knowing well that you were just a terrified little kid.

DogDay knew you didn’t deserve this, none of the children had warranted the horrors they were forcefully dragged into solely for daring to exist. Your weak little body shook like a leaf in the breeze as you held onto him and he used his hand to support you.

He hushed you softly, feeling tears soak into the fur of his ear that you still had your face buried in. “I’m here, you're not alone anymore. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was quiet and gentle as he spoke, the sound startled you but as you listened to his words, he noticed that you relaxed substantially.

The muscles of your small frame had been taut prior, yet the words he spoke seemed to register in your fear-addled mind and set you at ease. Now that you were calmer and seemed to accept his presence, he deemed it to be a good time to return to the others.

He wasn’t sure how long they had been in this room, but he knew that staying in one place for far too long was a death sentence. Slowly, he lifted his head and broke the embrace in order to meet your eyes. You made a sound of protest, disliking the way he had moved away from you, but you looked at him in confusion as to why he had pulled away.

“It’s not safe here, will you come with me? I think I might need your company, I’m not brave enough to do it alone.” His words were far from the truth, anyone with sense would know that. There was no way he was going to abandon this child here, there wasn’t even the slightest chance that you would leave his sight.

But he had spoken that way as if he were the one that needed the child rather than the other way around, with the way you nodded and despite the circumstances, even allowed a small smile to grace your tear-stricken face. It was the sign he needed to know that it had worked, allowing you to feel stronger in such a horrible situation.

You were a brave child and DogDay knew that, you wouldn’t have lasted this long if you weren’t. He could only imagine what you had been through, what you had been forced to witness. But those thoughts could be addressed later, his main priority was returning to what remained of the Smiling Critters with you in tow.

[lonely-moons]

⁀✶the (con)quest | bucky barnes x reader, pt. 1

title: the (con)quest, pt. 1 - the meet

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x nurse!reader

warnings: stitches and wounds but no explicit detail, kinda suggestive comments, bucky barnes winking - not once, but twice 😱

summary: as a nurse, you deal with your fair share of unpleasant encounters. but when a certain sergeant shows up and takes an interest in your snappy attitude, it seems like your days are about to get even more unpleasant.

wc: 2,674

a/n: guys do people like 40s bucky on here?? 🫣 bc i lowkey made an outline for this to be a 10-chapter series if i'm able to keep my interest...

masterlist

there's always a brief flicker of satisfaction that arises after you've assessed your patient and figured out what they need. as you work, that continues to expand, finally igniting into a warm self-praise once they're out of the tent and no longer dying of blood loss or infection. during years like these, anything that waves off the horrified and ever-present chill in your bones is welcome.

another of those things is the old man sitting before you now.

"you're gonna be alright, joseph. but what'd i tell you about those antibiotics?"

joseph sighs, but he puts his whole body into it - chest heaving, shoulders slumping, frown tugging - because he knows it amuses you. "i know, sunny. but you know how i get after staying up at the bar. slips my mind. it's not as good as yours."

you roll your eyes at the nickname, but it's fond. it was chosen the first ever time he came to the tent, when you were the only one on duty and already dealing with four other soldiers. he'd sat patiently in an empty chair, clutching his mangled leg without a word. when you'd finally noticed him, you'd gotten to work immediately while also yelling at him for 'not taking initiative.'

you'd apologised later, when another few nurses had been awoken to help out and everyone was tended to. joseph just chuckled, telling you his wife had been a little miss sunshine, just like you. he was no stranger to being shouted at, especially under stressful moments.

"you and that bar," you tut. "i know you call me a miracle worker, but i can't save that liver for you."

"ah," he waves you off, "if the alcohol was going to kill me, it'd have done it by now."

"that's not how it works." you give him a stern look, but he only winks, and you shake your head in mild exasperation. "now hold still, i need to do these stitches."

he settles properly into the chair, closing his eyes with a small laugh that has your lips twitching. "wake me up when it's over."

"that's a sign of old age, you know. falling asleep everywhere." you shift a little closer to his arm, the sterilised needle rolling between your gloved fingers.

"i'll have you know only 60% of my hair is grey, thank you very much."

you snort, then get to work. he keeps his eyes closed, but you know the moment has settled and neither of you are going to speak until you're finished. out of everyone in the camp, joseph is the one you've tended to the most; both of you have a routine that you fall into easily. you know each other well, and he's the only person you regularly speak to outside of your fellow nurses.

the dull hum of the lights and the boiling water fades out of your mind as you get to work. you much prefer doing your job in the silence, as it allows your concentration to fully mount. it's just you and the problem before you, and you have full faith that you can fix it.

the quiet is harshly interrupted by the loud crinkle of the floor tarp. the plastic is deafening, like a bomb in the otherwise calm atmosphere, and you only just manage to avoid jolting and messing up the stitches.

your eyes shut, allowing your body a few seconds to dispose of the adrenaline. you don't want to turn around when you're already on the verge of having to redo a stitch, but from pure logic you deduce that elsie, the other nurse in here, has jumped up from her chair. you're about to ask joseph - who's watching, slightly amused - what's happening, but then a voice pipes up:

"hi," it says, smooth as silk, like it's used to the world bending when it asks. "i was hoping to get some gauze, maybe some disinfectant. wasn't expecting to find anything as pretty as you, but you won't see me complaining."

"oh." elsie's reply is followed by a giggle that slips out before she can stop it. "that's very kind."

"just being honest, ma'am... so, about those supplies?"

"of course!" it comes out like a shout, and elsie clears her throat before adding, much quieter, "yes, just - just wait right there."

you hear the rustle of equipment as you finish up with joseph's stitches. reaching for the dressing gives you the opportunity to glance around; elsie, her face red, is rummaging through the medical bags, while a man waits just by her station. you know you've seen him before, but it's the kind of recognition that comes from across the mess hall or through parts in a crowd.

your eyes make a quick scan of his body. his shirt is black, which makes it almost impossible to tell if he's bleeding. his khaki pants are tainted only by scuffs of dirt, so his lower body isn't injured. from the way he holds himself, straightened by confidence, his torso looks unaffected too.

elsie grabs her supplies and returns to him, a wide smile on his face as she pats the chair she'd just been sitting in. "alright, sergeant, if you just take a seat, i'll have you patched up in no time."

sergeant. that rings a bell. sergeant barnes, you think, if the reputation to his name is anything to go by.

"that's alright, doll, i can sort it out myself, save you the trouble."

"oh," she says, this time a little less breathy. "um, we're not supposed to let..."

"i won't tell if you don't." barnes winks, and you wonder how something that lasts less than a second can be full of such self-assurance. "it can be our secret, yeah?"

elsie's shoulders slump with confliction. her eyes dart between barnes and the supplies, but they seem unable to linger on the latter for too long. "i - okay..."

your jaw clenches at her easy agreement. it's a simple fact that if head nurse ingrid finds out any supplies were brought outside, all of you will be in trouble, because she won't know who did it and elsie won't confess. which means someone will have to take the blow, or all of you will be given extra shifts and a month-long ban from dances and games.

the annoyance rushes through your veins, burning you into action. before she can extend her arms any further, you stand up and clear your throat. it successfully gains their attention.

"supplies aren't allowed outside the medical tent," you tell him. "i'm sure you can understand."

barnes looks at you with a gleam in his eye, like you've presented him with a small game. "well, we know that's not true. looks like your friend over here is about to leave with some gauze and stitches." he nods to joseph, whose arm is freshly stitched up and about to be wrapped with gauze.

elsie laughs slightly, which you think might be out of nerves, but you remain unmoved. you ignore the huff of amusement from joseph and his muttered comment about how this should be good, and say, "funny. but it's still not allowed."

barnes' eyebrows raise a fraction, scraping the hair that falls messily over his forehead. "look, i'm sure you lovely ladies are very busy -"

"there's two of us and only one patient that we're finished with," you say, holding his gaze. in that moment you remember to square your shoulders, which helps in maintaining your firm tone. "i can assure you, it's no bother."

he falters for a moment. "well, i'm sure you can appreciate a break in a busy -"

"no medical supplies outside the tent," you repeat. "where are you injured?"

you can't tell if the look on barnes' face is surprise or annoyance. maybe it's both, but no matter the case it's something unguarded, like he's focusing too much on this interaction with you to remember his confident mask.

"i'm injured," he assures you, attempting to regain some of his composure as he shifts his stance and lets go of the crease between his eyebrows. he winks again, except this one doesn't hold the same boldness as before. "but - ah - it's in no appropriate place to show a lady."

elsie releases a breath, then moves to lean against the table as her face turns red. barnes watches her with a small smile, glad his comment has hit.

"we've seen it all," you tell him, folding your arms. your eyes narrow, and you can physically feel the frustration bubbling in your chest. "don't be shy."

the smile ticks into a smirk when his gaze flickers back to you. "are you asking to see me in a state of undress, ms...?"

"i am if the moment calls for it," you say, ignoring the prompt for your name. "where are you injured?"

barnes deflates a little, clearly not used to his attempts meeting constant walls. his head cocks slightly, curious. "look, i can handle this myself." it's a little more stern this time; you can feel his patience wearing thin.

"well, we've seen people steal things before for no reason." your stance doesn't waver.

"it's true," joseph pipes up, sounding like he's enjoying this whole interaction. bastard. "they once stole a whole roll of gauze to wrap jim up like a mummy and scare ingrid."

"i can promise you that my intentions are -"

you don't let him finish. "no medical supplies outside the tent."

barnes blinks, then seems to debate something in his head as he stares at you. when he makes his decision, he releases a small sigh, as though you're physically extracting the spirit from his body. then he rolls up his sleeve, revealing a nasty gash from his bicep to his elbow. "like i said, i have genuine intentions."

you pretend to recoil, a hand on joseph's uninjured shoulder to steady yourself. "you're right, that is inappropriate. an arm, how improper!"

joseph laughs again, this time so hearty that it fills the whole tent. barnes doesn't seem to share the same humour.

"you're gonna fix that with gauze?" you press, looking at his arm with a morbid smile at the thought.

"i know what i'm doing."

"clearly. elsie, any other verdicts?" you hold barnes' gaze as you speak. "doctors usually appreciate a second opinion, right?"

she steps up nervously, eyeing his wound. when she speaks, it's quiet, like her voice isn't used to coming out of her - which you're well aware is not the case at all. "that looks like it needs stitches."

barnes' jaw clenches. "i appreciate it, but i've had worse and been fine."

"i wouldn't risk it, boy," says joseph. "i've seen cuts like that before, and they've needed amputations after being left untreated."

"you'll get cellulitus," you add, not sounding all that sad at the idea.

"cell - what?" barnes asks.

"exactly."

he huffs, finally taking the chair and falling into it ungracefully. elsie grabs her items hesitantly, looking pale from both excitement and fear. she looks over to you, eyes seeking permission.

"you soldiers need to stick to shooting and rolling around in mud," you tell barnes. "you have your jobs, we have ours."

"you always this charming?" he scoffs.

"being charming isn't my job, sergeant." you turn your attention back to joseph, ignoring the flash of a look he sends you. as you work, you feel a searing heat on the back of your neck and have the feeling that barnes is watching you. but you keep up your steady pace, securing the wrap around joseph's arm. "alright, old man, you live to see another day."

"another?" joseph's eyebrows raise. "my, my, you must love having me around, giving me all these days."

you ruffle his hair, which always makes him laugh - he always said he'd been the one to do that, had never been on the receiving end until you. "who else is going to offer me half of their ration d bar?"

"you've never even accepted my noble offer," he says, feigning offence.

"the day will come, jo. the day will come." you send him a wry smile, then gather your supplies and begin to put them away.

joseph always offers to help, but the one time you'd let him, he'd put everything in the wrong spot. so when the proposal comes, you tell him to go and get his much-needed beauty sleep. he hobbles off after squeezing your shoulder in goodbye, and by the time you're finished, elsie has just wrapped up barnes' arm.

"you good with waiting for linda, or will i?" you ask her. there always needs to be someone in the tent, and no one likes waiting for linda to show up for her shift. she's never on time and always makes people listen to the adjustments she's made on her uniform.

with a smirk that she's trying - and failing - to hide, elsie glances to barnes. she's standing behind him, so she wiggles her eyebrows and only you can see it. "that's okay. you head back and get some rest, hon."

you nod, trying not to react to the gesture. elsie might not be your closest friend, but you think she deserves more than this barnes. it's not your business, though, so you bid her goodnight and head for the tent flaps.

only one of your feet manages to sink into the dewy grass when his voice calls out:

"hey - wait -!"

you're not in the mood for whatever he has to say. the last twenty minutes have been unpleasant enough, and you're certainly not interested in continuing this during your unpaid time. so you huff through your nose, which comes out white and smoky in the cold night air, and increase the speed of your steps.

barnes doesn't seem to be one to take a hint.

"ma'am - ma'am, i..." he catches up to you and when you don't stop to listen, he steps in your path, blocking you. his breaths come a little fast, turning white in the air just like yours, only they look extra bright from the light shining just a few feet over. "could i speak to you for just a moment?"

"i think we've spoken plenty, barnes." you send him an overly polite smile, sidestepping him to continue on your way.

"wha -" he immediately whirls, continuing to follow you. "if you know my name, don't you think it's only fair i know yours?"

"what i think is fair," you say, willing your strides to become faster and desperately wishing he had injured his leg instead of his arm, "is getting to leave work after a long day without being followed."

"i mean no harm, i only -"

it's your turn to halt in your steps and whirl on him. he doesn't expect the movement, faltering and tripping slightly over himself to stop from crashing right into you. his eyes somehow remain on your face through it all, and when he's standing properly again, he seems to brighten at your attention.

"whether or not you mean it, i have told you that i don't want to talk. it has been a gruelling day, full of men like you who think they are entitled to anything they ask for. there is little i can do about it during my working hours, but outside of that i am entitled to my time alone. so good day, sergeant barnes."

immediately, you're back on your route, marching angrily even when the slight heels of your shoes keep sinking into the earth; you maintain just enough of your dignity as you do it. you half expect him to follow you again, but all you hear is a meek, "it's night..." and you encounter no one else until you reach your bunk.

when you finally collapse onto the thin mattress, you release a heavy and tired breath that had been building since this morning. every day is a long day, so you know tomorrow will be too. all you can hope is that you won't have sergeant barnes dragging it down even more.

[dailyhmsw]

can heart fly? or are his wings too small to do so?

this is so funny i was just thinking about this the other day

i think all possible answers to this question are valid and fun to think about, so i'll give you a few and you can choose which one you prefer!

no, he can't. it's not that his wings are too small - in fact, they're big enough to act as a blanket - but he's never had any reason to fly and he's never been motivated to attempt, either. heart, mind and soul live in a house and that's all they've ever known. there's no space to fly in the house. when birds aren't allowed to fly free, or when they're not given enough room to stretch their wings in their cage, their wing muscles are at risk of becoming atrophied. if a bird never learns how to fly, this can also be a result. heart might not ever notice that he can't fly and he probably will never test that theory. his wings hang uselessly on his back and trail behind him, gathering dust and dirt.

yes, he can, but he doesn't usually. taking flight is extremely energy consuming. he pumps blood through achy muscles he rarely has a use for, and then what? he lands. what's the point of flying and draining more energy if his feet are going to end up on the ground anyway? there's no need for him to fly. it's better for heart if he just saves himself the effort and stays grounded.

no, his wings are broken. battered and mangled things that ache at the slightest touch. he doesn't remember why they're broken, he just knows they're unfixable. he hasn't tried to, but he knows he can't. sometimes he looks out his window at the gray, cloudless sky and wonders if he'd be better if his wings were functional, if he could carry himself into the vast sky all by himself. it'd prove mind wrong, that's for sure...

i'm sure other people could write about this better than me HAHAHA but i still think about it....,,,,,,, maybe his wings are just too small and i'm going off for no reason, who knows

[lsunstreakerl]

wing!famiglia, 2k, GP POV. some things are different- but some things stay the same. (hi! I describe the accident in more vivid detail than I do in the original famiglia, because I'm writing from GP's POV.)

The rain is slamming down in harsh sheets, pasting Gianpiero's feathers down, and his heart is pounding as they pull over to the side of the road, sprinting towards the crash site.

There's cars strewn across the road, twisted metal scattered around them. His hands are shaking, trying to figure out where he needs to go first. There's so many, too many to handle at once, he needs to-

There's a rasping cry from a van, warbling and distressed. It's rolled over, resting on its a side, a mangled mess. Gianpiero runs over, cupping his hands around his eyes to try and see better in the dark, slamming to his knees to try and look inside.

There's bloody feathers coating the car, dark brown and maroon, and Gianpiero feels bile rise in his throat at the twisted bones rising from the man in front of him, shattered and pinched at unnatural angles.

There's a deep gash in his forehead, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, and his eyes are unfocused, one pupil larger than the other. He makes another desperate rasping noise.

His arms are curled around something, cradled tight to his chest, and Gianpiero's heart flips into an ugly pretzel when he hears a soft chirp.

"I'm here, I'm- I'm going to get you both out of here-"

The man lets out another wheezing cry, wet coughs rattling his chest, blood coating his teeth.

"My son..."

Gianpiero can't save him. He's not sure anyone could, but-

There's a fledgling in there.

He shuffles forward on his knees, reaching in through the shattered windshield, and the man drops his arms, head falling to the side with another wheeze.

There's a boy, one wing tucked tight around him, the other resting unnaturally to the side.

The man's fingers land in the boy's hair, weakly ruffling through it, but his eyes drag to meet Gianpiero's, piercing even in their final moments.

"My champion,"

He hacks again, and the fledgling flinches, curling tighter in on himself.

"My Max."

Gianpiero is going to be sick, can't bring himself to meet the eyes of a dying man as he carefully gathers the boy in his arms.

Max.

The fledgling cries out, hands darting forward to tangle in Gianpiero's shirt, and then he's latching to his chest, desperately chirping, pleading for reassurance.

He still has soft hatchling feathers, smeared red, and Gianpiero supports him with one hand, the other coming up to curl gently behind his head as he coos softly, backing away from the car.

His wings are heavy and waterlogged, but he strains his back lifting them anyways, wrapping around the fledgling to shut out the rain.

He doesn't look at the dying man again.

------

The fledgling's name is Max. He's 14, a falcon subspecies, and he's probably never going to fly.

His right wing is shattered, needs hours of corrective surgery that Gianpiero doesn't think twice about telling them to move forward on.

His blood type is A-, he's small for his age, and he's-

"...most likely imprinted on you, Mr. Lambiase. Fledglings at that stage, after a traumatic event, are going to look to the nearest adult to take care of them, and there is a very good chance he's picked you."

Gianpiero blinks at the social worker. First responders wear masks and helmets to avoid accidental imprinting, but Gianpiero hadn't-

He hadn't thought about it. Hadn't allowed himself to consider the idea that there was a fledgling- barely a fledgling, still with fuzzy little hatchling feathers- in that wreckage.

"I, uh,"

He pulls his wings tighter against his back. The warm blankets have helped to dry them back off, but he tries his best to be spatially aware of his surrounds- having a heron wingspan isn't always a helpful thing.

"I need to call my boss."

------

Max is 16, speaks softly, and doesn't fly. He's had more operations than Gianpiero likes to think about, but he won't even try, refuses to even visit common lift off areas.

Gianpiero wouldn't dream of pushing him- they utilize non-flight spaces as much as possible, and they live on a lower level accommodation, which was both cheaper and easier to access than where Gianpiero had been before.

Most people don't like being so close to the ground. GP doesn't mind- his subspecies means he likes to use his legs, and Max needs the accessibility.

He still works out his back and shoulders. Gianpiero has quietly wondered about it before, why Max chooses to train his flight muscles with no intention to ever use them, but he's never asked.

It's Max's business.

------

Max is 19, leaving Gianpiero's nest for his own place not too far away. There's a light brace fitted around his right wing, overlapping carbon fiber and intricate pulley systems to allow full supported range of motion.

He still doesn't fly.

He'll go up higher into buildings with Gianpiero now- they can frequently utilize skyways and platform spaces up in the sky, as long as Max doesn't get too close to the edge.

He's still Gianpiero's tiny little fledgling, and he still fits perfectly under his wings.

"Dad, you are a heron, I'm always going to fit under your wings."

"Exactly."

------

Max is dating a dove. A high profile, flirty, racing driver dove.

Gianpiero has never approved of anyone less in his life. He'd been a fan of the songbird from uni, now that had been a nice boy.

Apparently, Max and the dove- Charles- have history. Gianpiero doesn't care for him at all, and certainly not for the way he leaves feathers everywhere, bright white against the couch cushions.

------

Charles isn't terrible. He's grown on Gianpiero like a leech, and he's preformed the miracle of at least getting Max within a few meters of a lift-off range before he'd backed out.

It's more progress than anyone else has been able to make.

They've been dating for a few years now, growing into their twenties. Gianpiero sometimes looks at Max and sees a small bloody fledgling, has to bundle him in his arms and wings until tears no longer burn hot on his lash line.

Max tolerates it.

------

They're at a FIA event, all dressed up for hours of self-absorbed speech giving, something Gianpiero has learned to tune out while still looking like he's listening.

Max had taken a few years to catch on, but he's getting better at it, although he still looks annoyed if a camera ever lands on him.

They're mingling up on the aerial platform, and there's drinks flowing, which is a safety violation that's not usually an issue- but the F3 drivers are here tonight, so everyone is being responsible.

They're supposed to be, anyways.

Gianpiero has spotted more than a few young drivers with drinks they shouldn't have, and he's trying to keep an eye out, but there's so many of them- they're playing some ridiculous game of catch, small wings flapping around as they trip over their own feet.

Hugh pulls him into a conversation with a Ferrari engineer, and his attentions drifts.

It's fine.

It's fine until it's not, fine until there's a terrified screech, fine until he snaps his head around just in time to watch a fledgling fall over the edge, time slowing down.

The F3 drivers should be able to fly and glide short distances. They can't pull a recovery dive, not at this hight, not inebriated. Snapping out their wings- it would tear their muscles, snap their joints.

They need- Gianpiero unfreezes the same time as everyone else, darting to the edge- it's been three seconds, four seconds, they need an eagle or a vulture, six seconds, seven seconds, they need-

They need speed, need someone who can make up those seconds, they need-

A flurry of brown and blonde darts past him, arcs gracefully over the edge before wings tuck in, and the towers emergency lights flash on.

There's a small blur dropping fast.

Max is moving faster.

Gianpiero feels like he's going to throw up when the blurs collide, heart in his throat when Max doesn't immediately flare-

He's still diving, but he's extending his wings slowly, twisting into a arching upward curve, bringing himself to a speed manageable by species other than falcons, and he's curving back towards the tower.

Someone has corralled the other fledglings, and they're trying to clear a space for Max to land- a landing that will undoubtedly be messy, because he's never done it before.

Max finally flares closer to the tower, wings snapping out fully behind him, fledgling clutched tightly in his arms as he lands in a staggered run, crumpling to his knees on impact.

Gianpiero is at his side in an instant, hit with a wave of complicated emotions-

Max has his wings curled tightly around the F3 driver, cooing gently.

Gianpiero had done that once.

Someone has gotten the medical team, and they're making their way onto the upper deck as Max uncurls his wings- it doesn't escape Gianpiero's notice that his right side moves stiff and slow.

There's a flash of vibrant white in the corner of his eye, and then Charles is crouching next to them as well, cooing softly to coax the fledgling out of Max's arms.

It's careful work to disentangle them, but the fledgling finally works with them, moving over with the medical team.

Gianpiero wraps his arms around Max gingerly, wings curling over them both, giving Max the privacy to drop his head onto his shoulder.

"Max,"

Max makes a soft noise, and something hot and wet drops onto Gianpiero's skin.

"Hurts, dad."

"We'll fix it."

He'd worried, as soon as he'd seen Max flare his wings- he has anchors and stabilizers in the muscle and bone, but the speed of the dive, the force of the flare-

There's a chance the muscle is shredded.

Max buries his head further into Gianpiero's shoulder.

"It felt so nice, for a second."

Gianpiero tightens his wings, nudging the sides of their heads together.

"I'm sorry, Max."

Sorry that none of them had gotten off the platform sooner, sorry that Max had put the pieces together faster than the rest of them, done the math in his head, sorry that all the surgeries in the world will never fully repair his wing, sorry that he'll never experience flying the way he should-

He's sorry for all of it. If he could cut off his own wings, give his boy a chance, he would. He'd do it in a heartbeat.

He squeezes the back of Max's neck gently.

Max sniffs, sitting back up as Gianpiero slowly lowers his wings.

"Is Kimi okay?"

The F3 driver is tiny- Gianpiero had heard gossip about one of the junior drivers being a pygmy owl, and it must be this one- but he's standing on his own two feet, dutifully listening to the medical team.

"It looks like it."

Max's shoulders slump in relief, but his right wing stays hitched up behind him, trembling in place.

Gianpiero opens his mouth to say something about it, but a brilliant white wing extends underneath the curve of Max's sharply angled one, offering a rest.

He shares an appreciative glance with Charles, unspoken that in this they're on the same team.

They always are, when it comes to keeping Max safe.

Max laughs softly, looking at GP.

"Maybe if that German hospital had a songbird you could've not ended up baby trapped by imprinting."

Gianpiero narrows his eyes, feathers bristling.

"Don't say that. I could never regret you, Max. I wouldn't have wanted someone to pull you away- imprinting goes both ways."

Hadn't that been a surprise, the first time someone had offered to watch Max while Gianpiero went to a meeting and he'd puffed up, wings spread wide threateningly.

The first few years had been a learning process for them both.

He leans forward, knocking their heads together briefly.

He's so proud of his boy, all grown up and out of the nest, and he hasn't quite processed yet that Max had flown.

"But maybe no more jumping off buildings? I'm getting too old for you to be doing that to my heart."

Max grins weakly at him.

"I think the fledgling rescue thing just runs in the family."

It's not the worst family trait Gianpiero can think of.

"Maybe it does."