#Note to self: he needs scratches on his exposed metal face

[thedemonscrawler]

@dcafanzine

We've been given the go-ahead to share some teasers, so here's a tidbit of my piece for the upcoming Glitches and Glitterglue Fanzine!

Y'all there's so much cool art and stories in this thing it's hype!!!

[laylaplease]

anakin breeding kink anakin breeding kink anakin breeding kink I want TWINS with this man. please… elaborate on this kink with him… please…

Anakin x afab!reader | Smut | Minors DNI

Warnings — BREEDING (obv, duh), soft dom Anakin, bit ordering you around, DADDY KINK, praise, pet names, explicit mentions of body fluids (goes without saying), brief nipple play, brief biting, clit play...

Word count — 2813

Notes — It's almost 4AM as I am finishing this. I'm pretty sure I'm lacking some warnings, and my editing is probably off, but I really wanted to post today. Thanks to my lovely mutual for requesting this; I loved writing it, and I hope it will be a nice read, XO.

There were a thousand thoughts in your head, running in circles and screaming what a miserable human you are for not being able to fight your primal urges, and they were all replaced by imagines of Anakin’s hands gripping your hips and stuffing you full of his cum. You could almost feel it in you; you could feel it setting into your ovum and dripping down your thighs, taking over every last piece of your identity and self-awareness. Your body wanted it. It was demanding it.

"What's the stare, love?" Anakin raised his head from a book, catching your eyes from across the room. His raspy voice and intense stare instantly snapped you out of your trance.

"N-nothing." You managed to stutter while trying to find a spot in your bedroom to focus on instead of his face or exposed forearm peeking from his rolled-up sleeve. Fuck.

He's got you.

Anakin let out a soft sigh, followed by a laugh. He slowly put the book aside and uncrossed his legs, staring at you. "Come here." He gestured with a swift movement of his hand.

If it was any other moon phase, you would have put on a show. You would have thrown a snarky comment at him, mocked his authority over you, or just ignored his commands, but since your clothes were almost evaporating from his gaze, you did not refuse.

"You're listening." A bit surprised, he smiled widely after seeing you slide out of the sheets and walk towards him. "Good."

He leaned forward, grabbing your hips as you stood before him and looked up at you with a little hint of amusement in his eyes. "I can smell it on you." He nudged his nose into your abdomen and took a deep breath.

You were about to protest when he turned you around and seated you on his lap, making your back rest against his chest. He leanedand kissed your neck softly. "You're wet."

He forced your legs open by making them rest on his outer thighs and spreading himself, dragging your limbs together in the process.

"I'm- " He was right, and you hated it, but you couldn't disagree when you felt his hand slip under the waistline of your pants and slide over your panties, rubbing the very core with his middle and index fingers.

Anakin let out a deep chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart, you're not wet... You're soaking."

With his free hand, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, softly scratching you with his metal fingers. He pressed his lips onto your now exposed skin.

"I could just slide right into your little pussy and you wouldn't feel a stretch..." Anakin whispered against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers continued softly rubbing over your panties and you could feel your core pulsing with anticipation. You make an unfortunate attempt to shut your legs close when he brushes over a sensitive spot, which makes Anakin chuckle.

"I know, baby, it's aching, isn't it? It's aching for me." Anakin gave your clothed core a gentle slap, making you gasp softly. "Tell Daddy what you need."

"I n-need you to..." You keep stuttering when his palm keeps fondling your wet folds slowly. "...Fill me up..."

You blurt out like a dog in heat, unable to contain its urges. Before you could say something else, Anakin froze. His hand stopped moving, his lips parted with your skin, and the only active sensation you could feel is his warm breath on the back of your neck. "You...What?"

"I-I..." Your face flushed deep pink when you sober up from the fantasy of your womb swelling with his seed. The shame you feel after making such a lewd request is almost unbearable.

Anakin grabbed your hips and, with a sharp movement, turned you around to face him. "Say that again."

His hands gripped your sides harshly, pressing your cunt onto his growing dick, which only made you stumble over your words more. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. "I said, repeat yourself."

You stared into his orbs; his gaze is intense, demanding in silence and forcing words out of your mouth. "Fill me...up..."

That was all Anakin needed to hear. His lips pressed onto yours, wasting no time and pushing his tongue inside your mouth like a starved man. His spit smeared over your lips from how messily he was devouring you. You could feel a pair of hands roaming all over your body, gripping your thighs and butt, pulling you closer by the waist to grind his hardening cock onto your pussy.

"Is that what you desire?" He whispered in between kissing you. "Want me to breed you? Fill your pretty hole with my cum until you're leaking?"

"Yes, Ani..." You manage to breathe out. His tongue was good at so many things, his filthy mouth and your fantasies coming together was a bliss. Especially when his greedy hands gripped your curves so eagerly, ready to grant you all of your wishes.

Anakin lifted you up, carrying you back into the soft sheets. "My love, my beautiful girl..." He kept whispering into your ear while planting kisses all over your neck. As soon as your back pressed into the mattress, his hips bucked into yours, grinding his proud cock and earning an erotic moan from you.

His hands left your curves only to tear your pants down your legs, taking the messed panties together and throwing the mess of clothing across the room. "I'm going to breed that tight little cunt." He grunted while pushing his pants down and freeing his throbbing cock, which he instantly pressed onto your twitching clit.

"Look at that..." He slapped his length over your folds a few times, smearing your lewd wetness on himself. "I'll fucking ruin you..."

"A-Ani..."

Anakin wasn't going to take your shit today, not when he knew your womb was ready to host his seed. He leaned back on top of you and pressed his hand against your mouth.

"You are going to be a good girl and let daddy fuck a baby in you, is that clear?"

Did you want to be a brat about it? Yes. Could you? Well, with his body on top of you and with his dick an inch away from your slippery hole, promising to fulfill your fantasy... Not really. So you nod.

"That's my girl." Anakin pressed a tender kiss on your forehead. His hand moved from your mouth to your cheek, caressing it softly. "My perfect girl." Then he kissed you. Softly, not forcing himself onto you, allowing it to linger. An action completely opposite of his demeanor.

It wasn’t long before your blouse was being sent across the room, his pants following right after. You gripped onto Anakin’s robes, pulling onto them and exposing his chest. He pulls out his arms from the sleeves and snakes them around you once again, firmly caressing your hips and stomach, obviously thinking about how perfect your body is to bear his children.

You wrap your arms around his back, digging your fingers into toned flesh as he teases your entrance with his slick tip. There is a visible grin on his face. To ease your suffering at least a bit, you go for a kiss. Another messy wet kiss with teeth clashing against each other and tongues moving in a messy sync, that only made sense to him and you. When Anakin pulls his lips away, you can’t help but pant after realizing how much oxygen he’s stolen from you.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs more. Let Daddy in.” Anakin is panting too. His hands are trembling in anticipation after finally being this close to ravishing your body raw.

And when he asks like that, how can you deny him? Your legs wrapped around his hips, which brought you even closer to him. His presence made your head spin; you are holding onto him as if he were the anchor to your physical body, as if your soul would cease to exist if your fingers weren’t touching him so so feverishly. You were kerosene, and his touch — a flame.

Your eagerness only made Anakin more famished for your body. He kept grinding himself onto you while his teeth repeatedly grazed into your neck, making sure to mark you as his outside your body before imprinting himself in your insides. You hated the fact that he was still attempting to tease you, which, despite how annoyed you were, still made you overflow with wetness.

“Fuck, baby, need to be inside you…” Anakin groaned, and with that, you felt his length splitting your opening apart.

He entered you slowly, purposely delaying the full pleasure of feeling him at the deepest parts of you. His forehead slightly furrowed, eyes closed in delight from feeling your soft walls hugging him. He wasn’t just going to fuck you; he was going to feel every part of your tight bare cunt against his length for the first time and memorize it. His mind is clouded with thoughts about finally being able to raw you whenever he desires to, because after tonight you will surely be bearing his child.

“Ana-kin!” You let out a choked moan of a word you know the best, clinging to him, your starved body making it hard for him not to cum within seconds of hitting your cervix. If it were any other day, you’d probably be begging for him to ease it up.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He settled still deep inside you, kissing your neck and collarbones while caressing your skin tenderly, as if thanking you for letting him ruin the last bit of innocence you had left. Anakin remained in place for a few moments until he felt your walls greedily clench around him, asking to be bruised. Today, he wasn’t going to deny you.

It took all of his self-control to set a nice and firm pace instead of instantly pounding you to oblivion; he wanted to savor the special moment as long as possible. Once he set a satisfying speed, endless grunts started spilling from his mouth, which you answered with incoherent words. The intense ecstasy he was giving you stripped you of your ability to form logical sentences.

And it wasn’t just his thick cock that made your muscles spasm; it was also the way your name rolled off his parted lips, the way his firm hands groped your shivering body, and skin glistened with sweat. It was his whole presence, his entire existence, that made you break for him.

He slammed into you repeatedly, sending electricity all over your body. The room echoed with sounds of pleasure, which only made Anakin steadily increase his pace, making lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin more frequent. You have never felt so drenched in fluids; the mess between your bodies was smearing all over your lower abdomen, sticking his flesh to yours like vile viscous glue.

“That’s it.” Anakin grunted when he filled you to the brim once more. “You’re. Taking. Me. So. Well.” Each word was separated by him pounding into you harder and harder. This was a point of no return.

Your quivering body was now answering all of his actions on its own. Your back kept arching, hardened nipples brushed against his chest with each flex of your spine. Anakin watched your breasts bounce in awe before grabbing your sensitive bud between his prosthetic fingers and pinching it softly.

“You are made to bear my children.” He started kneading your soft flesh; thoughts of your body adjusting to nurture his babies scrambled his brain, making it more difficult not to fill your cunt. “You’ll swell and stretch for my seed; you’ll bless me with many sons and daughters, and I will worship every square inch of your exhausted body.”

If you had any doubts about making Anakin a father, they were gone the second his words of desire reached your ears. You nodded your head frantically, unable to verbally answer him, unable to tell him how much your womb craved to carry his child.

“I’ll plant it in you. Or maybe two; do you think you can give me two at once, my love?” He whispered through his ragged breaths. “It’s okay if you can't; I’ll just fuck another one into you again.”

“P-please…!” You weren’t even sure what exactly you were pleading for. In fact, you couldn’t just beg for one thing. You wanted to come. You wanted him to go faster, to thrust harder, you wanted him to kiss you, and most importantly, you wanted his cum deep inside of you. You wanted him to coat your insides in white, make it spill out of you, you needed him in a primal and animalistic way. The same way he needed you.

In different circumstances, Anakin would have pulled out and made you beg for him to continue, beg for him to let you release, but this was a special night and he was going to fulfill your wishes. His hips moved rhythmically, digging into your sore body, hands grasped any parts of you he could reach. The more he was giving you, the more your legs trembled. Your cunt was tightening around his cock, signaling him about the upcoming wave.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” You nodded eagerly at his words, attempting to mumble more pleas but failing miserably. “Good girl, baby, cum all over daddy’s cock. That’s it.”

He reached down between your bodies, pressing two fingers over your swollen clit. He looked you in the eyes proudly, knowing this position allowed you to see how your dripping pussy swallowed his dick fully with each sharp thrust. His fingers rubbed you slowly, making sure to apply just enough amount of pressure to send you to cloud nine.

So close, you were so close. Seeing Anakin like that, trying to hold himself over you with one arm as his whole body was focusing only on your pleasure, it made you crave impossibly more of him. “Cum, baby girl, cum for me now.” He leaned and whispered while pressing his lips all over your face tenderly, making sure that, in between the storm of lust and passion, you knew that he loved you more than anything else in the galaxy.

And that was all it took. His pleading permission for you to let yourself go, affection and desire for you, his body abusing itself to please you... You couldn’t hold it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smashing your lips against his. The kiss was full of moans and whimpers, and he ate it all up like his last diner. Your walls spasmed tightly around him, vision darkened as your eyes rolled at the back of your skull. He kept pounding himself into you until the ultimate pleasure was sent across your body like thunder, making you quiver with a moan of his name.

“My love, my beautiful love..." Anakin whimpered after your juices of passion covered his entire cock. It was nearly impossible for him not to follow right away.

And there was no point in holding himself back anymore; he moved his hand off your clit, wrapping his arms around your body, and with a last sharp roll of his hips, you were filled with his warm seed. Your whole body was shaking from the feeling of hot cream settling inside of you, marking you as Anakin’s, devouring your whole body. He kept cumming as if he'd been holding himself for months, and you made an effort to clench your muscles to milk him as much as you could. Anakin’s body collapsed on top of you, his cock still entirely inside, basking in a sloppy mess of your love-making.

“I love you. I love you more than life itself.” He clinged on top of you, mixing your bodies entirely, skin to skin, sweat to sweat, heart to heart. He was entirely yours, and you were entirely his.

Anakin raised his head slightly, and in fear of his absence, your limp body found strength to hold onto him. “Stay. Right here, stay.” You pleaded with your eyes and voice, still gasping for air.

He carefully reached to stroke your cheek, making sure to not separate from your body. His fingers started tracing the supple skin lovingly. For a moment, he just stared into your eyes, trying to regain his strength to speak. “The gift you’ll give me, I’ll forever be grateful for.” His hand left your cheek and found a place on your hip, rubbing it with his thumb softly as if expecting a crumble of joy that will soon start growing inside of your womb to know about his presence before it even exists.

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

[the-marvelclub]

Don’t forget me

steve rogers x reader

Summary: Steve and reader are happily married, so what happens when a mission goes wrong and Steve is pronounced dead? And what if he comes back but she’s already in a relationship?

Warnings: Fluff, a lot of angst, main character death (?) but with a happy ending.

masterlist

Author’s note: Happy because i finished this in just a few hours, hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated.

Little caresses of soft fingers running up and down your bare back made you shiver, waking you up, your eyes flutter open.

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. Steve's chuckle echoed throughout the room before you felt wet kisses being spread all over your lower back, slowly making their way up to your shoulders. Fingers moving your hair to one side exposing your right ear. 

"Good morning, Dollface" he whispered in your ear in his husky voice, which honestly always sounds like that when he just woke up, and he bit your ear lobe making butterflies erupt in your stomach and making you a little giddy.  

You had spent the night in Steve's room, the light soft reddish color coming through the windows and painting the white walls of Steve's room making you aware that it was probably just dawn, the atmosphere was calm and familiar and his bed was certainly a thousand times more comfortable than yours could ever be. 

"Good god, Steve. I bet you it's not even 6:00am" you mumbled sleepily, he might be a super soldier but you needed your 9 hours of sleep. Steve let out a chuckle in your ear again, bringing shivers all over your body. 

"You really look cute when you're half asleep like that" he replied still talking into your ear, running his soft hand all over your back only to then grab your waist, letting his arm rest there. "I want to marry you." 

You smiled before turning your body to be face to face with Steve knowing he wouldn't let you sleep anymore, you pulled the white silk sheet in your best effort to cover your body looking up at him. He was leaning on his left elbow, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, his torso was naked, the sheets on his hips.

"But I already said ‘I do’, baby" you smiled showing him the ring on your left hand and remembering your wedding day. You had been best friends for what seemed like forever before a mission which required you to pretend to be married led to you both confessing your feelings, then you had realized it had all been a plan by the others to finally get you to admit what they had already known for quite some time, that the mission never really required you to go as a couple, but you couldn't be mad at them, quite the opposite, you felt a deep gratitude towards them, because you would never have been able to do it on your own. A year later, Steve had taken you to the roof of the Compound where you could see the distant lights of the skyscrapers of New York, where he had prepared you a dinner with your favorite meals and a bottle of wine and had gotten down on one knee, opening the little red velvet box with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, he really was a 40s man, full of romance and chivalry.  Six months later you were married.

"Right, but I'm talking about a vow renewal, I just can't believe you're mine, you're like a dream" he let out, the pink painting his cheeks matching yours.  His dirty blonde hair was a mess and his eyes sparkled with pure adoration.  

"You really are full of compliments today, huh?" you smiled bringing your hand to his hair and giving it a little squeeze. You loved this Steve, he had always been romantic and protective of you, but this Steve, the one you only knew in the early morning hours was driving you crazy, the sentimental Steve, full of compliments and caresses and without shirt on. The Steve who could look into your soul with just one look and that lazy smile. The one only you knew. 

"Stop complaining, you know you love it" he said smiling mischievously, like a little boy.  

"I can't complain" you shrugged, sliding your fingers down his hard chest, imagining how good it would look with a couple of tattoos on it. You bit your lip thinking about it before returning your gaze to him, who already had his eyes on you, his eyes glowing, fingers at your waist squeezing. Before you could register what was happening, he had lunged towards you pressing his lips hard against yours, you sighed as you felt his lips sucking on yours and grabbed his cheeks pulling him closer to you, his hands taking your waist and lifting you up to get you on top of him, he bit your bottom lip asking for entrance but you put both hands on his chest putting distance between the two of you, ending the kiss and shaking your head. You still hadn't brushed your teeth. 

He grunted with discontent and pouted, completely adorable, but kept his arms around your waist. You stroked his hair and he closed his eyes, sighing. 

"I really love you" he let out, looking into your eyes, with an expression you couldn't read, he suddenly looked worried and even a little scared. "I would do anything to protect you, you know that right?". 

You frowned. 

"What is this all about?" you asked leaning your face on his chest looking into his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

He shook his head before giving you a small smile, wanting you to forget the subject. 

"It's the mission, isn't it?" you sighed.

He looked at you for a long moment and you knew the answer. 

Steve along with Fury had been tracking a dangerous organization for months that for some reason were targeting Steve. They both believed it wasn't that big of a threat. They had only sent Steve a couple of death threats, but being Captain America and part of the Avengers, there were always enemies. But when one afternoon, a threat had come to you, Steve got to work and he and Fury had been tracking the origin of these for months and now they finally had a lead.  

"It's probably nothing," he said, "don't worry about it, Fury will go with me on this one. Maybe the lead will be useless." You knew he didn't want to worry you but you couldn't help it, you wanted to go with him this afternoon but you as well as everyone else had other missions to attend to. 

You nodded and kissed his chin reassuringly. 

He placed a kiss on your forehead and released you by turning you to your side of the bed, before getting out of bed, putting on his sweatpants and putting on his white shirt. 

It was your turn to pout, missing his warm body. 

"Come on, Dollface." He said placing his palms on the mattress and leaning over to you "I'll make you those chocolate chip pancakes and when I get back from the mission we're going to watch that Jason Bourne movie you love so much."

You let out an excited squeal and hugged him by the neck pulling him back into bed.  

"You sure know how to spoil a girl."

_

Steve never returned from that mission.

That afternoon you were in the kitchen preparing popcorn for movie night with Steve and the next minute, Fury had come out of the elevator doors, concern filling his face and honestly it was the most you had ever seen him show any emotion, he had quietly approached Tony, ignoring the greetings of the team that was hanging out in the living room, he had taken him to the briefing room and they had been inside for quite a while. You had been watching the elevator doors waiting for Steve to come out of them before deciding to ask Fury, but before you could even take a step, Tony had left the room and the moment you looked at his face, your stomach sank, a horrible feeling surrounding you. You had never seen Tony like that before, the look in his eyes was something you would never be able to describe, he was pale, his eyes seemed sunken and he kept looking nowhere in particular. A few moments later that seemed like hours, he had uttered the words that broke you inside.

Steve hadn't made it.

You don't remember much after that, all you remember is popcorn strewn all over the kitchen floor, a deafening scream that you never realized you had let out, and the pain in your knees as you fell to the floor. You remember screams coming from the others, asking Tony and Fury for explanations and a lot of commotion. But what you could never forget even if you wanted to was the pain of your heart being squeezed inside you and the horrible feeling that now everything would be different.

That had been 1 year and 6 months ago. Since the news everything had been a blur. It was as if you were seeing everything from outside your body. The first few days, you didn't leave the living room couch, your gaze focused on the metal doors of that gray elevator, you didn't eat, you didn't sleep, waiting for Steve to show up with his suit dirty from the mission and the shield in his hand, telling you that it had taken a little longer than usual but that everything had gone well, that he had nothing but a few scratches on his body and that he would take a shower before cuddling up with you in bed.

The day you understood that Steve would never walk out those doors, you couldn't help but be angry at him for leaving you alone that morning after breakfast and not asking for help from the team, but more than anything you were angry at yourself for not doing anything about it. You thought it was a routine mission, just to confirm that the clue was legit. You never gave the subject much thought. You couldn't believe you had been so naive and you knew it was your fault.

The next few months after that you and the team as well as Fury had been immersed in the case, trying to track down the organization and the man responsible for Steve's death. Thousands of leads were emerging every day but they all led to a dead end. The team wasn't much better, everyone blamed each other for Steve's death but you knew it all affected Tony the most. Natasha and Wanda were there for you but Bucky was the one who were constantly with you during the first few months, supporting you and looking out for you. But you could see he was hurting too, Bucky had gone back to his old self, he was withdrawing from everyone, except you. Barely making conversation with the others and most of the time going out without telling you where he was going. You wanted to ask him about it but you knew he needed time. Hell, you needed it too. A year and a half later it seemed like everything was back to normal, even though you knew that inside you were all different people. Losing family wasn’t easy.

Thank God you had Matthew, an agent who worked at the coumpound, he had been in charge of the funeral and since then, he always made sure you were okay, at first it was small talk in the hallways, telling you how sorry he was and asking you how you were feeling, then it was little gifts, he always brought you coffee and gave you a smile when he saw you filling out reports in the briefing room, before you knew it he had become a great friend. His blue eyes and the way he treated you reminded you of Steve, and you knew you were drawn to that sense of familiarity and comfort. Then at that party, he had kissed you and although his kisses were nothing compared to Steve's, you accepted a date with him when he asked you the next day.

"Are you okay? You look distracted" Wanda's thick accent brought you out of your thoughts, you turned to look at her and her eyes were looking at you with concern.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." You replied avoiding her questioning eyes, taking your necklace between your hand squeezing it. The wedding ring now taking its place on this one and not on your finger. Everyone was in the kitchen; you were sitting at the table peeling an orange and Wanda was next to you. Natasha was next to Bruce making himself a sandwich while Tony was complaining about the coffee grounds they had toss out in the sink, you let out a small chuckle, you knew it had been Sam who was sitting there reading a magazine completely ignoring Tony. Clint was spending the weekend with his family and Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

"I know this may be a difficult day for you" Wanda murmured moving closer to you, making sure no one else could hear. "We completed the mission. We arrested the bastard who..." she sighed "I know that maybe you thought this would bring you relief. But everything gets better with time, believe me I know." She had promised never to read your mind and you knew she had not. You smiled at her, you loved the fact that she knew you so well that she didn't have to use her powers to know what you were thinking.

2 days ago, the mission had been completed, they had found the person responsible for Steve's death and had dismantled the organization, surprised to find that they had some infiltrators right there working in the Compound, people you looked at every day, people who had seen you suffer and they were responsible all this time. You pushed those thoughts out of your mind quickly as you felt rage growing inside you again. You sighed deeply and remembered that Fury was taking care of it. Everything would be okay now.

"So how are things going with Matt?" Natasha asked approaching the table as she munched on her sandwich. Before you could answer, Fury appeared through the kitchen door. You frowned. It was unusual to have a visit from him at this hours of the night.

"Briefing room. Now," was all he said before turning and walking out of the kitchen. The whole team was surprised but followed him without a word. Entering the briefing room, you leaned against the wall in one of the corners waiting for Fury to speak.

"Two years ago we became aware of an existing threat that was harming one of our team. We mistakenly thought it was something minor, it wasn't until a year and a half ago that we discovered it was all part of something bigger and more dangerous. Something highly sensitive that if not handled correctly could harm us and the nation by exposing secrets of our operations."

"We already know that..." Tony began speaking, with one hand on his head, looking exhausted.

"Maria and I came up with a plan that we would put into action once we got the first lead" he interrupted, ignoring Tony's comment. "If we made them believe that they had achieved their goal, we would have an ace up our sleeve when it came to dismantling their organization, which we have done successfully, thanks to the help of this person..." he sighed and looked at the floor "I ask you to please try to understand."

I frowned, just as confused as the whole team.

"What are you talking about, sir?" You let out and he turned to look at you, sighing once more before shaking his head pointing towards the door.

"Hello, Dollface."

Everything happened in slow motion, the room filled with a deafening silence, you turned towards the door directing your gaze to the source of the voice. And if it wasn't for those blue eyes that wouldn't take their eyes off you, You knew you'd pass out right there.

Steve.

He was standing in the doorframe. And he looked different; his hair was longer, his beard covered half of his face and he looked 10 years older, he had dark circles around his eyes as if he hadn't slept since that morning when he had woken up next to you kissing your body. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and Bucky was standing next to him.

Realization fell over you and you felt your stomach sunk. Tears stung your eyes and you couldn't breathe. You walked slowly towards him, not trusting your own legs and planted yourself in front of him, he was like the ghost of the old Steve, only this one was rough around the edges, his eyes looked at you with adoration but also regret. Before he could say a word, you slapped him.

The sound of hand against cheek echoed across the room. Steve didn't seem surprised. Suddenly the whole room was filled with commotion, everyone started talking at the same time, but you couldn't take it anymore, you felt that at any moment you would fall to the floor. So you just walked out of there, but not without giving Bucky a death glare. The bastard knew it all along.

You ran to your room, ignoring the calls of Steve running after you and the commotion of the place. You locked the door to your room and locked yourself in the bathroom, where you couldn't hear Steve knocking on your door over and over again. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you were a mess, the tears wouldn't stop falling even though you didn't feel them and your face was pale, with trembling hands you ripped off the necklace with the ring and threw it on the floor before sitting down on the floor and started crying.

_

It had been a week since Steve had returned, a week that you had been avoiding him, against your better judgment you had gone to Matt's apartment where he had offered you a place to stay, the coumpound being the last place you wanted to be. You felt your body move and perform the simplest of tasks like washing the dishes, folding your clothes or even watching a movie but your mind just wasn't there, you were like a zombie, and it was already starting to affect your relationship with Matt, you knew it wasn't fair to him but you couldn't care in the slightest, not for now. You hated to admit it but you missed Steve, you missed his voice, his laugh, the way he looked at you, his kisses, his touches. And knowing he was so close to you was driving you crazy. But he had betrayed you. He knew it, he knew it all that time and he didn't tell you, he didn't dare to tell you that morning when it was just you and him. He had let you suffer for a year and a half. To hell with the plan, he had broken your heart. The next morning after he came, you had sneaked into Natasha's room and left the necklace with the wedding ring for her to give back to Steve, she tried to talk some sense into you but you had already made up your mind, after that you had left with Matt.

"I like this part, it's when she realizes the alien is with her on the ship" you heard Matt's voice speak, you two were watching a stupid sci-fi movie, your gaze on the screen but you weren't paying attention to it, your mind wandering elsewhere.

"Mmmh."

"And then she befriends the alien."

"Uh-huh."

"And then they move in together and play badminton on Sundays."

"Interesting."

"That's it" he said letting out a sigh before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You're not even listening”.

Guilt wash all over you.

"Sorry, I was just a little distracted that's all." you said quickly.

He turned to look at you and gave you a smile but it didn't reach his blue eyes, which now that you took a good look at him were nothing like Steve's at all. "This isn't going to work, is it?" he finally asked but you knew he already knew the answer.

You sighed and shook your head slowly. He was a sweet boy and deserved better.

"I'm sorry" you said "I don't want you to think I'm just using you to get over Steve, I really like you, it's just... things are really complicated in my life right now" you finally admitted.

"I know" he said wiping away a tear you didn't know had escaped. "I knew from the moment I heard he was back. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now" he murmured.

You gave him a weak smile "I know I haven't been fair to you the last few days and I'm sorry, I know you deserve someone better, a woman who is completely crazy about you, and who will be because you are kind, thoughtful and deserve better than someone who is broken."

"You're not broken," He assure you. "I just think you really miss him and need him, and I'll let you in on a secret...he does too."

"Thank you, Matt." you said before getting up from the couch and grabbing the few things you had brought with you before heading for the door.

"I know this job demands a lot from us but there is nothing you two can't overcome, you are Steve and Y/n after all" he spoke behind you "just give him a chance to explain himself, you both deserve it."

You turned and gave him a small smile before walking out the door.

_

Steve was sitting at the bar, drinking his whiskey even though he knew he couldn't get drunk no matter how much he wanted to. He was twirling your wedding ring between his fingers. Ever since Natasha had given it to him he hadn't been able to take his eyes off it. Everything had gotten out of control. He took one more sip, savoring the burning sensation in his throat when he did, a hand patted his shoulder and he watched as Bucky sat down beside him.

"You're missing the party," he said sipping from his beer.

"Did you know that she's been staying at Matt's apartment these few days?" he blurted out completely ignoring his friend's earlier comment.

Bucky sighed, not quite knowing what to say.

"I remember Matt, I used to train him when he was first recruited, a good guy" he muttered "He can give her the life she deserves".

"Come on dude" bucky snorted "they've been dating for a month, it's not like they're getting married".

"It's not like she can't" Steve said "I'm sure she'll be sending me the divorce papers any minute now".

Bucky gasped.

"Impossible, she's crazy about you." He said continually shaking his head.

"I messed it up with her, Buck" he said finishing his drink before getting up and heading to his room, he was in no mood to party.

He had messed up, that morning he just thought it would be a simple mission and that he would be back that afternoon but then the lead had turned out to be more important than they had thought. Fury had told him the plan but there was no time to think about the pros and cons, they were up against the clock. So decisions were made and as much as it pained him he knew that was the only way to keep her safe, because they would come for her, of that he had no doubt. And he would do anything to protect her. Anything.

_

You could hear the faint sound of music coming from downstairs, the party was in progress as you walked down the empty hallways leading to the bedrooms, relieved that everyone was at the party and didn't see you coming. Matt’s words surrounding your thoughts, maybe what you needed was to hear it from Steve before you could move on with your life. You didn't realize that you had unconsciously made your way to Steve's room until you opened the door and looked inside, the room that for a year had been empty was now occupied by his things. With trembling hands you closed the door behind you and looked at his things, a shirt was on the bed and you couldn't help but pick it up and smell it. God, you had missed him so much.

Tears began to flood your eyes again but you were sick of crying so you left the shirt where it was and sat on the big bed, memories about that morning before he left filling your mind.

"I would do anything to protect you, you know that right?". 

You shook your head at the memory, pushing those thoughts out of your head and placed your head in your hands.

You heard the door to the room being open and you cursed under your breath. You knew you had to face him but you didn't think it would be so soon, he was supposed to be at the party, his party.

You quickly raised your head and watched him walk in, he was wearing a completely black suit, his long hair was perfectly combed back and he still had that beard, he looked like a dream, butterflies erupting in your stomach and you had to take all your willpower not to jump him. There was a lot to talk about.

He had his eyes on the floor but when he looked at you an expression of surprise covered his face. This was the last place he thought you would be. He called your name in surprise and you quickly got out of bed.

"Sneaking out of the party?" you let out a nervous laugh at his intense stare, he hadn't moved a muscle "Come on, Steve. You know that’s not nice."

Several seconds passed and he didn't speak, maybe this was a bad idea, coming to his room was a bad idea. You turned to grab your bag off the bed and get out of there when his voice spoke behind you.

"Can I hold you?" he blurted out, startling you. You turned to look at him, he had his hands shoved in his pockets and looked shy, as if he was sure you would tell him no.

Your heart skipped a beat and you nodded your head slowly. There was a lot to talk about but you missed him more than anything in the world and you needed him. Without you having to repeat it to him, he took long strides to where you were and took you in his arms, pressing you against him, burying his head in your neck and inhaling your scent, making you shiver. You slipped your arms around his neck and shoulders and held on to him, he smelled just like you remember, of his favorite cologne and mint, and now a little whiskey too. You felt tears fill your eyes and you squeeze them shut to keep them from coming out. It felt almost unreal, while he was gone you had dreamed a thousand times of holding him in your arms, you didn't think you would ever be able to feel him again, to hear his jokes, his laughter and the way your name came from his lips. It was all too much.

Just as quickly as he had walked towards you and hugged you, he broke away from you and walked to lean against the wooden door he had entered through, too far away from you for your liking, his gaze fixed on the floor and his hands in his pockets. "I need to say this, and I can't do it if you're too close to me," he let out in a hurried voice and continued, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused you during the time I was away, that morning I didn't know things would end up so badly, but it was worse than we thought and everyone was in danger...you were in danger. And I couldn't let them harm you because of me. There wasn't enough time to think of a better plan than the one Fury had come up with. I promised myself I would tell you I was safe but we realized there were infiltrators here in the building, I knew they would be watching your every move, I would put you in danger if I told you. So I told Bucky to look out for you. I know that it doesn't justify what I put you through but I needed you to know." He sigh closing my eyes. "I understand if you hate me, I know I ruined us and Matt is a great guy, I always knew you deserved someone who didn't have such a complicated life or put you at constant risk but please, I just want you to know... not only am I deeply in love with you, you are my best friend."

You couldn't breathe and you were aware that you were crying again, so without thinking twice, you advanced with a determined step towards him and when he looked up, you took his face with your hands wiping his tears away and planted a kiss, pushing your body to his, you took him by surprise but it only took a second for him to grab you by the hair and get you closer to his mouth. You had missed him so much, and yet it was as if you still knew his lips by heart and he knew yours, both matching perfectly. You let out a small groan as he lowered his hands to your waist and grabbed one of your thighs indicating you to jump, turning you around pushing you to the door, the new angle allowing you to kiss him better since he was much taller than you. After a few seconds you broke away to take a breath of air. You leaned your head back against the door running your fingers through his beard, taking your time to memorize him, he was the same yet so different but you definitely liked it.

"Stop looking at me like that, you're making me weak" he mumble hiding his face in your neck, his beard scratching your bare skin making you shiver and let out a giggle.

"I really like this beard, please don't ever shave it off". You sighed as he gave you little kisses on your neck, tickling you.

"Mmmh."

He planted one last kiss on your neck before you brought your legs to the floor again.

"I think you have something that belongs to me" you whispered as you reached into the small pocket of the black shirt; the small wedding ring. You had felt it when you were kissing him. You took it and placed it back on your finger. Steve looked at you confused but at the same time a full smile appeared on his face. You pressed your forehead to his and placed your hands on his chest.

"Don't leave me like that again, you scared me." You whispered to him.

"I promise I won't, Dollface" he whispered back. You knew there was still a lot to talk about but what you were completely sure of was that Steve Rogers never breaks a promise.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Weakest Link: Geto Suguru x F!Reader

synopsis: insecurity and doubt creeps into you in your first month as a jujutsu tech student, but somehow, Geto always seems to make you feel better

tw: sexual undertones.

words: 1,730

Excited conversation and sounds of merriment drift from under the other sorcerer’s doorways at Jujutsu Tech, but you stumble back to your room with nothing but the thought of a warm shower and hours of rest. Ache screams in your bones and joints, rolling down from your spine and settling into the base of your bruised tailbone. 

It had been a month since you followed Suguru Geto down the dark alley and into a fight that left you speechless, more or less. Despite knowing all of this, you found yourself in Tokyo, looking up at the massive building in awe. He urged you to join the ranks, but you knew that fighting wasn’t your thing. It was obviously his thing and other people’s thing. But not yours. 

Little red welts reminded you of that as you stripped down to your underthings, careful not to bump or touch any sore spots until you could reach the shower’s warm embrace. Geto had reassured you that every sorcerer went through training - every one of them had been broken for a good reason. 

“It’s not for humanity’s sake,” he had mumbled through a rice cake. “It’s for our sake. We’re a family, and we are only as strong as the weakest link.” 

It was a jab at your failure to procure any meaningful progress, but you pray that your breaking point is near, for your sake and Geto’s sake. The knob proves to be just as challenging to turn hot, and the feeling of failure washes over you with the freezing cold water from above. You can’t even turn a shower knob; how could you exorcise demons? 

A strangled gasp escapes your lips as you sink to the shower floor in defeat. Giving up and going home seems like the best option. At least among your family and friends, you weren’t weak; you were just as strong - if not, more robust - than them. But here, you’re only as good as the humans that were outside of Jujutsu Tech. Which isn’t good enough. 

After pressing your back against the cool tile, you feel the breeze of the A/C kick on and give you goosebumps. Whoever thought to put an air conditioner in the bathroom must have been an idiot, you muse, and give the knob one more effort, one more attempt to make the water hot. 

“Ah!” 

The knob gives with ease, turning the freezing shower into boiling lava. Your midsection takes the brunt of the heat as you hiss in pain, attempting to reach the knob again without more of your body being exposed to the stinging water. Once the temperature settles, you relax into the warmth and steam, sighing with contentment. You lather with lavender and vanilla soap, tenderly going through the motions of washing yourself and your face while the tender caress of the cotton cloth between your hands eases your aches. If only there was someone who could help you with the tension in your back… 

Your mind flicks to a man’s hands for a moment, thinking of them trailing down your spine and pressing against your lower back methodically… thumbs pressing against the space between your neck and your shoulders with care. The phantom hands then wrap around your neck, tracing your vocal cords, soothing the raw and swollen lymph nodes before drifting over your shoulders and down your chest. 

A slight moan escapes your lips at the thought of your body being catered to while the warm shower continues, lips pressing against your ear lobe and whispering something reassuring and comforting. 

“Y/n… do you think about me when you’re alone?” The sound of Geto’s voice in your mind startles you back to the present moment, and instantly, you turn the water to a much colder flow. The cold snap helps you cool down, and the heat between your legs died down just as quickly as it began. When you finish, the towel you wrap around your body provides a comforting distraction to the thought of someone else touching you, smoothing their rough palms against your wet skin, breathing sweetly into your ear… 

Stress. It’s the stress, you reason. It’s why you’re lusting after someone you don’t really know; someone who sees you as a friend and an ally. That’s all. 

You push any and all thoughts of Geto out of your mind as you towel off and shrug on a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. With determination, you snatch up your mala beads and sit on your full-size bed, preparing to meditate. As your fingers roam over the beads, a gentle peace settles into your mind, leaving you with only one thought: Strength comes from within.

The mantra repeats itself with each bead that slides through your thumb and index finger until all you can focus on is the clicking noises and the occasional chatter of birds outside your window. 

Strength comes from within. 

You would endure, you decide. It’s not a case of discomfort or physical pain. It’s a matter of willingness and fortitude to continue down a path you set for yourself no matter the cost. 

Strength comes from within. Strength comes from within. Strength comes fr--

A whisper-soft knock at your door breaks your trance. With hesitation, you slide off of the bed and wrap your beads around your left hand, sliding the door open without checking who stood there first. 

Strength comes… from… where, again?

The raven-haired sorcerer who set you on the meditative path in the first place stands in front of you, leaning his prominent figure on the doorframe. At the sight of you without your uniform on and mala beads wrapped around your hand, Suguru steps back a little, running his black eyes across your figure once before tilting his head. 

“Was I interrupting something, y/n?”

“No,” you respond quickly, noting his casual attire as well. “What’s up?”

“I texted you about dinner,” Geto straightens up, and you realize that the whole time you mourned about your lack of strength, you had neglected to even think about your stomach. As if it had been summoned, your stomach growls angrily like the third person in the room. Geto chuckles a little at the sound, his broad shoulders shaking under his shirt. “Sounds like you need something to eat.” 

“Give me a second.” You shut the door and turn to find something more appropriate to throw on. As you changed into a pair of jeans and a less ill-fitting shirt, your mind fluttered to the idea of Geto bursting in and seeing you half-naked and-- 

“Stop it, stop it.” You hiss to yourself, jumping a little to button your pants. Despite feeling the familiar blooming of a crush in your mind, you set it aside to be dealt with later. This was not the time nor the place to have unrequited crushes; you had a purpose for being here, and it wasn’t to cozy up to someone who considered you to be family. 

“Hey,” Suguru calls through the door, his voice making your stomach jump a little. You were taking too long.“Gojo and Shoko are coming too.” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Your fingers are stuck in the mess you call “hair,” and the curls latch onto your fingers like snakes as you try to tame them. Against your better judgment, you had let your hair air dry, and now you were paying the price for not even running a brush through it. “Shit!”

“Are you… alright in there?” 

“Jus-just a minute!” A moment of panic sets in as you attempt to control the frizz, but the curls defy your orders, only popping up again after you press them down against your scalp. No amount of bobby pins or gel could fix this. Your comb clatters to the ground along with the various-sized bobby pins, and as you stoop to hurriedly clean up the mess you made, you hear the door slide open. “Not yet, I--” 

Through your thick mane, you can see Suguru’s feet shuffle into your line of sight. You push your hair back to observe his confused then understanding look, and he crouches down to help you, attempting to pick up the smaller bobby pins with his massive hands. It seemed impossible, but he picked up the little and the bigger ones with ease, depositing them back onto the porcelain counter with care. 

“You should’ve asked for help, y/n,” Suguru murmurs, standing and holding his left hand out for the comb. You timidly place it into his hand and let him step behind you to gather the ends of your hair in his right hand. “It’s grown quite a bit.” 

“You noticed.” The thought that he’s noticed your hair growing out from its short length to about mid-shoulder surprises you, and he looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, smirking. 

“I notice a lot of things.” He doesn’t explain this statement, instead choosing to focus on combing your ends out before getting to the top of your head, gradually increasing his strokes down your scalp. “Do you want to put pins in your hair?” You answer the question by holding out two small bobby pins, and he places both between his teeth before pinning the left side of your hair down to your scalp. The other one tucks your bangs behind your right ear, and you marvel at the care he takes with his movements, careful not to scratch your scalp with the metal. “There.” 

When Suguru finishes, he rests his hands on your tiny shoulders, waiting for you to approve of his work. 

“Thank you for helping me.” 

“You need to start asking for help during training. I’ve watched you struggle for a few weeks like you were struggling just now. It couldn’t hurt to ask the others for some assistance every now and then.” His words made you stiffen, and one of his eyebrows raised as if he was challenging you to tell him he was wrong. 

“Well, I just--” 

“I know what I said about the weakest link made you self-conscious. But you missed the point; all of us are linked. We can’t help you if you insist on doing this alone, got it?” You nod twice, feeling the insecurity and doubt whistle out of your body with each exhale.

“Got it.” 

“Now, I’m absolutely starving, and I know you are. Let’s go.” 

[beelsjuicytitties]

Hunted for Sport

Now to do a complete 180 from my Mammon fic, here is predator/prey Lucifer! this is suuuuuper self indulgent bc i was looking for stuff to read, but nothing was really scratchin the itch yknow? so i wrote this at like 5am

Warnings: NSFW, DUB-CON

Pairing: Lucifer x GN!MC

Words: 2339

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Dubious Consent, Implied Consent, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aftercare, Primal, Predator/Prey, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, S&M, Injury, Fear Play, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Biting, Kissing, Dark, Rough Sex, Not Beta Read, Sleepy Cuddles, Bubble Bath, Edgeplay, Smut, Possessive Sex

Summary: Please make sure to read the tags before reading! Hunted and fucked in the forest by Lucifer, followed by fluffy aftercare because he has class

Note: Like my last one, this is also on my ao3 which is linked in my bio!

  Fear. It was all you could feel as you ran through the forest outside the House of Lamentation. Your chest heaved and your lungs were already starting to burn. ‘How long has it been?’ You managed to think, had it been hours? Or merely minutes? The pain in your ankle pulled you from your thoughts as you crashed to the ground. You curled into yourself as coughs wracked your body, the wind having been knocked out. Your ankle throbbed and you could feel dull stinging from almost every inch of exposed skin, scratches from the foliage marring your skin. 

  That's when you heard him. His sonorous voice filled your ears as he sang, your brain too foggy to make out the words. The sound grew as his almost casual steps grew closer. ‘Gotta run, gotta escape’ You repeated the thought in your head as you struggled in the underbrush, sucking in a breath as you forced yourself to your feet. You kept moving forward, after all, what else could you do? Give in? No. No matter how nice it might seem to just give in, to surrender and finally be at rest you couldn’t keep yourself from limping on. The pain in your ankle was getting unbearable, aggravated by your desperate attempt at survival. Your vision was getting hazy, and your blood was rushing in your ears, and yet, you could still hear him sing. It was like he was all around you, his voice swirling around and pressing into you. 

  “Y/n.” Directly behind you. You whip yourself around and hiss, not a good idea as your ankle screams. “Look at you,” Lucifer regarded you, “how pitiful.” Tears were streaming down your face as you backed away slightly. Lucifer matched your movements, keeping the short distance between the two of you the same. You were hyperventilating, your heart was racing, your eyes flicked about quickly, looking for a weakness, a chance to escape, anything. Alas, no such opportunity provided itself, as he quickly closed the gap and grabbed your chin with a gloved hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. Hunger, amusement, and arousal swirled in his crimson eyes as he gave you a much too gentle smile. Lucifer leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not even worth my effort.” His voice was essentially a growl, low and sharp sounding in your ear. “Why don’t you keep running?”

  Before you even had the chance to register his words, you were on the forest floor once again. Lucifer had pushed you there. You stared up at him for what felt like forever, he was standing over you, his hands casually resting in his front pockets. “What are you waiting for? Run.” You snapped back to reality. He was letting you go? That didn’t seem right, but you weren't about to wait around and question it. You once again clambered to your feet and took flight, ducking under branches and barreling through bushes. He had started singing again. How far could you go? How much farther would you need to go? Your mind raced as you free your shirt that had caught on a branch. It didn’t matter, you would keep going, you would make it. ‘Dear god let me make it.’ But no god could hear you. 

  You realized this as you ran headfirst into Lucifer, he wrapped an arm tightly around your waist and clasped a hand around one of your wrists. He was in his demon form at this point, sharp horns protruding from his hair, soft wings fluttering against his back. His grip was tight, like he was trying to squeeze the life from you just like this. “Tsk tsk little lamb, running right into the waiting arms of the one chasing you? I had expected better.” You struggled weakly, your body beginning to give up. Every muscle in your body was weary, unable to do anything against the demon that hadn’t even broken a sweat. He buried his face in your neck with a deep laugh. “You know you can’t go on, don’t you lamb?” He took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with your scent. “Just give into me.” His breath was somehow cold against your flushed skin, and your knees gave in, causing you to slump in his grip. Another laugh rumbled his chest, this time much more wicked. “Wonderful.”

  You suddenly felt a sharp pain in your neck, your tired brain taking a few moments to realize Lucifer had bitten into you. A choked whimper escaped your lips. Blood trickled down from where his mouth still sat, the metallic taste filling his mouth, causing him to let out a moan. It was a shallow bite, not something you could bleed out from. He greedily lapped and sucked at your neck as the bleeding began to slow. His hand released your wrist, opting to instead explore your thigh, hips, and ass. He squeezed hard on your ass, earning another whimper from you. He swiftly turned you around and pushed you to the ground, your knees, chest, and face all making contact with the hard ground. Lucifer pressed himself against you, grinding slightly against you as he growled in your ear, “You. Are. Mine.” His words filled your mind, repeating over and over.”

  You felt his weight pull off of you, before he ripped what was left of your top off, leaving you cold and shivering. Lucifer pulled his gloves off, and threw them to the side. He raked his claws down your back, small crimson beads forming along the bright burning scratched he left behind. His hands reached the waistband of your bottoms, and he swiftly rid you of them along with your underwear. He let out a deep growl as he kneaded your ass, staring hungrily down at your fully exposed body. Suddenly, you could feel his mouth on your ass, his tongue skillfully swirling and prodding the tight hole. He tongued your ass with vigor, claws digging into your ass cheeks as his grip tightened. Small moans began to fall from your mouth, just loud enough that he could hear them. He pulled back much to your.. Disappointment? Surely, you couldn’t be disappointed that he had stopped rimming you.

  You heard the pop of a lid, followed by a cold, wet finger rubbing against your ass. Had he brought lube? Huh. Lucifer began to press his finger into you, easily slipping the whole finger in. He wiggled the finger inside you for a moment, before he began to push a second finger into you. This finger was met with slight resistance, taking a tiny bit longer to fit inside you. Once both fingers were full inside, he began to scissor them, opening and stretching you out. He pushed them in and out as well, curling his fingers as he went. Your legs were shaking, and your sex was dripping from the stimulation. He hummed as he added a third finger, really making sure to prepare you for what was next. 

  Just as you felt you could take no more, Lucifer pulled his fingers from you. You whined and your ass was gaping slightly from the loss of his fingers. “Oh?” his voice was filled with amusement. “Could it be that you’re wanting this?” He chuckled, which was shortly followed by the sound of a zipper. His thick cock rubbed between your ass cheeks, he drizzled more lube across the top of his cock as the bottom got coated by what was already on your ass. “I can’t wait any longer.” You felt the head of his cock press against your ass, and quickly pop in, eliciting a moan from you, and a deep groan from him. He pressed deeper, stretching and filling you more than you could’ve imagined. 

  As he bottomed out, he placed a hand against your back, and his other hand on your hip. “F-fuck,” he swore as he pulled back slowly, before quickly snapping his hips foreward. He began to set a pace, not very fast, but his thrusts were rough, pushing you forward each time. His claws dug into your skin as he quickened, letting his moans and groans fall freely. His hand shifted from your hip to your sex, long fingers moving defltly and driving you insane. You were close and he could tell. “Are you going to cum?” he panted out. “What a filthy slut, going to cum out here in the woods.” His fingers and thrusts pushed you over the edge, and you let out a strangled moan that was on the verge of sounding like a scream. As your orgasm wracked your body, causing you to shake all over, you tightened on Lucifer's cock, basically sucking him in. 

  Lucifer did not let up, his fingers continued working your sex, his thrusts remained as quick and rough as they had been. The sensation was overwhelming, your vision was spotty and it was all you could do to manage to breath. He followed close behind you, groaning as he released his cum deep into your ass. His thrusts continued though, slightly more erratic, but not slowing down. “You really think im -mng- finished with you?” He leaned over your back and kissed at your neck. “As if.” He pulled out of you momentarily, and flipped you onto your back. He swiftly reinserted himself and leaned over you. He rested on his forearms, framing your head as he caught your mouth in his. He thrust slowly now, grinding himself into you as he messily kissed you. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed back. “Mmhh, what a sweet little lamb you are,” he purred between kisses.

  He kept going like this, slowly fucking you, almost passionately. Alternating between kissing your mouth, cheeks, neck, ears, anywhere he could reach. It was almost as if you were making love in his bed at home, the way he treated you now. You could feel yourself grow closer to orgasm again, and you clamped down on his cock. He smiled against your skin upon feeling this. “Close again, little lamb?” his voice was still rough in your ears, but there was a small hint of sweetness to it. “I’m close too.” You tangled a hand into his hair at those words, running your nails against his scalp and tugging gently. He shifted his weight to support himself with one arm, and slid a hand between the two of you to rub against your sex once more.

  His thrusts quicked slightly as his orgasm built, and he gently moaned your name in your ear. “I want you to cum with me lamb, fuck I’m so close.” You weakly moaned his name in response, your voice thick in your throat. He suddenly thrust hard into you, and filled you once more with his cum. The warm feeling combined with his fingers pushed you over for the second time, you continually moaned out his name as you rode out your orgasm. Your breaths began to slow as he brought his hand up to your mouth. You opened your mouth and cleaned yourself from his hand. He caressed your cheek with his now cleaned hand. “Such a good lamb for me.”

  He pulled himself from you, zipping his softening cock back into his pants. He helped you sit up and kissed you sweetly, before wrapping you up in his coat and picking you up. “Let’s get you home, hm?” He whispered as you settled into his arms, head resting on his chest. You nodded and closed your eyes as the two of you walked in a warm silence to the House of Lamentation. Before you knew it, you had reached his room. He gently set you on his bed. “I’ll run a bath.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before retreating to his private bathroom. You sighed happily, cuddling into his coat and breathing in his scent. It wasn’t long before sweet floral scents began wafting from the bathroom. Lucifer emerged from the bathroom with a first aid kit. “Time to clean up lamb.” You begrudgingly shed his coat, moving as he instructed to give him better access to the various scrapes, cuts, and bite marks. He whispered praise as he cleaned you up with an antiseptic, peppering in plenty of ‘I love you’s.

  He gets to your ankle and you winced. You really managed to do a number on that one. He had used a small amount of magic on the larger of the cuts, but he used more on your ankle. The swelling immediately reduced, and the pain lessened and dulled. “Thank you love,” you managed to croak, your voice not quite ready to be used much. He kissed your nose. 

  “Of course, now, I think the bath is ready.” With that, he picked you up once more, carrying you into the bathroom and helping you into the warm bubble bath he had prepared. He quickly shed his own clothes, and slipped in the tub behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You lean back into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The two of you stay like this, holding each other as he hummed gently. As you felt the water start to cool, you took turns washing the other, gently cleaning off your skin, and massaging your hair. Once you were both clean, Lucifer helped you out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around your shoulders. He drained the tub as you worked on toweling off, he followed suit once he was finished with the tub.

  Now dry, Lucifer returned to tending to your wounds. Applying ointments and bandages, then gently wrapping your ankle. He let out a yawn, and laughed lightly at himself. “Time for bed it seems.” You nodded, giving a yawn yourself. You shimmy under the covers, Lucifer laid himself next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Good night lamb, sweet dreams.” He kissed you once more, before you both drifted off to sleep.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Only Time Makes It Human 2

As promised, here I am with part two, hehe this is looooong and I'm really really proud of it 👉🏻👈🏻 part one here

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: college!au, angst, fluff, many smooches in this chapter I hope you enjoy

Warnings: mentions of cheating, smoking and Zeke being a little shit

Cobblestone streets and modern renovated buildings bathed in tiny multi colored Christmas lights decorated almost every side of Trost with Christmas creeping around the corner. Petra's eyes were gleaming golden as they landed on every store window, the smile on her face refused to fade. Her footing only became faster as they approached the turn to the familiar coffee shop.

Her cuffed up jeans swayed as she flickered her feet to the pedestral, expectedly catching Levi's attention, but not for the reason she'd like to. Today, Petra seemed too bright and bubbly to take notice of any puddle of water that was left behind from last evening's brief snow storm. Everytime Levi managed to open his mouth, in hopes of scolding her to prevent her from getting her feet wet she seemed to skillfully sway herself out of danger, leaving him with his mouth slightly parted while his unspoken words took a roote from the tip is his tongue back to his brain.

"Come on Levi! We're almost there!" Petra said enthusiastically.

Levi only managed to click his tongue in response. With a head that was begging to burst and hips that burned in soreness and superstitial scratches inside his sweatpants he couldn't possibly bring himself to catch up on Petra's enthusiasm. He even caught himself wondering how Petra was in such a good mood; as if she wasn't mixing any existing drink along with Hange last night.

His head was swamping him, drowning him with trillions of new questions with every passing second. It was merely impossible for him to ignore his point of view of last night's events. His mind was not even allowing him to take a breather, to enjoy a soul mending cup of hot tea before he could come up with any believable assumption as to how exactly he ended up in the position he woke up in.

As he sternly walked ahead behind his bubbly partner, his heart protested in his chest everytime he set his eyes on Petra's auburn hair. His stomach, much in a horrid condition as well threatened him to spill the alcohol poisoned insides it was welding; every aspect of his sore, hungover body deemed him unable to allow him to carry on.

Nontheless, as they took the inevitable turn the all too familiar coffee shop stood only a few meters away from him as he paced a few more steps, clutching his stomach along with each tap of his feet on the ground. Petra shot him a knowing glare before she set her hands on the vast metallic knob, a loving half smile lingered it's way across her full pinkish cheeks.

Winter time didn't suit Petra, she knew that as much as the next person. Despite the fact that the saturated rosy hue on her cheeks and nose made her look unbelievably sweet, her caramel like persona and choice of aesthetic screamed spring from miles away. It was a miracle that she could manage to get through wintertime somehow stylish and warm. With her lilac puffer jacket zipped up over her mouth and her wide leg jeans cuffed perfectly in order for her butterfly patterned socks to peak from her creamy Converse, she felt somehow confident enough that this could be a regular casual look for her.

However, with the holidays approaching in a week's time she knew she would have much more liberty to her clothing choices. She shot another warm look at Levi again, never loosing her small smile as she painted the picture of the two of them near Erwin's fireplace on Christmas day in her head.

Had it not been for his body pushing him over the edge of guilt be probably would have left his heart warm up by the small affectionate gesture.

Petra's attention seemed to deviate away from him for a few, mere seconds, with an ultimate goal to find a nice comfortable booth to sit in. Upon her eyes falling to the left she spotted one that looked decent, if not, the best booth in the cafe. Plenty of today's minimal sunlight was gathered on the spot; at the side there was a waitress, silently scrubbing the surface of the table with force, a tray with used cups and plates balancing perfectly on her other hand.

Amazing spot and recently cleaned? Levi's prayers must have been heard today.

She resended the fact that Levi would be too grumpy to let himself be bathed in light; with a grip of her hand around his wrist she pulled him towards the booth in fast movements. She couldn't have anyone take the perfect stand on her favorite cafe and plus, it would do good to both her and Levi to warm up under the nice morning light.

Petra loosened her puffer jacket off her frame, as silently as she could master; she knew by looking at Levi's face that he was in pain. It was unusual if him to get that drunk, she knew, but he had been particularly grumpy and almost too generous with his drink the previous night.

Not that Petra couldn't suspect the reason as to why Levi had managed to go to such extend. Her mind had been fast to put the pieces together when she saw you approaching their group and even faster to acknowledge that you seemed to ignore Levi and her completely. She had seen the effort and pain in your somewhat unfocused eyes every time you threw a small glance at them, she had seen the way Levi's face would fall with every passing second as your greeting to him never came and she wasn't one to judge.

When deciding to go after Levi after he had just broken up with you she knew she had to accept that maybe he wouldn't be able to recover from his past relationship that early as to get in one with her. Hange had warned her about it, her friends had warned her about it, but with her caramel sunshine personality and quick smart wits she had found her self in a promising position to Levi's future. In addition, they were having fun, joyous moments together, their linking had soon turned into what seemed like a blooming relationship.

"So." Petra beamed and shook her thoughts off her head, extending her hands patiently waiting for Levi to respond to the action by tingling his fingers through hers. "What's today's tea?"

Getting comfortable in her seat wasn't hard. The faux leathery material of the booth rubbed on her buttocks but with her jeans muffling most of the sound though she let it fall deaf in her ears. Still, her hands sat welcomingly extended on the table, her fingers occasionally motioning Levi to take a good grab at them to which he never seemed to pay attention. He seemed to distracted and anxious, too deviated of the world around him. But still Petra remained beaming, patient.

"Today." Levi sighed, burying his head between his palms, rubbing along his eyebrows with his thumbs. "Today I'll have coffee."

"Oh it's one of those days?" Despite not wanting to be too generous with her bubbliness to the point where she could irritate the man, Petra chose to simply lower her voice in understanding.

"Turkish, make it double and bitter."

Only on rare occasions did Levi drink coffee. He didn't despise the taste as much as warm lager though, what got him cringing with coffee was that he'd be moody and sad all day afterwards. But today sure had been an exception. No amount of painkillers would work for his head if he didn't get a sufficient amount of caffeine in his body. And since he already was in a shitty mood, how could coffee make it any worse.

With Petra out of sight for a few moments he was for the first time today, left alone with his thoughts. As his head throbbed memories roared their way to every corner of his brain, making his eyes squint. Anxiety would creep in and out as he thought of leaving you in his apartment confused and all alone, supposing you'd know what to do.

How could you know what to do?

In that moment leaving with Petra had seemed as the only possible thing for him to do; he couldn't expose you to her, for all that was worth you shouldn't have been there in the first place. But now? Thinking about it made him sick to the stomach. You were equally confused as lost in the moment and he had left you alone after spitting his anger for himself towards you, he made a mental note that a little self control couldn't harm him the next time he had to deal with promiscuous situation.

Most importantly though, he was facing an irrational inner conflict. He wasn't one to jump to impulsive decisions, but he wasn't one to be unfaithful either; his actions sat acute on his chest, sending dry gulps down his throat.

Petra arrived with two drinks in her hands before he had time to process his thoughts further. Sitting her self on the booth again she passed him the small white cup, the strong aroma of Turkish coffee hitting him immediately upon the action.

His chest tensed as he finally felt comfortable to shift outside of his jacket. The guilt inside him was tripping, lathering his stomach in vibrations and spending hot waves throughout his body. Suddenly, he couldn't bare to look across the table in Petra's direction.

She was sipping tenderly on her hot cup of chocolate cappuccino, her upper lip curled up in a sweetheart manner on the rim of the cup as she ogled at him with a feathery soft expression plastered across her face.

Though he loathed to be put in such position by his own self, the decision in the back of his mind seemed like the only rational one. As the time passed by and his coffee sat in the small cup, still as ever, his thoughts only roared louder. Was what he was thinking the right thing to do or was he just jumping into another heartbreak?

There was a sudden hunger eating away his insides, a need to see you and sit down to talk about whatever had happened last night. His heart was pounding at the thought of sitting across from you under a softer, humane setting, with your eyes starting into his. Maybe you could linger your hand into his, in the way Petra had prompted him to do so before and maybe he'd be able to somehow come up with particular words to solve the tention between the two of you.

But supposing that could ever be the case, that prompt left no room for Petra by his side.

"Maybe we should take a break."

The words left his mouth before he could manage to put an alt to his thoughts.

Without realizing, his eyes were now wide, starring deep into Petra's hazel ones. With shaky hands he grabbed his cup, deciding now that it was time to wet his dry mouth.

"No." Petra blinked her eyes erratically into Levi's, taken aback as she was.

It hit her like a truck.

One particular thing had struck Petra, back in the day when watching Mean Girls as a coming of age teen for the first time. The way Regina was slammed by the school bus was raw and unforgiving, perfectly fit to the nature of the scene and surprisingly it had looked realistic enough to make Petra -or anyone else- gasp. But had she ever thought she'd be in Regina's shoes?

"No?" Levi spoke as if he was right on time to answer the question in her mind. But Petra was still struck, mouth slightly agap as she stared back at him. Her mind was traveling on way too many places at once, sending anxiety to her stomach but she managed, despite all odds, to take a deep breath. Then, another.

"What's gotten into you Levi?" She asked.

"Last night was," he paused, averting his eyes with guilt.

Suddenly, Petra knew. She didn't have to try and guess what he was despairately trying to mutter. The evidence was everywhere, but she had deliberately chose to close her eyes. She should have known ever since last night when Levi left without informing no one. She squinted her eyes and furrowed her brows, by clenching her fists hard enough so that her nails were digging into her palms her knuckles turned white.

It was mostly his appearance that gave him away, more so than his behavior. When it was most likely for Levi to be unusually grumpy on many days, it wasn't like him to dress so randomly. His woolen black turtleneck didn't exactly match his sweatpants and his leather jacket. It wasn't like him to make such matches between his clothes, not even when he was in a hurry. In addition, she could see the marks behind his right ear, something he might have had no idea about, but she was going to spare him of the embarrassment.

"No, we're not breaking up."

It wasn't like her to mouth such statement; in fact, Petra would never on her right mind prevent someone from breaking up with her. She had seen it happening one too many times. Of course human relationships were made to fall apart at some point but her luck, especially when it came to romance, had never been kind.

She had been kind to everyone instead.

Whether people liked it or not that was her. Kind and considerate too much for her own good. She couldn't help that she was attracted to mysterious looking men with issues that would stand in her way of happiness; Levi was a tangible example. As much as she would like to mark her territory around him, she was aware he didn't belong to her. He had unbeknownst to him made sure to show on different occasions, whether it was by staring at you from afar for a lite too long or by finding her self being offered to wear your spare clothes that lived still in his apartment.

Maybe that was what was breaking her heart, urging her in turn to refuse his departure from her life. She didn't know why she shushed him in such way. Was it that her heart would tear in two if she heard an actual confirmation to her thoughts fall off the tip of his tongue? Most probably.

"I don't mind." She cut him off the moment she saw him opening his mouth to speak. "I'll help you get through this, I wouldn't abandon you for a slip up."

...

"(Y/n)! Where have you been we've been worried sick!"

The moment you set your collapsing feet inside the campus Sasha's eyes fell on your form, desperately shooting you simultaneous glares of terror and relief. The brunette practically run to your direction; with her feet stomping on the now discolored, moist grass that covered the majority of the campus yard she marched ambiguously. A worriedly frowned Eren who tried his best to contain his messy hair from getting in his eyes as he run, followed asuit.

"Jeez, why are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Sasha inquired, her voice loud as it was rang through your throbbing head, lingering in any possible hurting crevice. "Are you alright!?"

"Sas, don't scream, my head is about to explode." You muttered with watery eyes, begging your self to ignore Sasha's and Eren's puzzled faces.

"You reek of alcohol and sweat!" Eren exclaimed. "Shit. Where did you stay the night?"

"Beats me, Eren, I could have slept at a bench for all I know," you exhaled below a tainted breath.

At the sight of Eren's hard, unforgiving gaze, you could feel your heart speeding up inside your chest, the small vital organ clenched on your lungs, preventing them from processing air normally. Your chest burned in anxiety and uncertainty, there wasn't much time for you to come up with any excuse of your nighttime where abouts, you knew that much, and Eren or Sasha weren't going to straight up digest any profound lie you could come up with on the spot.

"Where did you wake up though?" Eren inquired sternly, yet his voice wasn't exactly authoritative as he waited for your answer.

"Outside my apartment door, I really don't remember anything up to that though."

"Don't scare us like that!" Sasha playfully punched your shoulder as she spoke with worried eyes. Her expression though quickly changed comically into fright as she finally scanned you up and down. "Just! Where is your jacket? It's freezing! Are you crazy?"

"I left it at that house yesterday. And my keys were in it." You muttered, averting your gaze away from Sasha.

"Stay here, I have a spare jacket in my bag, I'll go get it from Connie."

You nodded in response ignoring the fact that Sasha was already running away on her tracks upon the words leaving her lips. Quickly, you noticed as the expression of disapproval deformed off Eren's face, his lips curling upwards into into a soft smug.

He leaned close to you, bringing his face to the crook of your neck tilting his chin upwards so that his lips were almost brushing against your earlobe.

"I sure did leave you a nice mark yesterday huh? Don't flaunt it like that people will get jealous that im with you." A chuckle escaped him as he placed a quick kiss at the side of your neck. Eren's words were slowly shivering their way through your spine raising every single hair on your body.

When you realised what he was referring to your eyes widened, the tender spot of skin on your nape he had planted a kiss on burned in spreading hot blotches. Your stomach growled in protest to your feelings, threatening to spill once again as anxiety tied the organ in a numbing knot.

You shot a puzzled look at Eren -or rather at his back- but you weren't sure for what exactly. Your head was spinning, processing his spoken words unevenly in despairate efforts to put the pieces together. Was he aknowledging that you were together or was he sassing you over hickies he hadn't been the one to make?

And as oblivious as ever he only shot you a wide ear to ear grin. The cold winter air blew his long bangs to all directions across his face, his eyes squinting in happiness as he pulled back from your neck placing his palms over your shoulders. He didn't really seem like he even knew whether the marks on your neck were made by him.

"You know, maybe we should go out next Saturday alright?" He batted his eyes on you once again "No labels, just us buying Christmas gifts. Maybe Zeke could come as well."

Ah yes, Zeke. As if your problems weren't big enough already while you had to deal with the fact that you were most probably ruining Levi's life again with yesterday's actions, you also had to tolerate Christmas shopping with Eren and Zeke. When the fact that Eren would avoid the two of you being alone together in any date-like scenario was a given it was only on rare occasions your so proud and self proclaimed wingman stuck along with you.

In the back of your head you could always think about Levi and how much he disliked that you would sometimes hang out with Zeke, especially due to the fact that the two of you shared a sculpture class.

But why exactly were you thinking about that now?

Nevertheless you needed to stop your mind from running back to Levi for only a moment. The way he had abandoned you in his apartment all alone was cruel enough and as you looked at Eren, worrying your button lip between your front teeth, you contemplated on whether you deserved it.

You had gotten up on your wobbly feet only to maniacally search for your clothes all over his floor. Your jacket, long forgotten in his car to which of course you didn't have access, held your apartment keys. You had opted to just dress up with the clothes you had and walk the short distance to the campus; what could have possibly happened in a ten minute walk? You couldn't freeze your arms off in such a short period of time.

Admittedly, you had taken numerous walks without a jacket after midnight during wintertime, but the freezing morning breeze of December in Trost was something you wished you had never underestimated.

If you could, you would have Sasha slap you for not borrowing one of Levi's jackets but in your last hungover braincell's defense, you didn't want to cause him any more trouble. Of course you'd put him in enough trouble when you'd ask him for your jacket and keys, you couldn't possibly imagine to have to give him back a piece of clothing you had burrowed without asking.

You were positive he had come to hate you enough that he could set any cloth you wore on fire. Was he going to do the same to the bed covers, you wondered.

Naturally, your thoughts were cut short as Sasha approached you with a hooded sweater in her hands. As the brunette whined, out of breath you finally awknowledged Eren again; his hand was wrapped around your shoulders, providing momentarily warmth as he worriedly stared at your shivering jaw.

"You must be so cold." Sasha mouthed as she wrapped her own arms over Eren's around you. "I'm sorry I didn't have a spare jacket snd, Connie didn't either but Reiner did, he gave me this and he said he'd search for your jacket at their frat alright?"

You simply nodded, slightly closing your eyes in acceptance of her gesture. Your own frozen arms came to wrap around her waist as you pulled her close to you. "Thank you baby."

"Don't mention it. Reiner also gave me a jersey, they're both fleece, you should be warm enough."

Eren seemed to shift uncomfortably as you ripped Reiner's black hoodie off Sasha's grip, despairately speeding up your movements to wear the warmth providing piece of clothing over your form. His lips puckered momentarily as he pinched his nose in what looked like annoyance from the corner of your eye. Quickly though you caught his face falling into a smug expression once again as he eyed you.

"I'll say thanks to Reiner for you." Eren said, clicking his tongue while pinching his nose once again.

Once Eren strolled away, Sasha widened her eyes dropping her mouth in an unbelievable manner of disbelief. She sucked the underside of her mouth, propping her lower lip even further to exaggerate the comical effect of her expression. Not that you were one to judge, you stared back at her with the same look on your face as well, puzzled much by Eren's mixed signals. The two of you continued to stare back and forth at eachother for a few silent moments as your temples throbbed, despairate to process what had just happened.

"Is Eren jealous?" Sasha finally uttered, finally putting the situation into words. "What the actual fuck?"

"You know he told me to go Christmas shopping with him? As in going out?" Sasha's mouth formed into an 'o' as she stared at you, her eyes lingering at your lips awaiting for your next sentence. "And what do you know, then he even said no strings attached and that he'd invite Zeke as well."

"And now he's jealous of Reiner giving you his clothes?" Sasha furrowed her brows at this, earning a reluctant nod in response by you.

"I need to have a smoke, or else I can't process this." You sighed, avoiding Sasha's disapproving gaze at your statement. As your eyes scanned around the campus you spotted Erwin and Mike sat on a kiosk. A mischievous grin of relief creeped onto your face as you thought of how Erwin would never run low on tobacco. "Wanna go say hi to Erwin and Mike?"

Sasha simply nodded, opting to keep her lecture about the hazardous nature of smoking to herself. This would have to wait for another time; she knew better than to go against her hungover friends. Connie especially was a pain in the ass to deal with. Everyone knew that much thus compared to him, your need to have a smoke felt almost irrelevant.

"Erwin!" You rolled your eyes, your face squinting in pain as you plopped yourself next to the blond, your head quickly coming to rest on his shoulder "Tell me you've got much needed tobacco and filters."

"Sure I... Uh.. I do."

"Great," you sighed "please roll me one."

Even if you missed the way everyone's eyes widened at your sudden presence, Sasha certainly didn't. With a quick, shy look at Erwin, she apologetically averted her gaze to everyone in the kiosk; she nervously cleared her throat next, attempting to get your attention as subtly as possible yet, you still sat with your eyes closed, leaning on Erwin's shoulder. In a way Sasha felt sorry for what she was about to do, but you'd be thanking her forever once you had gotten yourself out of the situation.

"Hi Levi, Petra."

"Oi"

"Hi Sasha!"

Your eyes shot open in terror as you heard the exchange of words. Your head almost immediately shot up from Erwin's shoulder; of course, as Sasha had warned you with her greeting, Levi and Petra stood before you, eyeing you up and down in judgemental looks. Automatically you placed your fingers at the nape of your neck, ready to mingle with the skin there in an attempt to cover up the bruised skin from Petra, not thinking about whether your nervous actions easily gave you away.

"Uh... Hey you guys!" You spoke. The need to to bite your tongue off and swallow it so you could never mouth anything as awkward ever again hit you almost instantly. Awestruck by your awkwardness Levi and Petra only nodded in response, causing a long sigh to escape your lips.

You seriously didn't know why you had to go through this. All you wanted was to actually process last night in a quiet friendly environment and then maybe you'd attempt to think about Eren's weirdly awaken jealously. But as Levi's steely orbs burned holes in your form, wide enough to indicate he could might as well be seeing someone come back from the dead, you disposed of the fantasy. Of course he had to occupy your mind I'm such way that your heart burned brighter than your hungover headache.

No one around you could possibly know what the look you shared with Levi meant. As far as everyone was concerned last night hadn't happened, not in their timeline at least, but for you and the onyx haired man it was an inescapable reality. It was almost telepathic, the way you knew what he was trying to tell you with his steely gaze, as if he was answering the questions inside your head.

We need to talk about last night.

Nervously you averted your gaze to Erwin's hands and they brought the rolled cigarette to your lips, wordlessly asking for you to sip the edge of the rolling paper with some saliva from the tip of your tongue to activate the glue. Once he handed the cigarette to you, you shot up, putting weight on your now week knees. With one hand you put the cigarette between your lips, you took a drag as you carefully lit it up with the lighter Erwin handed you. You waved everyone goodbye, rubbing your palm on Mike's back, earning a small smile from the blond.

Great, now there was no way you'd ask for your jacket back. You'd have someone unlock your door for you. So much for saving yourself from such embarrassment.

...

Saturday came before you could even have time to decide what gift you wanted to get everybody. As per usual, you'd be spending Christmas at Erwin's; it had became a tradition in your group even before you and Levi had hit it off as a couple. Erwin was living all alone in a huge, very non college student budget-y apartment. His father had bought it for him before passing away and you as his dear friend group, had made an oath to never leave him lonely on Christmas.

Except for last year you'd usually you'd have dinner at Erwin's. Levi had always been strict on spending at least half of the day with his mother, therefore Erwin had always had Christmas scheduled. You'd visit him on the 23rd, making all preparations for Christmas dinner and Levi's cake, so that you wouldn't have much work when the big day would finally come.

Naturally, you'd open gifts at Erwin's, therefore you always dropped your presents for the group at his place when you'd buy them, although today you didn't think you'd be able to do so.

While you were almost done with buying presents, Zeke and Eren were spending way too much time pestering each other for what gift they'd buy to their father; at first they had set their eyes on an expensive silver watch. You had to admit it was a beautiful accessory, the way it shone under the bright lighting of the store's window seemed magnificent and just like you had told Eren, you approved of such gift for Grisha, one hundred percent.

And right about then, Zeke has decided to stir things up. You knew he was jealous of Eren's and Grisha's father and son relationship, but you had never guessed it could go to such mischievous extend on the blond's behalf. With a sour expression and a poison dripping mouth Zeke had expresed his utter disgust over the watch, claiming that this was not the right gift for their father and that they should settle for something more 'doctor-like'.

Their bickering had went on for about an hour before you had decided to excuse yourself from the jewelry store. Now, you stood sat on one of the comfortable futuristic benches in between the stores, scrolling maniacally through Instagram. It was such a slow Saturday and if you were to say you were bored it would only be an understatement; almost nobody had posted anything interesting enough to catch your attention, no new music was announced by your favorite artists, hell you even missed people posting a bunch of stories with their Christmas trees.

You almost ignored the tall, dark frame approaching you as you were deeply lost into your phone. Destiny's Child - 8 Days to Christmas repeatedly blasted in your ears as you continued to scroll, still ignorant to the figure beside you.

Your own little Christmas bubble world was cut absurdly as a hand came to wave between you and your phone screen. Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped on your spot, taken aback by the sudden action. Wide eyed and looking to your left you finally came to identify the man who had startled you.

Now that could be a cure to your boredom. Even if it wasn't the best possible option.

"Kenny?" You exhaled enthusiastically slipping your hand between your locks of (h/c) hair, reaching for the small black ear buds. "I'm so sorry I was wearing my headphones. What are you doing here?"

"Ahh just buying Kuchel's gift. You got me thinking you were trying to ignore me runt."

"I'd never, be-" You playfully punched his shoulder as he eyed you, a smirk appearing in his face quicker than you thought it would.

"Besides I'm your favorite uncle, right?" He spoke, completing your sentence. A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he rubbed his cold hands together, hoping to create enough friction to warm up his fingertips. "How long have you been waiting for the midget runt?"

You turned your dropping face away from his direction as the words fell off his mouth. Your heart gradually started throbbing inside your chest, the tight knot of anxiety was forming and coming undone in fragments of seconds as you stared at the white granite under your feet. Kenny must had taken a while to realise the chance of aura around you, a steady chuckle came out of him as he commented on Levi's meticulous routine of picking gifts for his friends.

"And why the long face?" Finally, he turned his attention to you "Did you have a fight?"

"Not exactly, we haven't fought in a long time." You admitted.

Kenny's gray eyes worried over you before squinting in another smiling manner. His palm came to playfully slap your upper back as he left out another loud chuckle of amusement. "I'm sure you two don't have many things to fight about. Kuchel is so enamored by that, how do you even manage with this brat (y/n)?"

"I don't... Not anymore at least."

Kenny's chuckle was cut short absurdly by your soft, mumbling voice. There was no way he hadn't heard what you had just said, he was just struggling to comprehend the context of your words. You claiming you weren't dealing with him anymore meant you weren't together anymore and Levi had deliberately kept this secret from him and Kuchel.

"Wait, you're not together? When did that happen?"

"Kenny" you paused, deciding to set your eyes onto him all while still avoiding his gaze. "It's almost been a year."

"What? Wait, why?"

"Levi and I, how do I put this in the shortest way possible, Kenny..." You sighed, bringing a finger to the side of your lips and biting the inside of your cheek as you tried your best to concentrate on your summing up skills. "He became distant, too engrossed with studying and shut himself off and I guess I just, I felt excited for something else. Levi felt excited for something else too."

That could make up for a quick summary, it could be enough to make Kenny understand the quick narration of you point of view. It was unnecessary to go into further details, such as how you had came closer with Eren throughout your group, or how Zeke had tried his best to convince you that he was right on the fact that Levi was growing more distant with each passing day, every time you'd open up to him about your problems.

More over, you couldn't possibly go into the lengths as to how quickly Levi had hit it off with Petra, proving Zeke's assumptions on the fact that maybe Levi was just tired of you.

"Shit. I'm sorry, if it helps, care to gossip on Levi's new item?" Kenny shifted his hands inside the pockets of his camel colored trench coat, rubbing circles on his upper thighs through the material of the pockets. "I'm dying to to know to what he moved on."

"Kenny! I don't do that!" You bit back and lowered your gaze as you instantly second guessed your statement. You contemplated on whether talking lowly about Petra is the right thing or not to do; she hadn't done anything wrong to you, she was just dating someone she liked while you were turning into their bitter, regretful ex. You couldn't possibly have the right to be jealous of her. But as you looked at Kenny's disapproving expression, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you were. "But I guess I'll show her to you!"

With a double tap your screen came to life, the familiar unlocking page bubbling as it urged you to fill your chosen password. Your fingers ran quickly on the familiar numbers; you've typed them one too many times already. You bit your lip in newfound anxiety as you awkwardly scrolled your social media folder, your fingers found the fuchsia camera icon automatically. With another tap your white Instagram homepage popped up, accommodating a picture of Mike and Nanaba's hands, each holding a carton cup. With a quick doubly tap you liked the picture and set your self the task of on swiping through the story icon features, quickly searching for Petra's familiar profile picture.

"Ah here you go." You finally spoke, breaking the silence as you found Petra's icon. Tapping on it once her newest story popped up. You set your finger on the screen again, keeping your tap locked in place to pause the flow of the story.

The picture depicted her standing before her mirror dressed in a white turtleneck layered with a powder blue plaid dress and topped with a black flap pocket woolen jacket. You could make the creative 'outfit of the day' mention on the bottom left corner, although you were unsure if Kenny cared enough about Petra's Saturday outfit. Plus, you didn't really need him to compare her sophisticated style to you.

"You know I can't really see her face, her phone is in the way."

You simply tapped over Petra's profile name as you sighed. Petra's feed appeared before your eyes, slowly loading all her highlights and posts. You gave your phone to Kenny next, deliberately choosing to look away and stay silent as he scrolled through the girls photos, curiously ogling at her for a few seconds.

"Ah runt," he spoke after sometime, his hands extending to give your phone back, "you ain't gonna stop being my favorite child, he'll come back around you know. He'll always love you, you have his heart and all that jazz."

Kenny tried his best to cut himself some slack from the awkwardness of the situation. Keyword; tried. As he sighed, his head spinner on what he could possibly say to you, he could exactly pinpoint if you needed to be reassured or comforted, or whether he was too late to be there for you.

There was something puzzling you, that was certainly written all over your face as you studied him. Your fingers were nervously mingling with eachother as you gripped on your phone, your hips shifting uncomfortably in the spot you sat. You were nervously thrusting around in your seat, that was much obvious to someone that knew you like Kenny did.

"He already did. But I'm not convinced he loves me, it's more like he has one more reason to hate me. We uhm we... You know, pfft, TMI Kenny, I'm sorry but I need to talk about this with someone."

"Shoot it!"

"We hooked up a well ago."

Oh shit, now that was new. Kenny's eyes widened in surprise as the words left your lips. His shifted himself enough to fully face you, his gray eyes worriedly meeting yours as you opened your mouth to explain. Words that were supposed to flow effortlessly ceased to exist as another, louder voice overshadowed your own.

"Zeke I swear I'll kill you if you- oh who's that (y/n)?"

You turned your head to the owner of the voice, your heart dropping the moment you met Eren's soft turquoise gaze. He stood there, clutching the small burgundy gift bag in his grip, as victorious smug adorned his features.

"Uh, finally you guys! This is Kenny Ackerman, he's," you paused, suddenly uncertain on how you should introduce Kenny to Eren and Zeke or whether you should introduce him to them at all.

"Levi's uncle." Kenny spoke, saving you from unnecessary fidgeting of information. He eyed Eren meticulously as his face slightly dropped in annoyance.

"I'm Eren Yeager, (y/n)'s friend and that's my brother, Zeke."

Eren smiled and extended his hand for a shake at Kenny's direction. Clicking his tongue, Kenny reluctantly gave his hand to the younger man before nodding knowingly in your direction. Eren didn't have to say anything else to prove Kenny he was halfheartedly trying to assert some dominance over you and although the older man tried his best to keep his laughter to himself, he got the message Eren was trying to convey.

Taking another breather to himself, Kenny picked his lips, allowing his face to fall into his usual stern expression.

"See you around (y/n)."

..

You laid on your couch, enthusiastically reading through a Greek epic you had burrowed from Hange a while back. Your hair dripped into the towel you had folded on the arm of the couch as you rested your head against it. You had wanted to slow down your thoughts before taking a change at blow drying your hair, there was a rage of overthinking going inside you that you refused to be left alone with.

You felt overly slow after your meeting with Kenny; the bath you had taken had done nothing to soothe down the wild nature of your thoughts, despite the fact that you had taken your time soaking in hot water and lavender oils.

The strangle fatigue you felt was feeling more indifferent with every passing second as you anxiously read bout Antigone's suicide, your heart was slowly being filled with grief as you though about her significant other, Heamon and how he could possibly react to her death. You were so enamored with the fact that Heamon was son to the king who had ordered Antigone's imprisonment that your eyes were ready to spill all the unshed tears that had gathered in the small corners of tender skin.

You set the epic down, burying your face between your palms as you let out a deep sigh. The air in the room felt heavy, you thought, thus you decided to get up from your couch and stroll around the room to reach for your hairbrush. Maybe now was the time to blow dry your head, your thoughts were completely off Kenny and Levi for the moment.

The sound of your doorbell startled you, though, making you freeze on your spot. You immediately unlocked your phone, hurriedly checking through your notifications for a sign on who it could be; it was rather unusual for someone to just visit you without having informed you about it beforehand.

Nontheless you marched over to the intercom, your finger shooting to press the metallic button to let your voice ring on the other side of the front door of your apartment building.

"It's Levi. I've got your jacket."

Panic run through you in throbbing waves. You simply stood there, feeling utterly and ridiculously puzzled with what you should do. You didn't know if you wanted to run down the front door and just grab the jacket on your own or if you just wanted to call Levi in. Grasping the situation seemed only fair, even in your panicked state you could admit you knew that much.

Your fingers immediately reached for the button underneath the one you were pressing causing a buzzing sound to ring through the intercom. You nervously opened your door and as on que, a few moments later Levi's frame emerged from the elevator doors, strolling to your direction, your black leather jacket neatly folded in his arms.

You wanted to speak, to greet him decently for once after all that time but you failed to find any prompt as to how to do that. Your mind felt at haze as you stared at him while he walked up to, the light from your apartment slowly illuminated his face more with every new step he took to its direction.

"Hey, sorry I came so suddenly, I'm on my way to the movies." He greeted, probing his head upwards to accentuate the action.

'Hey' you wanted to say, to establish some normal ground in your dynamics but still the words that left your mouth before you had enough time process what you wanted to say didn't exactly disappoint.

"Wanna come in?" The subtle look in your eyes as you fixated your orbs at his was at the very least, mesmerizing. If Levi was to describe it, he'd find himself quickly running out of sophisticatedly flavored academic words.

There was definitely a different kind of tention forming between the two of you. It was in the air, but whether it was caused by his own brain as he made the all too casual car ride to your place or by the way that you casually swayed your hair over your shoulder before prompting your head closer to him to speak up, he didn't know. All that he knew was that he was feelings his heart hammering in his chest as anxiety creeped in his stomach. The bold nature of his actions was having this profound effect on him and he'd be damned if he had to question himself one more time as to why he was in your doorstep now out of all times.

Still, your words somewhat lingered in his brain, despite almost falling deaf on his ears. His inability to pay attention to words was probably caused by his heart throbbing in his chest at witnessing this side of you.

"Sure" Levi found his mouth vomiting an answer.

You stepped aside, making room for him to entered the room as you gestured him to. Once he had walked in you closed the door behind you, your chest heaving in a despairately deep breath.

...

Did all kisses feel like that?

Your lips were soft and tender and tasting like burnt tobacco while Levi's were chapped dry and thus split, tinted in purple and tasting like dried blood. It was eeree to think about it, how it came to yours lips finding his once again or why it felt the way it did and why did it momentarily comfort you.

Your whole body was paralyzed with stress and agony; you couldn't move. The inability to speak caused by the burning guilt driven feeling inside your stomach was slowly taking a toll on how the rest of your internals liked to function. The efforts you were putting to regulate your breathing out of your nostrils were tainted and faint, as if not enough courage was laying underneath them and you hated it. You hated that your lungs were paralyzed like that under Levi's mouth on yours.

Maybe if you stopped existing or disappeared for just a moment everything would be normal when the next one came. Yet, things could never work like that and reality was always unforgiving to the actions you would decide to go for.

You still couldn't process how this had happened. One minute you were sat on your couch, angrily looking at each other as you spoke about how prohibited and dirty was what you had endulged in the previous week and the next your words had ceased to exist. His gray orbs had locked into yours, his breathing had quickened, much like yours, and your faces had been so close that your noses were almost touching.

You didn't know what had pushed you to act upon the tention in the air. Maybe it was your aching heart or Levi's eyes as they had begged you to kiss him. Now your own lips, in a similar way were begging him not to stop moving against yours.

Lost in your extravagant world of misery and heartache you didn't seem to realise that Levi's hand still hadn't left your cheek when you let out a long deep sigh escaped your mouth. Instantly though, with your brain acknowledging the moment and delving deeper into the reality of this situation, you jolted away, causing Levi to jump back on his tracks, as if he'd be electrocuted.

"Levi" you trailed off, softly mumbling the next words "I'm so sorry I did this, I should have known better."

Your heart was beyond hammering inside your chest; the cold dripping swear of anxiety had started to coat your palms and upper chest as he engulfed your lips again, this time much more gently. He gently tagged on your bottom lip, worrying it between his own lips. The mellow sounds of sucking filled the air as you tried to pull back, only to be attacked by his mouth every time.

Suddenly as you had just started melting under his hot touch on your waist, you heard what sounded as the most despicable sound that ever existed. Levi's phone buzzed in his pocket as it rang angrily, causing him to pull back from your face. The phone stopped ringing though, just before he could manage to swipe the answer button to the right, sending a huff of annoyance to leave him.

Petra's caller ID burned in his screen once again as his phone started ringing for the second time. This time, he hesitated to lick up. As he started at you apologetically his fingers trembled. He knew, eventually he would pick up the phone, judging by the time his phone read he was late to the very own screening he had decided to ask Petra to. Guilt formed in the back of his throat and he clicked his tongue to try and suck it up, even for a brief moment. With his finger on the acceptance button he turned to you again fixating his eyes at your bruised lips before he spoke.

"I have to go y/n I'm so sorry." He said and finally brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, I'm on my way, I had a mishap, I'll be there in ten, save a seat for me."

This all felt too familiar, once again you were forced into the third person's perspective, although this time you were fully aware of your intentions before and after the so called mishap.

"Listen, supposing you want this to work again we have to put an end to whatever else we have going on. I can't bear being the-"

"I know" he quickly cut you off, picking up his letter jacket from the pool it had formed around him as he hurriedly got up. "I'll call you alright? Have a good night." You blinked at him, not having enough time to utter a response as you watched him run to your door.

Your heart fell to your stomach as you stood frozen in your couch witnessing him exit your small apartment, not even bothering to look back.

You knew now that if Levi chose Petra your world was going to burn.

If you suffered along with my by reading one too many paragraphs in this chapter I'm sorry, thank you though for reading this fic in its entirety, please look forward to part 3 hehe, as always here are my tags: @ackermans-freedom-inc @sasageyowrites (my baby thank you for helping me SO much with this chapter I don't have enough words to explain how much I love you) @ladyofpandemonium @nobody-knows-anymore @levisbrat25 @papinaveensbitch @alrightberries

[scullydubois]

history in retrograde

~aka I try my hand at smut (!)~  read on a03

I'm totally out of my comfort zone here so uhhh...if this isn't the most embarrassing thing you've ever read, let me know! Also I know the title doesn't really make sense but I thought it sounded cool...if history is the past, and retrograde means going backwards, does history in retrograde mean moving forward? That's my thinking.

tagging @today-in-fic & @willowrose99

Scully is surprised to learn she's not the only one Mulder has pinned to the basement desk. Rated M, 1.5k. Set in season 7.

Her breath catches as he thrusts into her, her petite form shifting like a boat at the ocean’s mercy. She throws her head back in ecstasy. Her gaze catches the pencils stuck in the ceiling, noting that they form a mirror of her and her partner’s current position. How ironic. 

His hands envelop her exposed collarbone, pinning her to the desk she once resented him for having. That day seems like something that must have occurred in a dream, so distant from her current self that it can’t possibly have been real. She had been angry at him then. Thinking of leaving. Now he is one with her, and she doesn’t ever want to leave.

She started this. One day she wanted him inside her, and she didn’t want to wait until they were in her car, or on his couch, or in whoever’s bed they sought refuge in that night. A purely selfish motive, yet they both reaped the benefits. And after that first time, they’d be crazy not to do it again. 

Location aside, their office jaunts are a bit different than how they usually do it--though, thankfully, it has the same ending. When they are alone--alone alone, without the arousing threat of someone walking in on their little deviation from investigation--Scully unleashes. Her role as the long-suffering woman in a patriarchal sector is swapped for one a little more...dominant, and Mulder enjoys being at her behest. 

But in the office, she gives herself over to him. Her want is so overpowering that it needs to be smothered before the flame sets everything around her alight. 

And now he’s got her shirt unbuttoned down to her belly button, his lips switching eagerly between the plush where her breasts curve over her bra (black lace--she must have known what was in store when she got dressed this morning) and the metal ring in her navel. She’s had it since she was eighteen, but only started wearing it again because Mulder’s eyes popped out of his head the one night she put it in on a whim. 

He kisses a path from her navel to her sternum, pulling the straps of her bra off her shoulders and locking his mouth around her pert left nipple. Her heartbeat pulses against his nose. 

“Mulder…” she writhes under him, trying to maintain her dignity for as long as possible. Her fingernails scratch through his button-up. 

“C’mon baby, cum for me,” he murmurs into her skin. “I want the whole building to hear you, I want them to know how good I make you feel.”

He never gets to be this cocky when she’s in control, so he takes advantage of it while he can. He takes one hand off her collarbone to wrap her legs around his hips. The friction between them is almost unbearable.

He pulls his hips back, nearly exiting her entirely, then rolls forward in a smooth motion. Scully lets out a shriek, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Before it can make it, Mulder grabs her wrist.

“No, no, no,” he taunts, pinning that wrist above her head, still thrusting into her. “And don’t even try the other hand, or it’ll go there too.”

She careens her fingernails into his back in protest. He chuckles and catches her bottom lip between his, sucking on it like he’s got to remove poison to save her life. She moans into his mouth. 

He rubs circles over her left areola with his free thumb. Her moaning intensifies. “Mulder...please…” she gasps as they come up for air. 

He moves to the right areola. “Here?” 

She trembles beneath him. He knows exactly what she wants but he’s too caught up to give it away so quickly. 

“Here?” He says, rubbing circles over her navel. She bites down on his bottom lip to shut him up.

He drags his finger down, down, down, until he’s between her legs. He swipes her clit, and she bucks up into him, whimpering.

“Oh, there?” he teases, nuzzling her neck. He continues massaging circles over her, and he feels her muscles tense beneath him. 

“Oh, fuck…��� she breathes. He lets go of her wrist, and it joins the other on his back. She claws into him, her entire being shrinking around him…

He sucks in a breath as it hits, the sensation reverberating between them and making it impossible to distinguish their orgasms from each other. 

“Fuck! Fox! Fuck!” Scully screams in spite of herself. Mulder keeps her pressed to him so she can feel his every crest. She squeaks and whimpers as she rides out their bliss. For once, she’s glad they’re sequestered in the basement. 

When it’s over (somehow time froze and sped up all in one), Mulder slides out of her and rolls onto his back. He watches as her chest rises and falls, and god, he’s never loved a woman or a moment so much. 

He zips up as she, still lying flat against the desk, begins to button her shirt. 

“Working hard, or hardly working?” he quips, waiting for his breath to catch back up with him. 

Scully sputters out a laugh and rolls onto her side, her lips caressing his. She squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

He chuckles. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

“I’m imagining a crystal ball showing me that the first time I walked into this room,” Scully giggles. 

“You wouldn’t have believed it?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“Well, all it took was seven years of my gentlemanly courting…”

“...and here we are,” Scully finishes with a smile.

She’s quiet for a moment, then she sits up, prompting Mulder to follow. “Could you have imagined that?” she asks coyly, swinging her legs. 

“That I’d be fucking you senseless on my desk in seven years?”

Scully makes a face. “Yeah.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that I saw it coming, but nothing’s ever out of the realm of extreme possibility…” he says with a goofy smirk. 

Scully straightens out her skirt. She’s taken to wearing one to the office these days, it makes such exchanges go a lot smoother. 

“Had you ever fantasized about it?” she asks, the flirtatious glimmer still in her eyes.

“About you, or doing it on the desk?”

“Both.”

“Well, yes, but I tended not to dwell on the desk so much. That was always more of Diana’s thing.”

Scully looks at him with a start. “You and Diana?...On the desk?”

“It wasn’t a frequent thing like with us. I think we did it maybe once or twice.” And then, with a smirk--”She wasn’t as insatiable as you.”

Scully frowns, and he taps her playfully, relieving her woes. “I’m just kidding. She was notoriously hard to please. And I didn’t find table-surfing very sexy then. It was actually more of a chore. Always her idea.”

“Well, this was my idea too.”

He looks at her with dopey eyes. “Scully, I’ve been ready to take you anywhere anytime since I realized you’ll have me.”

“But do you not like it?” she asks, concern growing in her voice. She tugs at her clothes self-consciously.

He kisses her temple. “Oh, it was so hot. So good. I should be thanking you for even laying eyes on me.”

She gazes at him with a half-smile, not quite convinced. He rests his chin on her shoulder. “Do you have any idea what a middle finger it is to everyone who's ever called me Spooky when you scream my name and it echoes off the walls of this office?”

“Well, now that I know I’m not the first…”

“But you are the last,” he assures her. “And you know what?” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’ve never echoed anyone’s name off the walls of this office.”

Now he’s got her attention. “Really?”

He nods. “Some people don’t give a damn about reciprocity,” he growls, throwing shade where it’s warranted. 

“But I do,” Scully coos. 

“I know you do,” he swoons. His lips meet her neck with a vengeance. He wants his presence to be known to all.

She basks in it for a moment, then--remembering herself--places a hand on his chest and leans away. “Good things come to those who wait,” she says cryptically. 

She hops off the desk and turns back to him with a fiery glare. “Tomorrow I’m going to bend you over that desk until you forget your own name and it’s all you can do to scream mine over and over,” she purrs. 

He licks his lips. “A friend of mine once said ‘eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we may die.’” 

She smirks. “That friend isn’t exactly following the advice of the Bible at the moment.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She sneaks over to him and stands on her tip-toes to meet his lips. He grasps her waist and breathes her in. “I love you, Daaannna.” He drags it out in a sappy way. 

Scully smiles up at him. “Love you too.” She sighs. “I mean, I love you, Fox.”

Their eyes meet, creating new universes. And so it shall be. 

[slater-later]

Wet Dreams

Clarence (True Romance) x Elvis Presley Smut

Hi Guys,

This is: 18+ with some heavy smut

This is a bit of a rough fic, so please feel free to skip to wherever you want to go! I’m rusty.

____

Clarence has the hots for the King of Rock N’ Roll and his naughty brain has a few ideas of his own.

(Note: O’Connors is a fictional horse racing bar in downtown Detroit. You can get bar grub, place bets, and get shit-faced. It’s an Irish pub from an earlier True Romance fic.)

Maybe it was the couple of beers Clarence had drunk or the couple of hours he had spent, laying down on his couch, sifting through old comic books. At least, that’s how it started. The warmth of beer, and the quiet peace of a lazy Sunday afternoon, had him craving for more refined tastes. 

He sifted through his collection of gay porn magazines. They were up on the shelf with his collection of comics. Once he found a good one, he plopped back down. Yanking his jeans down and freeing his hardening cock.

He sifted through the pages and pages of men, hunky and muscular, pushing the other over. They were desperate to shed every inch of clothing they had off of their bodies. Trying to get a taste of each other, from all ends.

His favorites were the gritty pictures of them fucking, desperate and needy, and reveling in the pleasure of each other. Doesn’t every man love an attentive lover, with his between your thighs, doing the good lord's work..?

There was that, and the photographs of big, ready holes. Ready and primed to be consumed by an awaiting partner. Back arched, posed on all fours, head turned and starving for a kiss. Clarence would be hard-pressed to admit it, but in the heat of the moment, he’d love being the one to fuck the shit out of it. He wished it, huffing as he beat his meat to the um-fteen time. It was his favorite pose. He liked to think about how his dick would feel, being wrapped around and being consumed by such sweet heat. He’d sputter a line of curses as he topped him, working slow and reaching over the others' body as he topped him. 

Yearning for the intimacy of the love he really wanted. And the sin, to the hell to sin, and to the Hell of pleasure.

Perfume always smells sweet, but musk is intoxicating. 

Now, he always had a thing for chicks. He loved a good broad with big tits, a fat ass, a lady who knew her shit. But, sometimes, well! It wouldn’t quite do it for him. He had a scratch, he needed to itch and had a longing for different kinds of pleasure. 

He had a favorite one in mind. A face of a man that would bubble in his mind and follow him in his dreams. Quick to come, fast to linger, and he was always, begging, for more.

~~~~

Clarence had learned at an early age he was bisexual. It was something he enjoyed exploring, particularly at nightclubs. There, there was no need for words. No explanation was needed or needed to define who he was. He was himself. A person amongst the sea of people and living in the moment. 

When he felt bold, he would tap a man on the shoulder and ask him to dance. Lean over to his ear and flash him a compliment before he solicited his offer.

It was easier the drunker he got. That’s how it started, at first. It took him some time to adjust. To build up the nerve to ask with only a few beers in him. Lightly buzzing and clear of mind to not get himself in too much trouble and thick in the good stuff.

It wasn’t an every-weekend kind of thing. He wasn’t one to fancy the nightclubs in Detroit. But once in a while, in a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, he was needy. He was sick of tending to himself.

So far, he hadn’t had that much luck. Spending nights at O’Connor’s with a beer in hand, chatting up lads in the corner booth, and whispering naughty words into his ear hadn’t worked out too well. They kept on taking his flirting as passing play. He was fun for now, but in the moment, they were reluctant to go home with him.

The comic book store wasn’t much better. He had to be sleuthy.

You only live once! And experiences had to be had. It was part of growing up, ya know?

And, anyway, if he scored out and got a guy to dance with him, he was thrilled! He liked the electric play of bodies as they dance, grazing as they turned to the thrum of the speakers. In a way, it crashed out the world around them. And somehow, he would find himself, engulfed by the lips of his dance partner. His hand in their hand, as they pulled each other close. Aching for more… 

The silence in his apartment felt loud once they left. The sound of life turned up when you get so close to having something you want. 

And it walks right out the door.

As many smokes he would have that morning, it wouldn’t rub away the frustration with his morning cereal. Forking it into his mouth and he rewound the tapes and wondered, what went wrong? Why can’t he, find someone, and keep them?

****

But one of the constants in Clarence’s life was his love for Elvis. Infatuation, really. He adored the man and his music, he did make really great music. He loved the flashy outfits and the jirraiting hips. 

The music wasn’t what got him, but Elvis’s quiet, gentlemanly demeanor. Clarence wished he could step too with Elvis himself, grinning ear to ear, as they sang. Maybe even be dipped, as the King drawled, to the gentle ballad of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” as the church bells rang.

Elvis was a man of music, of class, of romance, and of utmost respect. A sweet gentleman like that, deserves to be treasured, am I right?

*** Dream World Clarence ****

He stepped foggily forward, his body carrying amidst the dim lighting and sea of liquid bodies. Dancing with the poll, sliding themselves against the cold hard metal as they slowly stripped off the last bits of their remaining clothing, to the delight of the entranced crowd. It was a sea of people, sitting around small tables while they sipped their drinks, eyes locked on the beauty as they spun around, locked into the music and swinging their beautiful jewels into the air.

It was finely dirty but a respectable joint. The one that is kinda seedy but with enough self-respect and decently to know what they gotta do, do it well, and not give many shits about the rest. If it ain’t broke, why fix it? The room was packed.

Clarence's feet carried him towards the back, eyes scanning the room as if it eats the room. To know every inch around him, as if, to ground the world around him before it fell apart.

A drunk fella bumped by him, Western boots clacking as he caught himself from having a tumble. He straightened himself up, fixing his white cowboy hat back into place with a face, quickly wiping off something funny on his thick mustache. Clarence caught a good look at him, as the man stepped away, locking eyes with for a moment, as he sucked the residue off his fingers. A turquoise bolo tie hanging around his neck.

Clarence guided himself to the restroom, a few men stepping from the bathroom together looking flushed. He was in a haze, a fog, where he left to the devices of his own body. Carrying him where it pleased, where his subconscious, desired.

He pressed his hand against the door and it swung open- revealing a line of urinals and a few stalls. A tall, tan man was relieving himself. Dressed in black, with his medium-length hair pushed back with what had to of been a hand full palm of product. 

He stepped over to the urinal, a stall between them, and popped open his pants. Pulling down his underwear to expose himself, and began relieving himself into the urinal. 

The other man began humming a soft tune, tapping his foot as he glanced off his shoulder, catching a look at our friend Clarence. And liked what he saw…

His plump, pouty lips softly coed~

“~I'm a steamroller baby~ I'm 'bout to roll all over you”

Clarence’s head spun so fast at the man that it could have fallen right off. Those words- that drawling tone- were unmistakable to his ears. A cocky smirk lit up his face, as he zipped himself back up. Turning and following the man as they both went to the sink.

Elvis smiled, grabbing some soap and washing off his hands, smiling as he softly sang.

“~I'm a steamroller baby~ I'm 'bout to roll all over you~”

“Presley-?” The lips hung off his lips in a whisper, his eyes locked with the man as Clarence rinsed off his hands. Watching the other dry off, whipping a hand through his hair and popped his raised collar.

“I'm gonna inject your soul~With some sweet rock 'n' roll~

Presley stepped closer to him, still holding that wicked smirk on the man as they faced each other.

Clarence’s voice joined his, watching as Presley ran a finger along the edge of his coat’s zipper. Pulling it softly open, Presley’s eyes on his finger as he inspected him. Eyes slipping to the golden shades tucked into the hem of his white undershirt. His pink Hawaiian shirt open, as his hand slipped up underneath it. Fingertips brushing against his skin, Clarence’s skin shivering in delight. Stepping closer, into his touch. As the hand slipped higher, and around his hips, Clarence was pulled close.

Clarence’s head felt loose, drawn by the love he had fawned over for years. He didn’t want to let this go- to let this opportunity slip through his hands.

He grabbed Elvis’s jaw and pressed a hot kiss to Elvis’s lips. His hips were pulled hard against him, as they locked with smiles on their face.

Their words joined with a booming backup band as they sang, the fingers of a devil dancin’ away. “I'm a cement mixer~ A churning urn of burning funk~!”

“I'm a cement mixer~A churning urn of burning funk~ I'm a demolition derby~ A hefty hunk, steaming junk”

Clarence laughed into Elvis’s mouth, and they began to dance. Hips swaying as their fingers locked, shoes tapping to the drum of a blues guitar and thump of a steady drum. Elvis plucked Clarence’s gold sunglasses from his shirt, slipping them over his eyes.

“I'm a steamroller baby~ I'm 'bout to roll all over you~ I'm a steamroller baby~ I'm 'bout to roll all over you~ I'm gonna inject your soul~ With some sweet rock 'n' roll~ And shoot you full of rhythm and blues,” Clarence laughed as he twisted around, being spun into the air before being yanked into the arms of Elvis. Hips locked as they swayed and grounded, voices ringing out!

“I'm a napalm bomb~ Guaranteed to blow your mind~ I'm a napalm bomb~ Guaranteed to blow your mind~! If I can't have your love now baby~ There won't be nothing left behind~!” 

Clarence twisted around to face Presley, hooking his arm around his neck and bringing him down to kiss him. 

The two quickly unfurled into a mess, Clarence being scooped up and thrown against the sink counter as the other pushed off Elvis’s white suit jacket as their lips crashed. Wiggling off Clarence’s pants down to his ankles as hot, velvety kisses were pushed to his neck. A hand in the other’s thick black hair as his mouth slipped down to his prize, Clarence’s head spun. Finally having his sweet dreams come true- having dirty and hot sex with the King himself.

He would bottom and desperately hold onto the memory. He didn’t want his dream to end wanting to finish- to feel his soft worn hands against his body- and cursed himself when he awoke. The gay porn mag slipping off his face as he stirred. Eyes foggily flickering as he shifted to grasp himself fully. He slowly stroked his dripping cock, and huffed as he threw his face into the cushion. Shutting his eyes, and trying to conjure up the fever dream.

To lose himself, in his lust.

It would take him long. Quickly cumming with a hard crash, his back arched and knees bent towards himself as he jerked. He came over his chest, splashing a few drops on his face. Slipping his tongue out, and opening his mouth, imagining that it was the others’ sperm as he gulped it down. 

Finding himself deeply satisfied, and relieved, in his journey. 

Clarence collects magazines with Presley’s centerfolds and interviews. Had a couple of tapes of him and particularly his concert in the ’70s while he was in Hawaii. His father introduced him to Elvis and he’s enjoyed his music ever since.

Totally collects his records. Has them framed up on display in his apartment- an Elvis shrine. 

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Mask of Death - Ashes and Embers

I’m reworking and retooling some of the older installments of tMoD with better grammar, and presentation, and this is still one of my favourite chapters of the series I have penned so far. Thus, I’m sharing it with you again, it might even be completely fresh to some of you. Link to full series is in the bottom notes!

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

Captain TL-440 - often called Teel for short - had never seen the man quite like this. It was an awe inducing sight, a sobering reminder of the fact that despite his Force powers; Vader was just as mortal as the rest of them.

Some people would believe Vader was nothing but an expertly crafted droid; that he was unbreakable and unstoppable. That he had no heart, no humanity, no soul. Teel knew better. Especially now, as the dust settled on the carnage of the battlefield. The air was polluted by thick black smoke, fire scorching what was left of blown up AT-AT:s, shuttles and speeder bikes. Bodies were everywhere. Some familiar squad members perished in the brutal fight. Some rebels with their uncovered faces locked in perpetual terror.

Teel himself had come out fairly unscathed. He’d been assigned to a defensive position at the back, rather than the usual offensive front. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t see any traces of the commander who had executed the order to advance. Sure, Teel was very aware of the fact somebody had figured it’d be a good idea to stab a vibro-blade into his side. It stung like a bitch, but it wouldn’t kill him.

Unlike several of his fellow troopers, who laid strewn about all around him in bits and pieces, Teel would heal. The gaping holes in his comrades chests were disheartening; their missing limbs impossible to relocate. He could hear someone coughing in the distance; the hacking gulps of dying man suffocating on his own blood.

In the beginning, the aftermath of battle had made Teel sick. Overwhelmed by nausea, cold sweat had wet his forehead. Sometimes he’d found himself throwing up, wondering how he was ever going to get used to the sight of his friends torn to shreds. These days, after all carnage he had witnessed, Teel felt little more than pity for his fallen peers. Pity for the poor bastards who weren’t lucky enough to get a swift shot to the head.

How many survivors were there, even?

Teel had counted ten plus two so far.

Was that it?

They had been a thousand men strong when they left the cruiser for the DX transport shuttle. The officers and admirals paid them little attention at any given time, thinking them to be disposable and easily replaced. Teel despised the stuck up, spoilt Imperial overheads; despised them and how little regard they had for their subordinates. Vader was different. Vader had always been different.

Vader was on their side, Teel had realized early on. Vader fought alongside them, got down in the trenches and trudged without complaint through the warzone. He was often up ahead, leading the troops on by inspiring them. Vader seemed fearless, pressing on and never faltering. Never wavering. It was no secret that Vader shared the same contempt towards the Moffs who preferred to sit in their pampered palaces and beach houses as Teel and his men did. The high society would be sipping wine as their slaves saw to their needs while their troops were mowed down by enemy Rebellion forces. Vader, for all that he was, seemed to accept the soldiers as self serving individuals. Vader seemed to recognize that they were people, and even seemed to respect some of them.

Teel himself had done battle alongside Vader enough times, that he knew that they both appreciated the other’s efforts. That’s what made him dare to approach Vader in this moment. While the rest of the surviving squad members withdrew in retreat, keeping their distance out of fear, Teel persisted. He knew as well as his comrades that in this state, Vader may be lethal even to his own men.

Still, the captain had faith in the only man of the Imperial army who would dare gamble with his own life alongside theirs. The man who was - despite what governor Tarkin and his fellowship might think - second only to the Emperor in power. Highest command; and yet here he was, on the bottom of the ladder fighting beside the ground forces.

Vader’s majestic cape was in tatters. Not much remained of it; gaping still sizzling holes left by blaster shots and vibro-blade slices lining the ruined fabric. Vader's boots were caked with mud and drying blood, shrapnel digging into the shin guards. Wires hung exposed from his chest monitor; electrical bolts sparking on and off in uneven intervals. His hands were curled into tight fists, one of which still clutching the hilt of his crimson light saber - he other exposed for what it was; cybernetics and metallic prosthetics. The man's chest armour was cracked; his robes in ragged shambles.

But there was one thing that Teel noted above all as unusual. Among the embers of charred bodies, and fizzling equipment; he noted the tear in the side of Vader’s bodysuit. But above, he spotted blood. Deep red, humanoid blood soaking through Vader’s clothing; through the left side of his upper torso.

What more, beneath the mass of torn fabric and red smudges there was skin. Deathly pale skin, injured human flesh. Teel didn’t comment on it, but simply watched in amazed silence. He listened to the still rhythmical, still steady breathing mechanism of Vader's. It was a small wonder that that seemed to have taken miniscule damage.

“Are you ready to retreat, Lord Vader?” Teal finally allowed himself to ask.

“In a moment.”

Vader’s booming vocals were as imposing as ever, an undercurrent of suspicion and wariness seeping through the deep bark. Teel relied on his judgment, he knew Vader’s powers as a Force wielder granted him almost superhuman senses and prowess. It had helped save their lives when traditional tactics failed several times in the past.

Still, Teel let his dark eyes hidden behind the visor of his own helmet linger on the oozing, dark blood. Vader was merely a mortal man. Mighty, unstoppable like a hurricane. But then more than ever, the thought that Vader could die crept up on Teel. Vader could be bested and defeated. He didn’t want to dwell on that scenario. Instead, the captain waited patiently beside the dark, towering figure.

Vader appeared focused on something far off in the distance, standing perfectly still as if he hadn’t even noticed he’d been injured. As if he was unaware of the fact that he was bleeding rather heavily. As if he had no clue that he was wounded,and battered, and bruised, and probably needed a pretty good repair job done on both his suit and his body. The deep gashes in his chest piece just above the wound bore telltale scratches created by vibro blades. And direct blaster fire hits. Smudges of ashes, and dust, and mud linger along the indentations. Meanwhile, dark blood lazily making its way down towards the exposed cybernetic arm in a steady stream; the crimson fluid clinging to mechanic silver making for a jarring contrast.

“Whatever survivors there are have departed. They have lost more men than we have,” said Vader finally; tone meticulous.

Now that was a good omen.

Vader never seemed to care for his own safety, always seemed to want to get the job done no matter the cost. Still, Teel figured that even Vader must be feeling the exhaustion, the fatigue, and the pain of his injuries as soon as the adrenaline rush of combat wore off. He didn’t doubt that Vader could have gone on for far longer, had another wave of rebels attacked; but Teel still released a heavy sigh of relief. There was always a possible what if scenario, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of trudging on without Vader at the helm.

Slowly, Vader began to turn his back on the setting sun ahead; as the crackling flames little by little became the only light in the dark of early nightfall. Switching off his light saber to clip it to his belt he stood tall, not as much as a limp to his step. Perhaps Vader's movements somewhat sluggish when compared to his usual gait, but otherwise he came across as resolute as ever.

Teel watched Vader pause and bring his gloved fingers up towards the thoroughly soaked side of what remained of his robes and chest piece. The captain watched him withdraw his hand, the stench tang of iron and scorched flesh thick in the air. Its sickly aroma was coming from everywhere around them; from the tattered and dismembered corpses. Vader’s hand came back drenched in blood as it withdrew; and the man appeared to contemplate something as he studied it.

“It appears you will be sleeping in your own bunk tonight.”

It was then that Vader finally turned to face Teel head on, and the stormtrooper had to fight back a gasp of shock, biting back the startled noise that wanted to slip out.

The entire left side of Vader’s face plate was mangled, misshapen and cracked. What lay beneath was now exposed as the lense of the same side had shattered and fallen out. The deathly pale, twisted and scarred flesh Vader's torso had displayed carried over to his face. The features were grim and distorted, little more than shadows in the dark of night; but the fires all around cast just enough light to reveal an eye.

One single, deep set ember eye.

The eye was bloodshot, its socket hollowed, and dark rimmed, and sunken. Light reflected off of it like a predator stalking its unwitting prey in the early morning hours. Teel almost believed the eye was generating its own light, and glowing all on its own.

“Yes, milord,” he finally managed to choke out, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement and obedience.

The single burning golden eye fixed his gaze, even through the visor Teel felt it bore pry itself deep into his conscious mind. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He was suddenly freezing, despite the heat of the furnace the battle field had turned into, and the many flames in the close proximity. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end; his fingertips going inexplicably numb. How many men had seen Vader unmasked and lived to tell the tale? Teel feared he may have brought ruin onto himself by simple exposure.

Then, the glowing eye broke the stare and with it, the stalemate. Its attention shifted to cast one final glance behind them.

“How many survivors have you accounted for?”

“Twelve, milord,” Teel responded, mostly on autopilot.

“Very well. Round them up and bring them back to the hangar bay.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

For a brief tense moment; their eyes met once more and the piercing golden iris made Teel’s stomach sink with dread seemed to convey an unspoken warning. Feeling a freezing cold chill pass through his very bones, the soldier nodded and complied with its demand. He was never to speak of what he had seen.

"I expect you to handle your promotion better than your predecessor, commander."

Then, Vader simply turned on his heel and began to make his way back towards the landing site. Perhaps, there was a tiny wobble to his steps? Teel squinted but couldn’t say for sure, and it took him longer than it should to realize Vader had just made him the new commander. The responsibility was more than he had grown accustomed to, but he would never refuse or question Vader's decisions.

Perhaps his concern was unfounded, but he deliberately remained a few paces behind Vader as they walked. Just in case.

Then again Teel thought, as he the look in that one exposed eye remained superimposed onto his inner vision; that one eye only added to the mystery of Vader. The sense of dread it had inspired within seconds, that was not human.

Vader may bleed, but he had the eyes of a beast.

---------

The Mask of Death chapter index:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/navigate

[amythedvdhoarder]

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard​

8th of June prompt: A bloody knife

Summary: Your romantic dinner plans don’t quite go to plan

Warnings: Minor injury detail, swearing and fluff

Word count: 1.3K

Authors note: GIF not mine. The writing challenge continues so does the Bucky fluff. Please let me know what you think! If you want tagging you know what to do. Enjoy!

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

Your hips swayed to the music blasting through your headphones. The communal kitchen was empty so you really went for it, signing along with the song loudly without the fear of being overheard. The whole team was out on a mission; you were a data analyst for Tony which left you alone in this part of the compound. So, you kept yourself occupied preparing dinner for when your boyfriend, Bucky, returned. He had text you a couple of hours ago with an ETA. You had immediately sprung into action; planning a nice evening in for when he returned. Bucky liked to unwind when he got back from missions. This usually consisted of some dinner with you away from the rest of the team and chatting about what you had been up to whilst he was away.  Followed by an evening in bed, curled up against Bucky’s chest. More often than not, the black and white movie you had put on, would be forgotten about as hands would begin to roam as you became reacquainted with each other.

You and Bucky had been together for 18 months now and you couldn’t remember ever being happier. When he joined the team, you had been tasked with taking him through all the files Tony had collected on the winter soldier over the years. It had been difficult for Bucky to look back over these, he wanted to learn as much as he could but it was painful for him to fill in the blanks of the last 70 years of his life. You had supported him through the anger, disgust, guilt and self-loathing he felt as his uncovered his past. By the end of the few weeks Bucky felt as if you knew him better than anyone, except Steve of course. In those few short weeks he had opened up, and exposed you to the true Bucky Barnes. At first, he only spoke when he needed help but after seeing that you weren’t repulsed by him, by who he had been, by what he had done, he softened; asking you about your day, bringing you a latte in the morning and eventually asking you on a date.

Bucky thought of himself as one of the luckiest people alive. Sure, he had been through a lot but now he had you. The kind, bright and intelligent woman who saw past his time as the winter soldier, to the man he was. He spent every morning when he woke looking at your sleeping form, still not quite believing you were real or that someone like you loved him. When he went away on a mission he missed you. He missed you so much that it felt as if there was a weight in his chest, which only eased on the journey back to you. He could feel the weight leaving him now as the compound came into view from the quinjet. Excitement bubbled within him, he pictured you smile when you saw him, a grin forming on his own lips. He couldn’t wait to wrap you in his arms pulling you close and not letting go until he had kissed every perfect inch of your face. He practically ran off the jet towards to living quarters, earning a chuckle from his best friend. Steve had seen Bucky infatuated with many women over the years, but he had never seen his friend in love.

Bucky headed to the apartment first, hoping to find you but you weren’t there. So, he quickly showered and changed before heading off in search for you. He heard your singing before spotting you in the corner of the kitchen, your attention on something he couldn’t see. He stood for a minute, enjoying the view of your jean clad ass swinging side to side to a rhythm he couldn’t here. A grin plastered to his face as he crept up behind and grabbed your waist.

You screamed as a pair of strong hands grabbed your waist from behind. A bloody knife clattered to the floor. Ripping your headphones from your ears you turned around to find your attacker. A sharp stinging pain in your hand made you look down at it. Warm blood was trickling from the wound on your hand. You blinked a couple of times and then the world went black “Shit, doll. It’s me, I’m sorry. Y/N?.” Your eyes fluttered open to find concerned blue eyes searching yours. You realised you were on the floor, resting in Bucky’s arms. The sight of blood made you faint, he must have caught you before you hit the floor. You tried to sit up but Bucky held you down. “Whoa, take it easy Y/N. Let me look at that hand. His fingers lifted your hand towards him for inspection, you shut your eyes tight not wanting to catch a glimpse of the blood. “I’m going to have to stitch this up.” Panic filled your chest “No, no, it’ll be fine. Just need a bandage or something” your voice wobbled as you tried to protest, you turned to look at him shaking your head. “Not going to argue about it doll, need to close it up to stop you getting an infection.” He placed a gentle kiss to your head then shifted behind you and pulled his t-shirt off, wrapping it tightly around your hand. He hooked his metal arm behind your knees and lifted you up to his bare chest, carrying you out of the kitchen towards your ensuite. “I could have walked you know?” you mumbled against his chest. “Y/N, you just fainted. Not taking any more chances.” You rolled your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

Bucky sat you on the sat you on the vanity unit next to the sink and grabbed the first aid box he had stored for himself after missions. He swiped his thumb over your cheek and kissed your forehead before unwrapped the t-shirt from your hand. You looked away as he started cleaning the gash on your hand. “I’m going to give you something to numb it a little bit now, Ok?” Words wouldn’t come out of your mouth so you nodded slightly. A sharp scratch later and with the pain lessoned, Bucky got to work stitching up the cut. “All done” he said triumphantly. You looked down and saw the delicate stitches on your hand. You swayed slightly at the sight. Bucky immediately had his arms on your shoulders holding you upright “Maybe don’t look at that Y/N” he chuckled softly. He picked you up and took you though to the bedroom, laying you on the bed. He pulled a clean t-shirt on a turned to you “back in a minute”.

Five minutes later he returned with two cups of hot chocolate and some biscuits. As you sipped at the drink you started to feel normal again. “Not quite the dinner plans I had.” Bucky turned to look at you, you could tell by his face that he felt guilty. “Y/N” he put his drink down and took your injured hand in his, carefully avoiding the stiches. “I didn’t realise you would be chopping something, I am so sorry. I just wanted to surprise you. I missed you.” He looked down at the covers and let go of your hand. “Bucky, it’s ok. Accidents happen.” He didn’t move. You turned to put your drink down and shifted over so you were pressed up against him, your hand running through his short hair. His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. As you placed a kiss on his cheek, he turned to captured yours in a delicate kiss. “I missed you too” you whispered against his lips.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Musical Tryouts (1/31/2021)

Please pretend I posted this chat log a month and a half ago when it actually happened, sob.

Valera @autokrates is leaving an audition for Hell’s first production of Hamilton, and runs into Alastor, waiting for his turn to audition. They hang out and chat until it’s his turn—which marks the first time in forever they’ve had a full conversation that wasn’t Incredibly Awkward the whole way through. Hooray for progress.

Chronologically, this chat log happened between this (note: art of extremely hilarious outfit) and this (note: art of another hilarious outfit)

Alastor

Alastor hasn’t auditioned for a show since the seventies, and hasn’t auditioned and *cared* about it in almost a century. He’d like to think he doesn’t look nervous, but he knows he’s reread his typewritten lyrics about a hundred times and every couple of minutes he catches his leg bouncing again. That’s fine, he’s in disguise, he isn’t supposed to look like himself anyway. He can look a little nervous.

When he realizes he’s more staring a hole through his pages than actually reading them, he forces himself to lift his head, slouches back in his cheap metal chair, and looks around the makeshift backstage waiting room. Maybe he can figure out if anyone else is trying for his parts, drag them into the back alley, and mangle them. It would defeat the purpose of showing up in disguise, but it would burn some nervous energy, and anyway he’s already seen one would-be Angelica pin another down and slit her throat. His gaze scans over the other hopeful actors.

Valera

From the stage comes the muffled sound of someone singing, as expected. But the singing gets louder as the voice approaches the door, and it certainly sounds like Not A Musical Number. It sounds a lot more like someone who needed to be accompanied by someone torturing a piano with a series of small hammers. Was that a Will Wood number? Why yes, yes it was!

Through the curtains and round the corner comes the fish supreme, bedecked in enough frills and frippery to lose an orphan in with their 18th century french fashion, belting out lines from I/Me/Myself as they saunter towards the exit with barely a glance for the other hopefuls waiting for their call. Barely a glance at all, until their eyes land on Alastor. Then their jaunty tune is cut off with an uncanny impression of a record scratch crossed with a chicken being strangled, head whipping around for a double take as they freeze mid stride. Holy fuck what was he WEARING???

Alastor

Alastor’s ears threatened to perk up beneath his temporarily shapeshifted hair at the sound of a very familiar and very beloved song from another performer—he’d almost considered performing that one himself, God was he lucky he’d decided to go with “Modern Major General”—and he turned to see who it was with the spectacular taste in music—

“Valera?!” What the hell was Valera doing at a musical audition in Hell?

Valera

It WAS Alastor! They KNEW it! They gasp, pointing at him as their eyes boggle. "Al--" And just as quickly, a hand is clapped over their own mouth, teeth clicking as they clamp their mouth shut. Okay, try that again, *without* ruining his disguise.

They stride over to where he's sitting, leaning in slightly before hissing. "What are you WEARING?"

Alastor

Alastor plays the sound of something crashing over when Valera starts to say his name—the other waiting performers look around to see which props just toppled over—and hops out of his seat to meet Valera in the middle when they approach him. “Do *not* expose me,” he hisses, flinging an arm around Valera’s shoulders. “Nobody here knows I’m the Radio Demon and if this is going to work, nobody *can* know.”

Then he looks down at his own outfit. “A disguise.” Obviously. “I asked my listeners, ‘What’s the last thing you’d ever expect me to wear?’”

Valera

Oh, great, he's touching them AND he's already mad at them for something they'd already avoided. This seemed like par for the course, might as well get through this as painlessly as possible. Valera's face tightens into a stiff little smile, stomach already twisting into knots. "I've got no plans of exposing you, it would be a shame to ruin the work you put into your... outfit."

A slow exhale from the nose, and they force their shoulders to relax. Can't have the other actors see the two of them at odds, they're clearly just a couple of friends running into each other! A funny coincidence! Their voice raises back to a normal speaking tone, all sunshine and cheer as they give Alastor a pat on the back that falls short of actually touching him. "I take it you're here to audition for a part, then?"

Alastor

Alastor wheezes a near-silent laugh. “Isn’t it hideous?” he whispers. “You should see what the full leggings look like, they’re horrible.”

He lets go and steps back. “I am! I was seized by a wild burst of inspiration, and auditions happened before that inspiration ran out. I take it you... *already* auditioned.” Which raises a whole slew of questions, but Alastor starts with the most important one: “Which part?”

Valera

Valera sends up a silent prayer of thanks to any God listening, hands folding behind their back as they admire Alastor's grotesque attire. "Unfortunately, I kind of love it. It's vile, but with a few tweaks it could be a genuinely good outfit."

They clear their throat at his latter question, rolling back on the heels of their new shoes. "Washington. I didn't come to Hell today expecting to audition for anything, I was just here buying shoes. But I heard music, saw the theater, decided to pop in and see what was going on. And hey, why not try out? Didn't expect to run into you of all people."

Alastor

A little tension drains out of his shoulders at the answer. He glances down to idly check out Valera’s new shoes. “Oh, good! I don’t have to duel you for a part.” He almost instinctively starts playing a snip from ��Ten Duel Commandments” to underline the comment, but catches himself. He is, after all, trying not to blow his cover—he’s even consciously suppressing the radio distortion to his voice, he nearly sounds like a normal person. “The feeling’s *entirely* mutual. You’re about the last person I’d expect to try out for a show around here, so far from home!”

And he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He’s been trying to avoid talking to Valera—can’t get in trouble after interacting with them if they *don’t* interact, can he?—and now here he is doing the opposite of that... but they haven’t started another stupid argument. Yet. “What are you doing if you actually get the part? You’re committing to being in Pentagram City on a near daily basis for—goodness, months at least!”

Valera

They don't know how they feel about seeing him here either. It went from being a fun little spur of the moment tryout before icecream into an UNEXPECTED INTERACTION with A PERSON THEY DON'T KNOW WELL. But no, they have to tamp down on the urge to make their excuses and leave, things would never improve between them if Valera did nothing but avoid him after all.

"IF I get the part! I haven't been in a production in years, I'm rusty compared to plenty of the actors here today, I'm sure." A hand waves, lazy and dismissive. "But if I do pull it off, I've been planning on spending more time in Hell anyway. This is just a convenient excuse."

Alastor

“Hah, I haven’t tried out for a show since—well, since before you were born.” And then, he’d just been doing it as a lark, too—something to attempt to keep his mind occupied. He hadn’t actually *wanted* to be in a production this badly since he lived in New York, before he gave up on making it on Broadway and went into radio. “But how many of *them* can launch into a full musical number at the drop of a hat!”

Valera

Right, it was easy to forget that Alastor was old enough to be their dad. Or Grandpa. Probably? They'd done the math at some point..

"Hatched." They correct on reflex, reaching up to fuss with the feather on their hat. "Who are you trying for? Lafayette? I could see you as a Lafayette." They're saying it because of the French, but they will NOT say that out loud.

Alastor

Great-grandpa, easily. Maybe even great-great grandpa if a few generations got early starts.

His face brightens. “Let’s hope the casting director thinks so, too! Yes, Lafayette and Jefferson—the same actor played them both in the mortal realm, why shouldn’t one person play both down here, too?”

Valera

Great-grandpa Alastor, the spryest old man in the nursing home. Eating the interns when he gets bored... That sounds like a typical older Veci actually.

They hum, looking Alastor up and down in his getup. "You'll get the part, or I'll eat this silly chapeu. I've seen the competition you're up against. They're good, don't get me wrong, but..." A vague gesture at him. "Nobody could compete!"

Alastor

"You flatter me!" All the same, he's beaming widely. "But I was hoping that would be the case, what with when they scheduled auditions. January's a bad time for, well, *most* people's schedules. I'm afraid I missed all but the tail end of your performance—spectacular choice of song, though!"

Valera

"Why thank you! Will Wood doesn't fit the show's theme in the slightest, but it certainly shows my singing chops! Though if I'd planned for this audition I might have gone with an outfit a bit less.. *French*." They grin, shimmying their enormous sleeves. Unrepentant in the slightest. "Might. I could see Washington's doughy self in this getup."

Alastor

Alastor examines Valera’s getup. Was that French? It just looked old-fashioned to him. “Well, hopefully they’re not going to judge based on fashion!” He glances pointedly down at his own outfit.

Valera

Another glance at his outfit, and they give a thumbs up. "You've got a bowtie on, you'll be fine."

Oh. Would it be a supportive friend thing to do to sit and wait for his call with him? Or would that be somehow rude? They couldn't just ask, if it *was* rude he'd probably be offended by the notion, but if it wasn't... Something bad. Probably? Maybe they're being unfair. A quick clearing of the throat, and they gesture towards the door. "Do you want to sit down? I've got time to kill before. Uh... *Mon Cerf Rouge* arrives with my ice cream."

Alastor

*Oh right*, he’s wearing *Valera’s husband’s* bow tie. His hand flies up to cover it as if that will prevent it from being identified, and he quickly forces his hand back down. “Well! I wasn’t going to show up to an audition underdressed, was I?” He laughs thinly. Don’t act suspicious it’s fine.

Is Valera hanging out with another Alastor? He wonders which one. How is it that every version of himself manages to get along with them but him? It wouldn’t be so galling if *none* of them could get along with Valera, but if it’s something he uniquely is doing wrong—no, don’t worry about that right now.

His first inclination is to turn down the offer, they’ve had a cordial conversation so far and he can’t mess it up if it ends right here; but there’s a chance they’re about to both end up in the same show, isn’t there? Polite avoidance might not be an option for long. Better get to work on getting along. “Sure! It’s a bit yet until my turn.”

Valera

What a reaction! They will politely pretend they didn't see him have a miniature panic over being seen wearing Pentious' bowtie. Far too busy inspecting their gloves, for some reason. How convenient.

Well, now they've done it, they're stuck here. Though it's surprising he accepted the offer, maybe it'll be okay? If he really wanted to avoid them he could have turned the offer down. They're probably overthinking it. A quick nod, and then they perch on the edge of a seat so their fuckoff huge tail can actually fit amidst the mounds of ruffles. On the plus side, nobody but Alastor was going to be taking the seats next to them anytime soon, unless they wanted to fight the tide of frills.

Time to.. Get along? Polite chit chat? "Is this the first production of Hamilton in Hell? It's a fairly new musical, and I know there's a bit of a delay getting things down here."

Alastor

“The very first! In fact, this production company is the one that got the first recording smuggled down from the living realm! Online there’s a few amateur recordings of recent arrivals singing the songs they remember, but so far that’s the only presence Hamilton has had in Hell. Anyone who gets in this show has an opportunity to *define* their roles in the eyes of the public.” Oh, he’s getting a little starry-eyed just thinking of it. “I suppose you’ve probably seen the original production in the mortal realm?”

Valera

"I did, though that was long before I met you or I'd have invited you along!" They're going to take the hat off, it's very silly and the feather keeps floating around in the corner of their vision. Plus, now they have something to hold in their hands so they can't start doing anything weird with them. Win win!

Alastor seems genuinely excited about this production, he'd gone through all the effort to get an outfit, come for tryouts.. And they just sauntered in on a whim. Thank the gods they weren't trying out for the same part, Valera would have had to bow out immediately. "I wonder if any of the actual founding fathers have survived long enough down here to see the show. Wouldn't *that* be something?"

Alastor

“Wouldn’t it just! I can’t think of *anything* I’d enjoy more than prancing around on stage making Jefferson look like an absolute damn fool while the real deal seethes in a front row seat!” He laughs. It’s not a terribly friendly laugh. “But I don’t know if any are down here. I don’t pay close attention to that sort of thing—and anyway, most *important* people who end up damned either find themselves on the receiving end of a deluge of assassination attempts or else change their identities fairly fast. A founding father could show up and audition to play as himself and we might not know.” A thoughtful pause. “Although I doubt any of them would get the part.”

Valera

"I'd assume they wound up here, considering the whole owning slaves and starting wars thing. Good PR post mortem doesn't absolve you of shitty behaviors in life, unfortunately." Yes. Very unfortunate. That's why they're grinning so toothily. "Imagine if we got the actual King George on the roster? Though I'd rather see Pentious try for the part, personally." There's no way George was still around, he'd gone batty enough in life that he'd probably wandered onto the nearest angelic spear first thing. But they could dream!

Alastor

“One would hope! But no one’s ever sent me the rule book on what does and doesn’t get you access upstairs, who knows for sure? I can tell you what I think *should* get you down here, but I can’t tell you with complete certainty whether or not it does.”

Oh, his eyes light up at that. “Just imagine him in the full raiment of a king! But no. Getting up on stage to have hundreds of people laugh at him for dressing and acting like royalty? He’d hate it.”

Valera

"He'd look glorious in a crown! But you're right, he'd never want a comic relief role, even if he WOULD get to sing about sending battalions after people." Alas and alack, King George ala Pentious would have to live in their dreams. But they smirk, leaning a fraction closer to Alastor to whisper. "But we might be able to get him to sing it privately, at least, and wouldn't that be lovely?"

Quickly pulling back, they cross one leg over the other and put on that cheerful grin again. "What do you think *should* qualify to send people to Hell, my fine fellow? It's a broad question, so we can skip it if you'd rather not open that can of worms."

Alastor

Wouldn’t it be lovely, indeed. He smiles uncomfortably and glances away.

“Oh, skip it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I find the topic as sanctimonious as it is futile. It may not be for *you*, perhaps—for you, it’s little more than an interesting thought experiment on alien morality—but for us? What’s the good of debating why people should be damned when we’re *already* damned? It’s not going to help us get out of Hell. God isn’t going to take our suggestions into consideration. All the topic does is make one bitter that the powers that be don’t appear to be judging people to one’s personal moral standards—or else it inspires one to assume that God *is* operating in line with one’s personal understanding of justice, and try to pigeonhole everyone one meets into the crimes one believes are worthy of damnation. I’ve run into countless people down here who *don’t know why* they’re damned—and yet they *are* damned, which means they’ve done something that *is* damnable even if they themselves don’t believe it. If people can’t understand their own sins, how can they be trusted to judge anyone else’s?”

Valera

They lean back as Alastor skips one can of worms for another, watching him as he broke down his reasoning. It was interesting, insightful, even if they didn't have much to say to him in response. He was right, after all. For them it was an alien concept, a novelty to roll around and discard when they were bored, just like so many other human notions. But not everyone was so lucky. A nod of agreement, and they flick their tail.

"You're right. My apologies, Alastor, it's easy to forget how... fortunate I am, to be in the position I'm in." A side eye at the other actors, who PROBABLY couldn't hear the conversation, but even so. "Something lighter, then. Have you had a chance to work on restoring your deathday gift yet? You did a fine job with Alexander, he's as glossy as the day you *finished* him."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s just to be expected. How many people have a chance to measure their lives up against the dead and damned, anyway? We’re not given opportunities to interact with anyone but our fellow prisoners and our jailers, and that’s by design.” He’s occasionally side-eyeing the other actors himself, but none seem to be paying attention.

“Oh—yes! Cleaned out the guts and got off the worst of the grime of age. I need to get a few cleaning supplies to finish the job, but soon the both of them will be spick and span!” Look at him beaming, the proud father. “How *is* Alexander? I wanted to talk to him while visiting your place, but his time seemed to be monopolized by someone else the whole trip!” He really did feel bad about that. He feels like he’s got something a duty to Alexander, but so far he hasn’t been able to meet it.

Valera

This was a MUCH better topic. Radios and mutual friends, much safer. They let their shoulders relax under the jacket, chirping as their fins waggle. "I'm sure they'll be as good as new by the time you're done with them, mon collègue. You'll have to show me how they come out. A beautiful antique is always twice as radiant when restored with care, and those radios were gorgeous."

Ah.. Alexander. Their face twists, a frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Alexander is.. alright, I suppose. Nothing terrible has happened, and I've been trying to work with him on his manifestations with generally mixed to positive results." They shrug, sighing through their nose. "I think he misses other humans. Or former humans, I suppose. We get along well, but he'll see something and start talking about.. Ponzi? Or his mother writing to him from the" Airquotes here as they squint "Dust Bowl?" What the fuck is a dust bowl? They don't know, it sounds like something a chinchilla would roll in. "And he loses me completely."

Alastor

“I’ll have Vaggie take pictures some time.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shoot up. “That poor man got tangled up with Ponzi *and* the dust bowl? Goodness, what an unfortunate life he lived! But you’re right, he really needs more humans to talk to, doesn’t he? I’ll—“ A pause, and then he says thoughtfully, “I’ll see whether I can contact him myself. If not, I’ll let you know and we’ll arrange a play date. If it works, though—you’ll probably hear about it from him.”

Valera

Contact Alexander himself? Valera opens their mouth to ask how, then it clicks. Right, radio to radio transmissions. Could Alastor reach radios outside of Hell? Maybe it would be easier if the radio was haunted, a bit closer to the fuzzy boundaries between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Or, Okkylk in this case. Hm.

"I'll take your word for it, I haven't got the foggiest about what either of those are. What the *devil* is a Ponzi?" They've heard "Ponzi Scheme" said in movies, but maybe it wasn't even the same Ponzi! Maybe Ponzi was a normal human thing. Like a brand, they do love their brands... "But thank you. I think he'd benefit from having more than one very alien being to talk to."

Alastor

“Charles Ponzi! A con artist! He convinced a whole slew of people to give him a mountain of money to invest in what he claimed was some post office money-making scheme and that he’d double their money in a month or two. Instead, he pocketed the money, convinced *another* slew of people to give him money for the same scheme, used that money to pay off the first wave of suckers—and rinse and repeated until he’d scammed thousands and stolen millions! Spent a few years in prison, got out and tried another scheme, got arrested in dear old New Orleans trying to flee the country! You knew you weren’t going to be bored any time he showed up in the papers!” Alastor loves a good con artist story. “The Dust Bowl, I missed myself—just a little bit after my time—but from my understanding it was a big drought in the middle of the States that dried out a bunch of farmland. Lot of farming families starved those years.” Alastor loves a good con artist, but starving people are just sad.

Valera

This Ponzi guy should have gone into politics, hot damn. Valera makes a low whistle, nodding their approval. "That DOES explain why he thought about Ponzi, we were talking about the weird political scams my predecessor left me on the hook for when I snuffed him out. Though I think that Charles there pulled it off with more flair than that bird brain ever could have. What a character! I've got to respect that kind of daring."

Probably best not to comment too much on the dust bowl, that sounds like a downer. But, they did bring it up, and if they're talking about Alexander.. "That does explain it. I believe his family was based in that middle area." A nod, and they immediately jump to something less negative. "Let him prattle on at you about his electronics store, he'd love it. The man talked my fins off for twenty minutes about something called a Perikon Detector a regular asked him to order and I STILL don't understand why he was so exasperated about it."

Alastor

“Oh, did he ever have flair! There’s a story I heard about when news of his scams started hitting the papers—all his investors swarmed his offices to demand their money back, he went around to them one by one offering coffee and donuts and smiles, and charmed them so well they *left* their money with him!” Alastor laughs.

Perikon Detector? Alastor stares off into space a moment, trying to dig the term out of nearly-century-old memories. “... Probably because Perikon Detectors were replaced by vacuum tubes before ninety percent of the nation ever even *heard* of radios. What the hell did someone want a Perikon Detector?”

Valera

They laugh, clapping their hands together. Charles Ponzi, was it? They'd have to look the fellow up later just to see the details of his escapades, maybe forward the information to a certain lawyer they knew. But for now, their potential costar has been oddly silent..

Alastor in a state of blank befuddlement was a rare treat, and one that Valera enjoyed while they could before he seemed to snap back into focus with his scrabbled knowledge in hand. "You'll have to ask him for specifics, but judging by the choice of insults, this person had a habit of asking for obscure, outdated parts rather frequently. Maybe a collector? Upcycler?" They shrug. "I still have no idea what a Perikon Detector IS. It sounds like a little bauble they'd use in a bad sci-fi show."

Alastor

“Well, it detects perikons, obviously!” He pauses. Dead silence. “Right, forgot I gave the laugh track the afternoon off. You at least know what vacuum tubes are, right? They, uh...” Has Alastor ever actually learned what it is, *exactly,* that vacuum tubes do. He knows how to use them. He knows how to tell which one he needs. He’s put them in radios. He’s *made* radios. But his eyes glaze over whenever he tries to learn what exactly it is the electricity *does* in there.

“Well,” he says confidently, “they control electrons, you see. You’re not getting very far in electronics if you can’t control electrons.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “Shut up, you’re all on break. Anyway, you’ve got vacuum tube radios and crystal radios—there’s a crystal in a Perikon Detector, see—and vacuum tube radios actually need some electricity to power them—which means you’ve got enough electricity to also power a speaker. Crystal radios are powered only by the very radio waves they pick up, but you’ve got to squeeze headphones against your face to hear it—so not very useful if you want to use a radio while doing anything but sitting in one spot very quietly with your hands over your ears. A Perikon Detector is just one brand name of crystal detectors that pick up radio waves.”

Valera

Alastor's initial joke is delivered, and Valera rather wished it hadn't been. In fact, they'd like to file a formal complaint with the verbal post office, they seem to have delivered an auditory assault instead of pleasantries. Silence reigns between them, oppressive and all consuming like an unjust monarch, three eyes staring silent judgement at the Radio Demon for his awful, terrible, no good dad joke levels of comedy. Jingle the bells on your little jester hat, old man-- Oh wait, he's talking again.

Valera stops squinting, rolling their eyes with a groan. He's still telling bad jokes. Those are only funny when YOU'RE the one telling them, the bastard. But they're going to completely gloss over his evil sense of humor and focus on the technical talk, and if there's a little upward twitch of their lips it's his imagination. Shut up. Dad jokes aren't funny. "Interesting! I'd never even heard of a crystal radio before, humans upgrade their technology so quickly that it makes the mind reel. One of their.. Your? Finer features."

Alastor

Alastor is goddamn hilarious and a gift to the microphone and the world is better for him and his humor having been in it, if we’re not counting those murders he did. “It *is* one of our more impressive parlor tricks! Although, truth be told, only one we picked up in the last century or so!” A pause. “Last *two* centuries. I keep forgetting the 1820s aren’t a hundred years ago. Anyway, we’ve really picked up the pace lately, relatively speaking! I once heard someone say—I don’t know how he knows, but I’m sure someone looked it up—that for several thousand years, the human *pelvis* evolved faster than the plowshare! And then all of the sudden, boom! Factories! Steel! Trains! Airships! Radio! How did people before the nineteenth century not bore themselves to death, I’ll never know.”

Valera

Valera cocks their head to the side, mind casting back. "From what I recall about sixteen hundreds France from my earliest visits, there was a lot of interpersonal drama and dying from preventable diseases to keep people busy. Much less interesting than the industrial revolution. Though the water was also a lot *cleaner* back then." A dissatisfied scoff. "Late eighteen hundreds London was a foul, foul place. Only went once and I had a cough for a week."

Alastor

"Oh, *that's* right! *Human drama!* Entertainment at its purest! I would have been an insufferable gossip, I'm sure." His smile broadens with satisfaction at figuring out what he would have done before radio.

Valera

"Oh don't sell yourself short, Alastor. I'm sure given the chance, you could be an insufferable gossip now, too!" They flutter their lashes dramatically, fanning themselves with their hat as they titter like a fine court damsel. Okay, enough of that. "They should be calling you soon, no?"

Alastor

“You flatter me! If more people shared gossip with me, I *would* be!”

Oh, right. He’s here for the first audition he’s cared about since dying. He sits up a little straighter, ears almost lifting out of his absurd disguise hair as he strains to listen to the current audition on stage. Sounds like it’s wrapping up. “Probably.” He looks down at his printed lyrics again and, predictably, forgets how to read.

Valera

Valera glances at Alastor's paper, humming as their hands rest on their hat. Was he *nervous*?

"Are you nervous?" Wait they said that out loud didn't they. Well, shit. Better commit. "What did you say you were doing again? The Major General's Song?"

Alastor

He's gonna ignore the hell out of that first question. "Yes, Modern Major General—and I learned a couple of songs from the show, more or less. I don't know what they're going to ask for. I figured at a minimum Modern Major General would show I can sing fast enough for the parts, if they don't want anyone to sing from the show."

Valera

If he'd actually answered the question, Valera would have probably accused him of being an imposter. Alastor wasn't known for admitting to his emotions unless you happened to be a Victorian steampunk snake, and even then. A sigh, and they lean back in their seat as much as their tail allows. "They let me sing Will Wood, so I think your selection should be perfectly sufficient. You even went with another musical theater song!"

Valera

Even then, he only just sort of failed to deny straightforward accusations. Kind of like what he just did. "I'm glad I didn't go with Will Wood," he mutters.

Yep, there's no more singing or talking from the stage, they're definitely wrapping up. Any second now.

Valera

It sounds like Alastor's turn is coming up, and good timing on that. They had no idea how to respond to his mutterings beyond pointing out that no casting director in Hell was likely to have heard of a semi obscure avant-garde jazz musician. Which might not even be accurate, maybe he was popular down here.

Out comes the phone, the ultimate distraction to ignore a potentially awkward silence. Better to end the talk on a positive-ish note, considering they're going to be seeing this garishly dressed man on the daily for possibly months. Sit next to one Alastor, text another, barely suppress snorts when the second gets confused about "phish food" being an ice cream flavor. As a fish does.

Alastor

The most recent actor comes backstage again, and another demon calls, “Next, uh... Lass?”

Alastor hops to his feet. “That’s me! That’s my name.” He turns to Valera. “Stage name. Drag name, usually, but as long as I’ve got the hair and the dress today—Anyway!” He claps a hand on Valera’s shoulder. “Tell me to break a leg!”

Valera

They glance up from their phone at the name call, sliding their eyes back down as Alastor hops up. Off he goes then? Maybe not, he's talking now, they should respond--

They make a very undignified BWAGH at the unexpected touch, hat flying off their lap as their whole body jumps. Then immediately pretends it didn't happen, clearing their throat noisily. What? No, they didn't just jump out of their scales. "Break a leg, Alastor."

Alastor

*Wheeze.* He doesn’t apologize but he *does* quickly take his hand back, which is probably as close as they’re gonna get from him. “Thanks!” He startled the hell out of someone and got a quick laugh out of it, that does something to steady his nerves. He folds up his lyrics, tucks them away god-only-knows-where, and strides out. Showtime!

Valera

Valera watches him go, shaking their head as they stand. Well, that's one radio demon out of their hair. Time to go willingly throw themselves at another one! The hat is plucked off the floor, and off they go. Not too shabby a day, not too shabby at all.

[tastyliltina]

The Payment

You almost stepped over it.  You’d almost moved past when a glittering caught your eye.  Something just out of reach, but interesting enough that you stopped.  It looked like a coin, but...it looked like it was glowing. Slowly, you glanced in front of you.  Behind you. No one was coming. No one was in the alley. You were alone.  

It sat there, shining like a gem against the dampened concrete.  Just as you suspected, the strange glow came from a coin. Despite being the size of a quarter, the coin was gold.  You knelt, collecting the trinket with a frown, and held it into the glow of a streetlight. It didn’t look like any sort of currency you knew.  There was an inscription engraved into the surface of the coin, and you squinted to make it out.  

Something cold gripped your stomach.  The first word on the coin was a name.  Your name. Startled, you lifted the coin closer to your face.  This only confirmed your worry. There, in plain sight, was your name.  Spelled correctly. Each letter was perfectly carved into the metallic surface of the coin, as though they belonged there.  You let your gaze wander along the coin, and turned it over in your hand. On the back was a bear. It stood tall and looming, claws outstretched, its lips curled back in a snarl.  Beneath the bear was more text.  

Today is your lucky day!  You turned the coin to continue reading.  Take your chance and flip the coin!

“No way,” you breathed.  Frowning, you turn the coin over and over again, trying to find some reasoning behind it.  Maybe this was...maybe it was a joke. Your friends, the assholes they were. This was...it could have been a joke.  Right? But...you didn’t know how that was possible. You glanced up and down the alley. Still no one. Not a single soul was with you.  How in the hell…

You hesitated.  The coin said to flip it...why?  None of the reasons you could think of made sense.  None of this made sense. A gentle breeze tugged at your hair, and you huddled the coin close to your chest.  All of a sudden, you felt exposed, like something was breathing down your neck. You stuffed your hands into your pockets, and hurried in the direction of your place, letting your thumb trace the coin as you moved.  

Once you got to your place, you threw the door open and kicked it shut behind you.  Halfway back, you’d decided to sprint...and now you were struggling with the repercussions of the unprompted night jog.  You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a heavy sigh as you pulled out the coin. It was still there, and a quick glance showed the strange letters were, too.  You shrugged off your jacket, placed it back on its hook by the door, and kicked your shoes off. After a pause, you locked the door.  

Now feeling more secure, you stepped to your couch and sat, still rolling the coin between your fingers.  You snorted. Look at you, you thought. Sitting here, scared of a stupid little coin...come on, what was it going to do?  Explode? Without another thought, you propped the coin on your fingers, and gave them a flick.  

The coin soared in the air, spinning and glittering brilliantly before it plopped back into your hand.  You smirked, rolling your eyes as you looked it over. You blinked. Something was different. The bear...the bear on the coin was moving.  You squinted, lifting the coin again. The bear lowered onto all fours.  

You heard something shift in the other room.  You flinched, staring between the coin and the entrance to the living room.  

“Hello?”  you called.  There was a shuffling sound.  Your stomach clenched again, but your focus was pulled to the coin again.  It was heating up, getting hot to the point you dropped it with a hiss. Burning waves radiated over your hand, and you brushed the fresh blister on your palm.  What the hell…?

“Ah, I see you got my calling card…”

Your gaze snapped up.  A dark-skinned, husky man stood in the entrance to your living room, leaning against the wall.  He raised a hand as you gasped, scrambling back on your couch. Sharp, starkly white teeth flashed in a grin that made your hairs stand up.  

“Hey now,” the man stepped forward, his baritone voice drowning the roar of your heartbeat in your ears.  “Take it easy, friend...I’m just here on business.” You swallowed, looking the strange man over. Now that he mentioned it...he did look like he was on business.  Big as he was, he was hearing a pressed suit, adorned with a dark blue tie. Your gaze flickered to his face, tracing the scruffy curves of his cheeks, finally resting on his eyes.  They were a cold kind of blue, and prickled at your skin like a sharp winter wind.  

“I-I’m, um-” you stammered, shaking your head.  “I’m...sorry…? I just-I don’t...how did-how’d you get in?”  You cursed the squeaky, uneven sound of your voice. Contrarily, the man’s grin widened, revealing teeth that were inhuman in every way.  

He rolled his eyes, stepping towards you.  But, instead of focusing on you, he turns his attention towards the empty loveseat.  He sat, blocking the entirety of the seat from your view. It looked too small for him, as did everything in your home.  

“The coin you dropped,” his voice startled you back to attention.  Oh. Your gaze trails downwards to where the coin fell. It wasn’t there.  Nothing was there. But...how?  

“It was right...there…”  You frowned, and looked back up to the stranger.  Now you were curious. “Who are you?”

“Finally,” the man smirked.  “Something I’d like to discuss.”  He sat back, plopping his hands on his knees, casually regarding you.  “My name is Vincent. I’m...a warlock, I suppose you could say. I do magic.  For people.”

Magic?  That explained a few things...the coin, his sudden appearance.  You’d heard of warlocks before, too...sometimes benevolent wielders of magic.  It didn’t help ease your nerves. “Uh-huh,” you murmured, furrowing your brows.  “And...just what is a warlock doing sitting on my loveseat? Do...are you here to do magic for me?”

Vincent shrugged.  “If you’d like me to, I can.”  

“And what if I don’t want you to?”

“Then I’ll take my leave.  But...I think you’d be interested in what I have to offer.”  

“Huh,” you mused.  A large part of you wanted to hear what he had to say.  Thus far, he’d done nothing but speak and sit. At this point, he was already in your home.  “What do you have to offer?”    

“A couple things,” he nodded, and waved a hand.  There was a cloud of blue smoke. You closed your eyes and coughed, turning your head.  When you could look back to the seat, a much smaller man sat in Vincent’s place. Where Vincent’s hair was a dark navy, this man was a pale ginger, with bright green eyes.  The only similarity was the suit, which was as crisp and clean as it had been before. You recoiled, gaping at the new stranger. Vincent, or whoever this man was, smirked. “I can transform myself...and some things.”  He pointed to your television, and snapped his fingers. A cloud of smoke grew around it, and after a moment dissipated to reveal a much nicer, newer television.  

“Wow,” you breathed.  “And-...is that permanent?”

Vincent waved his hand again, and your television went back to normal.  He shifted in his seat, stretching his arms up as his skin began to darken, and his hair straightened.  Once he was back to his dark-skinned, husky self, he nodded.  

“Permanent on things that aren’t alive...temporary on things that are.  I can’t control people or kill them.”

You tilted your head.  “So...you’re kind of like a genie?”

“In a sense,” he shrugged again and rolled his shoulders.  “But I only do one wish, not three. And...everything comes with a price.”  Vincent leaned back into his chair. “See, I have a pretty...steep charge for my services.  Couple thousand per spell, potion, whatever you need.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the coin from before, though it looked absolutely tiny in his hand.  “I have...alternate methods of payment, though. Comes in the form of favors, small things I’ll get you to do for me.”

Of course it came with a price…  Nothing was free. Nodding, you resettled yourself, regarding Vincent skeptically.  He’d sat back now, and scratched his chin. You knew you didn’t have a couple thousand dollars to give, especially to someone you didn’t know…  “Could you fix my car?” You asked. He lifted a brow, giving you a funny look.  

“That’s...it?”  

“I mean-fix it so it never breaks again, and...like- so it doesn’t get damaged.  If I get into another wreck. Mechanics are expensive, and I don’t-...I’m getting tired of having to walk everywhere, and it gets creepy at night,” you explained.  Vincent’s head tilted, and he squinted. He almost looked insulted.  

“Uh...yeah, I can-fixing a car is pretty easy,” he nodded, sitting forwards again.  “Is that all you want me to do?”  

“Pretty much,” you shrugged.  “Figure that’s worth a couple thousand, so…”  

Vincent smirked, and you were once again met with the sight of those fangs.  But...a part of the smile felt warm, kinder than any gestures he’d made so far.  “Consider it done. All I need you to do is hear out my terms.”

“Sure,” you sat forwards, folding your hands in your lap.  Vincent did the same.  

“All I ask...is you let me drop by for a quick snack every once in a while, and that you don’t tell anyone about this.”

You blinked, leaning forwards.  When he didn’t continue, you sat back and quirked your lips.  “That’s...it?”

There was a glitter in Vincent’s eyes.  Something you couldn’t quite place...but you got the feeling there was more to what he was offering.  Yet, it wasn’t enough to scare you.  

“That’s it.  Just allow me to pop in like I did tonight...my line of work means I have to jump around a lot of places, so having somewhere to crash always makes the job more fun.”  Slowly, he shifted, a hand extended. You looked between his face and palm, narrowing your eyes. “Like I said, you reject the terms, I’ll be out of your hair. On that note, though...if you tell anyone about me, the deal’s off.  Your car goes back to how it was before.”

You nodded.  A lot of this seemed to weigh on your willingness to participate in whatever Vincent was offering.  That put you at ease. All of this was up to you. None of it was being forced on you. After a moment’s deliberation, you slid your hand into Vincent’s, and realized just how much his size dwarfed your own.  He grasped your hand, almost engulfing it with his, and lifted it, before letting it drop in a shake.  

There was a moment of silence as you pulled your hand away.  When you looked up to Vincent again, you heard the sound of screeching metal coming from the direction of your garage.  You sat up, head snapping in the direction of the door. Your gaze flickered between Vincent and the door, and you stood, slowly approaching the garage.  

When you opened the door, your car sat still.  But...it was gleaming. Shiny. There was no remnants of the SUV’s front bumper on the trunk.  The paint was fresh again, instead of spotty and rusted. You stepped into the garage, a hand reaching out.  You brushed the side of the car. It looked new. Felt new.  

“It’ll run like new, too,” Vincent chuckled.  You jolted, whipping around to face the man. He stood behind you, looming over you as though he hadn’t crossed the living room without a sound.  

“Wow…”  You turned back to your car, grinning.  You hardly noticed the hand on your shoulder, or the words Vincent mumbled behind you. What you did notice, however, was a dizzying sensation spreading through your entire body.  You grimaced, stumbling in place and closing your eyes.  

Vincent chuckled at your back.  His voice sounded...bigger. You groaned, hands reaching to your face as your head continued to spin.  Nausea bubbled in your stomach. But, as soon as the sensations appeared, they vanished. You lowered your hands, grimacing and blinking a few times.  Dark shadows came into focus. You staggered, head snapping up. Your car...your car was above you.  Or, were you beneath it?  

“Mhmm~,” Vincent’s voice crooned behind you.  You flinched, and yelped as something lowered over you, trapping you in darkness.  Warmth and humidity built around you, and you shoved out at the leathery walls now closed around you.  Everything shifted, and you felt the world dropped, as if you’d boarded a giant elevator.  

“H-hey!”  you exclaimed, and suddenly were blinded with light.  You covered your eyes, grimacing until you could lower your palm.  

Vincent’s face took up your vision.  Rather, it was all you could see, and it was much, much bigger than it had been before.  He was grinning again. You squeaked, scrabbling against the fleshy surface beneath you. You glanced down, and realized you were sitting in Vincent’s hand.  His fingers curled behind you, further trapping you within his palm.  

“Now now,” Vincent chided.  You whined as you stared up at him, your eyes locked on the dark cavern of his mouth.  You didn’t realize it before, but his tongue was orange. Bright orange. You met his eyes, and shivered at the gleam the icy glaciers had.  He looked like a cat that just caught a mouse… “Don’t you worry, I’m not going to hurt you…”

“Wh-” your voice was failing you.  “What’s going on?!”  

“Collecting my payment,” hummed Vincent.  “You see, when I said I’d drop by to get a bite...I didn’t just mean food…~”  His tongue flicked out and traced his lips, and your stomach twisted into knots.  He couldn’t be serious… You looked to him, terror throwing your heart into overdrive.  He couldn’t be serious!

“Y-you’re-you can’t-!”  you cried, only to yelp as Vincent’s free hand lifted, and his fingers pinched around your waist.  “N-no, wait! I don’t-I don’t wanna die!”

Vincent rolled his eyes, plucking you from his hand as though you were nothing more than a candy.  “Oh hush, you’re going to be fine...I don’t hurt clients,” he chuckled again, flashing you a wink. “Besides, you signed up for this, remember?  You agreed to the terms… Can’t blame anyone but yourself for not reading into the fine print~.”  

“B-but-but!”  you tried to counter him, but Vincent seemed to tire of talking.  His fingers lifted you above his face, and you were exposed to the sight of his jaws parting.  Those wicked fangs you’d seen before had been intimidating, but that was nothing compared to the sight of his teeth now that you were tiny.  You squirmed against his fingers, kicking at him as best you could. Vincent didn’t seem to care. Instead, his fingers lowered you over his mouth, and you shivered as a warm breath brushed by you.  

He let go.  The result left you freefalling until you landed on something warm.  Something squishy, and wet, and...his tongue. You’d landed on Vincent’s tongue.  You rolled onto your stomach, staring up and out of Vincent’s maw. A rumble resonated around you, like thunder, but much more alive as Vincent’s tongue shifted.  It lifted slowly, bathing you in warm and thick saliva. You groaned, trying to shove the muscle back, but it didn’t relent. Instead, the tongue shifted, and bucked beneath you.  It squished you against the top of Vincent’s mouth, pinning you in place as the muscle slid and shifted along your figure.  

You tried to fight against Vincent as best you could, but you weren’t making any difference.  Vincent nudged you about his mouth, and though you fought every bit of the way, he still licked and tasted at you like you were some sick form of candy.  Waves and waves of saliva drenched everything around you, and you with it. Eventually, everything stilled. You were beyond soaked now, absolutely lathered with saliva.  Whatever fight you’d had before gave way into exhaustion, and you slumped into the curve of Vincent’s maw.  

“Hmmmmhmmm~,” Vincent’s voice purred around you, resonating against his cheeks and teeth.  “All tuckered out?” his words rolled you around, rippling and rolling around you like ocean waves.  At the same time, his teeth parted, revealing bits and pieces of the outside world. He’d gone back into your living room, it seemed...and was stretched out on the couch.  

“L-let me-let me out!”  you barked, though your voice still sounded like a squeak compared to his, even more so now that it echoed around you.  

“I will,” Vincent continued.  “After I’ve had my payment~.” Everything shifted, but instead of shifting you around, you began to slide backwards.  At least, you assumed it was back...towards the throat. Your hands squished into Vincent’s tongue as you tried to claw your way back up, but you couldn’t get any purchase.  A choked scream escaped you as you began to sink further into him, to the point you could feel his breaths at your feet.  

There was a shift, and you fell.  Heat and air built around you, until your feet hit something squishy and tight.  You barely had time to react before the world flexed, pressing in around you, and sucking you further down.  There was a sickening GLRK</b></i>, and another flex pulled you downwards.  Then another flex, and another, and another...wave after wave of muscle crawled over you, and it occured to you what was happening.  Vincent had swallowed you. You squirmed in his throat, whimpering as the sound of his breathing and heartbeat took over your senses.  

Your feet wriggled, squeezing through a tighter area of throat.  Before you could make sense of everything, you freefell again, this time plopping into a roomy and muggy space.  You lay on your back a moment, taking several breaths of the acrid air. When you could, you looked around, and whimpered as you made out pulsing, churning walls surrounding you.  In the meantime, Vincent seemed all too pleased, and thrummed around you. You clapped your hands over your ears, but it did little good to muffle the sound of your host.  

There was a moment of quiet, then the rumble of...language?  Vincent was saying something, but you couldn’t make it out. It sounded foreign.  You didn’t have long to question what he was saying before everything began to close in.  The walls that surrounded you began to tense and tighten around you, now snugly holding you in place where you’d had room to move around before.  You squirmed.  

“Mmmh~ keep that up, and I might extend my stay…”  Vincent broke into what sounded like a yawn, and you flinched.  

“I-I don’t want you to stay!”  you screeched, thrashing as much as the tight walls allowed.  This only seemed to excite them, and they began to squish and pulse around you, massaging you back into the fetal position.  

“Oh hush,” Vincent’s voice slurred, and he yawned again.  “You don’t have a choice~. You’re in there as long as I want...and I think I’m going to keep you for a good while...”  

“No, wait-you can’t!”  

“I can, and I will~.  You agreed to the terms,” Vincent mumbled, and you felt something press against you, rubbing against the walls.  You got the idea Vincent was rubbing his stomach, as though to calm it down after a rowdy meal...which you guessed you were.  “Now pipe down...I’m gettin’ a nap…”

“Wait-Vincent, please</i>-!”  you begged, but it was met with a deep sigh, and a shudder along the walls squeezing in on you.  Vincent went quiet. After a moment, you heard a sound like a hum...but much more crackly, and broken.  A snore? He...was he sleeping?! Snarling, you squirmed in place again, figuring if you fought enough it would wake the bastard up.  

It didn’t.  Minutes passed of you throwing your weight around, pressing out against Vincent in whatever way you could, but nothing changed.  He snored away, and you remained where you were.... Thankfully, things didn’t seem to change much as far as his stomach went, either.  Nothing felt different...you could still breathe, and albeit being slimy and terrified, you were unharmed.  

Sleep began to creep into the corner of your mind, beckoning you to relax.  Part of you wondered if this was more of Vincent’s magic, but you’d had a long day...walking to and from work had been taxing.  Work had been taxing. And this...deal, trap, whatever it was, had been taxing. You were exhausted. The warmth and snug embrace around you didn’t help with your sleepy state...if anything, it only encouraged you to give in and close your eyes.  Vincent said you were staying here as long as he pleased...you figured that would give you enough time to catch up on your rest.

Something itched at the back of your mind as you drifted off…  How many times would Vincent collect his payment?  

[luminescentlyricist]

🧡 Autophobia 🧡

AUTOPHOBIA - NOUN - An irrational fear of oneself ; an intense self-fear that is groundless.

~

Dirk had never been all that emotional, but this was the last straw. He was breaking day by day, teetering on the edge of snapping the carefully constructed mask of apathy he'd worked so hard to maintain. Even before Derse had exploded, there were days where he couldn't slip away into the dream planet. Then, whenever he could - without Roxy there, without having her snoring company - the whispers of the horrorterrors seemed loud enough to deafen him. He'd never told anyone about it. Not even Dave. There were truly no words appropriate for the situation, and it muddled up his thoughts with stupid emotional biases to consider.

He sat in his living room, a hunched-over gargoyle, unmoving and unwilling to move. The larger-than-necessary television screen in front of him blared music, but his own brother's sick beats weren't enough to shake him from his literal and metaphorical slump. For all he knew, it was midnight, but he felt detached enough that he'd disregard the ebbs and flows of tiredness until he blanked out and crashed. Sometimes, his mind and body alike couldn't handle the strain. This was one of those times. Dirk's muscles ached in protest of the awkward position he'd decided to rest into, and as his neck craned downwards - being physically unable to keep his head up any longer - the iconic triangular shades he always wore slipped from his nose.

He made no move to retrieve them. Despite feeling disproportionately vulnerable without them, the Strider barely cared. All of his windows were covered by thick black curtains anyway, the otherwise invigorating sunlight nonexistent.Nobody wanted to visit, anyway, as Dirk was sure they were all sick of each other's company after so long. He was all too used to being alone and looking after himself, so the group's self-imposed isolation period shook him a lot less than it did his peers. He noted that he had been invited to a group board on Trollian - his chat client of choice, as it turned out not to be exclusive to the trolls - but, once again, made no effort to raise himself from his slump.

John had also messaged him, but they had barely spoken. All he knew was that the 'windy boy' was one of his brother's friends.

Dirk's uniquely-coloured eyes slipped closed after a while of vacant staring. He no longer heard the music loud enough to shake the walls. The only thing that met his ears was the low, steady thrumming of his own heartbeat. It was disorienting, yes, having everything fade away, but he was adjusted to solitary ventures and feeling so alone that darkness felt more comforting than seeing.

He'd been wondering whether or not to give Hal a more physical form because he'd been able to salvage the AI from the 'corpse' of ARquiusprite. It felt somehow immoral - even by Dirk's largely skewed moralities - to keep the shades locked away, even though it was to prevent them from tormenting him or driving him to increasingly long periods of sleeplessness. The truth was that Dirk held an emotionless facade as his brother did, though his lack of understanding was left exposed and unmasked in contrast. But he was fragile, as prone to breaking as anyone else was. Hal was an enigmatic being, more than enough to shake him up.

It was haunting, realising just how strangely he had acted when he was younger. How stupidly, how naively. Taken away by his emotions, loud and brash. Was that just how thirteen-year-olds were supposed to be? As detestable as the robot was, he was a reflection of who Dirk had been and who he never wanted to be again. A reminder.

Finally standing, a small groan escaping his lips at the pain of his now-stiff body, the Strider thought. He didn't really know what to do, but never bothered to engage with his friends despite the annoyance of the notification light blinking. Travelling to the fridge with habitually light, wary footsteps, Dirk opened the door and took out a can of Orange Crush. He consumed so much of the stuff it was a wonder his teeth weren't stained. The cold drink seemed like snow - not that he personally knew what it felt like - in the way its coolness slowly spread through his hands. He needed the sugar to snap out of his daze, as strange as it seemed.

The tab of the lid scratched abrasively against his fingers when he attempted to open it, and he cursed aloud, hearing his own voice for the first time in what seemed like an aeon. The surfaces of his fingertips had been caught, and pinpricks of red bubbled up to obscure their swirling prints. Licking the blood away without a second thought, he tried again, ears pricking to the satisfying hiss the carbonated drink made when the metallic seal was broken. Taking a swig, Dirk disregarded the bubbles that seemed to burn his tongue. As much as he hated it, he felt too lonely now, The taste of the drink was familiar and comforting.

Slamming the fridge door with a little more force than was necessary, the young man flinched. His shoulders were raised in a defensive, tight position, so he forced himself to relax. He'd engineered a situation for himself that hindered his emotional and physical growth, the battle bots being the very reason why he was so prone to startling when no one else was watching to protect him. But the one flaw that Dirk seemed to so vehemently disagree with was perhaps his most prominent: He'd largely formulated and fuelled his own misfortune.

Moving back to the couch, he sat, staring at the rotating disc emblem on the screen. It was up at full brightness, as he refused to take off his shades even though he was completely alone. He knew that he should have at least contacted his brother. If he was craving contact so badly, Dave would be the best person to tell about his troubles. They had been raised similarly, after all, regardless of any family ties they might have had. But. for the most part. he felt disruptive.

Watching the rapid spinning of the disc animation, his stomach felt compelled to follow suit. Swallowing another mouthful of Orange Crush, relief washed through his whole body and quelled his nausea to a degree. His thoughts were only becoming louder and harder to ignore, though, so he muted and switched off the television. His ears continued to ring obnoxiously, so he tilted his head back, placed down the can and plugged them with his fingers.

Dirk was procrastinating, denying the need to fidget and tinker in his workshop purely to quieten his Hal-based thoughts, which were beginning to come overwhelming despite his efforts. He just wanted to prevent them from growing.

He still wondered about his Brobots. The boy wasn't one to get sentimental, and he wasn't about to. He'd simply put so much effort into them that it seemed a shame to dismantle them for a cause he didn't truly support. It was one hell of a choice to make, and the self-imposed delays were only hindering his prospects. Surely he was stronger than his thoughts? For someone who'd sat alone with them for so long, something like Hal shouldn't have moved him.

With another few slow swallows of his drink, he forced himself to stand and look towards a corridor. That was exactly where he didn't want to go. The darkness surrounding the area - though purely owing to his laziness, having not installed a lightbulb - was disorienting and even frightening. He'd never liked having his vision taken away because of how heavily he relied on it.

Descending the small staircase, he glanced downwards to check if his boots - normally steel-toed in case he dropped anything onto them by accident, despite outward claims of his own composure - were properly laced. Finding that one was undone, he bent down and carefully double-knotted it, wincing as the normally non-irritating fabric connected with the raw skin on his fingertips. He'd expected such a small thing to heal rapidly, but all it was doing quickly was becoming both a metaphorical and physical pain. Straightening, he pushed open the door to his workshop and stepped inside.

The space no longer seemed as welcoming and relaxing as his memory told him it would be. There was a certain fogginess about it, the windows dark and air colder than Dirk had ever anticipated. The layout was similar to that of Equius', though the benches and worktables were distinctly neater, and various swords and weapons lined the wall. Their metal glinted dully in the waning moonlight. As opposed to bloodied parts of completed and smashed battle bots, Dirk's hosted husks and unfinished or dismantled robots in varying degrees of completeness.

An entire table was strewn with circuits and other electrical components. Dave had once suggested he contact a troll named Sollux to help with those. He hadn't bothered to enquire who that was, but it seemed a little more believable since he'd confirmed that trolls were not just internet idiots but also a bona fide alien race. Some had cool powers, according to his brother, and this 'Sollux' was one of them. He reportedly possessed psionics and eye lasers, though the tech savviness was far more relevant to Dirk's quests.

Checking around for his welding mask, the young man decided to distract himself by turning to the 'wrong' bot entirely. Squarewave and Sawtooth still existed, after all, and his mind was wandering to that uncertain place. He needed a distraction. He didn't want to face that. He was, for all intents and purposes, a complete and utter coward, even more so because he didn't want to admit it. His calloused fingers tightened against the personalised welding mask, so much so that it rubbed against the drink-tab wound, the same one that was so insistent on not healing.

This bot was a loose model, a sort of forgotten 'Davebot', one which he had since decided to abandon the building of. He thought it selfish to construct a model bot of someone who was still very much alive and deserving attention. By this token, he knew that he had broken this unspoken principle by virtue of the bot he had made Jake, though he considered that a separate situation. Dirk wasn't taking any attention away from his original self, and he could also argue that he didn't deserve it at all.

The boy let out a short sigh, rubbing his hands across his face and grabbing a pair of thick black gloves from a hook on the wall. This allowed a streak of red to smear across his nose from the newly reopened finger-prick wound. Although it was a bad idea due to the blatant infection potential, he didn't bother leaving the workshop to get a bandaid for it.

The Dave-esque robot's bright red eye lenses bored into his own with an unnerving glint, appearing far too alive for his liking. Dirk exhaled shakily, reaching out to touch the bot's soothingly cold exterior. Silvery alloy, fused with tight welding and ungodly amounts of heat so that there were no unseemly bolts and such to mess up the appearance of the face. Although he found it unnervingly difficult to display his affections, the care with which he had assembled his brother's likeness was telling enough.

Drumming on the shining lenses with unclipped fingernails, Dirk realised that he had subconsciously removed his gloves while fidgeting. He scanned the room, huffing and looking down at his fingers so that he had a concrete image of himself putting them back on in his head. Without that reminder, the boy was so stuck in his own swirling thoughts he would have forgotten again. He stepped back from the Davebot, wrinkling his nose in disgust - or perhaps a sudden burst of jealousy - despite his prior, awkwardly-expressed affections towards it. He took a nearby cloth, throwing it over the bot if only to obscure its confronting gaze.

The last thing he wanted to do was face Hal, even though it was just like going back in time. He never asked to face himself, no matter the iteration. Dirk knew he was better than that. The flaws that he once had were all locked away tightly, or so he thought. And yet, he had given their metallic prison a name. There was something so disarming about Hal; the stagnancy in growth was awful alone, but seeing himself - or a projection, a perception - so raw and unfiltered was going to break him apart. It just wasn't natural.

As Dirk felt himself spiral into such a distressing pattern of thought, a rare frown took his lips downwards. He picked up a stray piece of scrap metal, turning it over and over in his fingers until he found some peace in the constant action. Placing it into a pocket, he decided to keep it out of the way but nonetheless close by for further 'use'. He also needed something physical to do rather than resulting to his self-jeopardy and facing Hal when he was in such a fragile state of mind.

The tremors that were rippling through his body begun to intensify, and Dirk realised just how useless it was waiting for himself to calm down. There wasn't a whole lot he could do to procrastinate unless he dragged his friends out of the comfort of isolation. Besides, he had a feeling seeing Jake in person wouldn't put him in the best mood. Running a hand distractedly through his hair, the Strider braced himself against a worktable and groaned aloud. Nothing was helping his emotional turmoil, much less the headache pounding behind his eyes.

He'd spent too many sleepless nights wondering about this particular moral dilemma to keep it inside, but that was simply what he had adjusted himself to. Dirk Strider was a bomb, but he was convinced that he could explode if and when he wanted to. But each and every issue he refused to face was only shortening his resolve. What kind of Strider allowed himself to cry? Not him, that was for sure.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, slipping beneath his welding mask and making him his in irritation. Everything, no matter how small, seemed like it was against him. And to someone feeling as sensitive as Dirk was at that moment, it might as well have been the truth. The buzz in his fingers from touching the abrasive metal - despite the gloves - was gradually spreading, vicious pins and needles that were such a rapid sensation every movement was causing him pain or discomfort.

With a shaking hand, he removed his phone from one of his many pockets and opened Trollian. There, in bright red letters, sat the exact help he was so sure he didn't need. Dave would've been able to soothe him, at the very least, but what he really wanted was for someone to just... listen. Dirk hadn't let himself rely on others in the past, and he wasn't about to. Letting the screen fade to black, the young man let out a breath he had no idea he had held in so tightly. The phone fell from his lax fingers and back into his pocket, the dull weight sparking more pain in his midsection that he couldn't ignore.

Teeth harshly grinding against each other, he took one last glance towards the covered Davebot and rounded a corner, pushing back a thin and vaguely dusty curtain that separated one bot from the rest. Exhaling slowly and steeling himself, he stepped inside. Attempting to disregard his various aches and pains. his gaze flickered to a small drawer. It looked as if it were gouged at to try and remove the handle. He had done that, but it had been so long since that he'd forgotten.

Walking slowly towards it, Dirk produced a key from a chain around his neck. His friends had often enquired as to what the chain was for, but he'd never felt the need to answer them truthfully. He unlocked the drawer, closing his eyes for a moment to silently process what he was doing. It was terrifying, as much as he wouldn't admit it. The only thing that scared Dirk enough to break his facade was himself. Facing his own flaws. Hal made everything ten times worse. Nonetheless, he had completed the body, even if it was crafted in a far less personal manner when compared to the Davebot.

Sweat continued to bead at his forehead and drip downwards, irritating Dirk enough that he removed the welding mask entirely to wipe it away as much as possible. Taking a spare pair of shades - which he always had somewhere on his person - out of his protective apron and slipping them back on, a little bit of the tension melted out of his shoulders. It felt more natural to have the shades on, and he had no need for the welding mask. He didn't intend to see to the bot's adjustments just yet.

Although he regretted building Hal a body, all things said and done, it was the only chance he had to try and quash the nightmares and nausea that followed him everywhere he went. There was no logic to the fear, this he knew, but he just wished it'd stop, despite his giving up hope on it a while ago.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, so he retrieved his phone and headphones. They were a special pair that Dave had once painted for him, sleek, black and noise-cancelling with the added bonus of his hat logo emblazoned on each ear. Again, his thoughts drifted towards getting the help of his brother, but there was no time for any of that. He was too entrenched in his personal problem to think about pushing it onto anyone else. Once again, he put Dave's beats on, but this time they were too close to ignore. The headphones were wireless, luckily, because there was no chance he could have untangled them with his uncooperative hands. They weren't going to stop trembling any time soon.

Dirk's hand rested on the drawer, fingers drumming against the fading, once-burnished wood. He looked down to the contents of the drawer and grimaced, taking a small step away from it. He rethought the last hour's efforts, captured all in the single hesitation. He knew it was necessary, but there was something freezing him in place while his head and stomach spun. The boy curled his fingers so tightly around the handle that his knuckles turned white and it started splintering beneath his grip.

He reached into the drawer, placing his fingers one-by-one on the black lenses within and unsteadily picking them up. As the light caught on them - the workshop lacking curtains as the only room safe and secluded enough - he winced, but it was unclear why until he set them back down and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Dirk had seen the red lenses behind the shades, and thought that he was hallucinating for a moment. He hadn't seen them distinctly prior because he just hadn't processed it. He'd developed a habit of blocking things out physically and mentally when he didn't want to see them.

Sighing to the empty room, Dirk fumbled around in his many pockets for his phone, sending a short message devoid of context to his brother.

~ TimaeusTestified [TT] Began Trolling TurntechGodhead [TG] ~

TT: This is it.

~ TimaeusTestified [TT] Ceased Trolling TurntechGodhead [TG] ~

Returning it to his pocket, he made sure it was on Do Not Disturb mode. There was no way in or out of Hell he'd be shaken from his concentration, and no event more important than it to justify that. It also had to be kept a secret for exactly that reason. Picking the shades back up, he glowered down at them. He hated them - and even more, the AI that they contained - beyond expression. But there was no time, and thusly no back-pedalling that he could afford to be doing. He'd procrastinated enough.

Hesitating despite the reassurance that there was no time to waste, Dirk took off his shades one more time. Removing another welding mask from a hook at the wall - this one plain black unlike the one in the main area that he had taken the time and effort to customise - and replacing it with his own pair of shades, a shudder worked its way up his spine again. This time, the associated tension in his shoulders stayed, giving him none of the prior relief. He never expected it to, really. The Striders were a family who were all capable of working with, around or against their obstacles if needed. Highly adaptable. In reality, nothing much was a hindrance to Dirk because of his learned - and perhaps forced - stoicism.

With a stiff and uncertain movement, the young man drew the shades up to his facE, staring into the crimson lenses as if in a trance. They were lifeless and cold, just as he'd trained himself to be. But he knew, deep in his mind where the bad thoughts - or those he personally considered bad, anyway - rested, that it wouldn't be for long. He barely caught himself fidgeting with the scrap metal restlessly for a moment within his pocket. He begun to prepare the final wirings, those that would spiral out from his folly's chest and centre console.

The one advantage of his fear-based procrastination was having ample enough time to hone his craft. He was able put more careful handiwork into Hal's final form than he ever would have been able to give to the Davebot, which was cause for shame on his part. The wires, all of which he constructed himself, were built to be see-through but contained small lights that would change from blue to red according to the artificial rise and fall of Hal's chest, and the 'beating' of the console. It was a small detail, easily missed, but it made him feel all the more unsettling and real.

He hummed along to the beats still thrumming in his ears, a habit he only displayed when entirely alone.

Dirk inserted the chest-piece along with the console, which was neatly connected and hidden behind) into its proper place, the shaking that had once plagued him long overshadowed and disguised under false confidence. Something was telling him to stop. To leave Hal to rust and his careful wirings to rot. But Dirk's stubbornness and characteristically destructive nature caused him to dismiss all judgements, no matter how logical. No matter how much the dismissals would hurt him.

Clearing his throat, the boy's eyes flickered upwards to the lens that was missing in the facial pieces. Realistically, he could have simply foregone the eye-lenses in their entirety because of the shades he'd put on, but it would have felt unnatural. Regardless of the bot-husks scattered across the workshop and the image they conveyed, their creator was highly committed and dedicated to his craft. Under the right circumstances, yes, but dedicated nonetheless.

Straying from the bot, Dirk re-entered the main sector of his workshop and located a box full of perfectly maintained, crystalline lenses. Picking it up, he made his way back into the smaller room and set it down onto a makeshift workbench, sifting through them in quiet. He had somehow listened to the majority of his brother's discography, even though the intensity of his concentration caused him to block out all else but his work. As such, he hadn't properly realised the magnitude of either achievements, disregarding the bot-related work as well.

Soon, Dirk found the lenses he was searching for, holding them up to the windows and discovering there was no light left to shine through them. Another thing that he'd let slip unwillingly under the radar was just how long he'd been working for at that point. Nonetheless, he knew well enough that their colouration was a near-exact match to his own eyes. They were chosen in stark contrast to the red and black dominating Hal's outfit.

Stepping backwards from the bot in question, the Strider dug the toes of his boots into the floor and started to count silently. He was grounding himself in both a mental and physical manner. He needed to prepare himself for what he was about to finish. For any normal person, the task wouldn't have been so daunting. For him, on the other hand, it was facing his fears. Regardless of his own wants or desires, Dirk both pressed and stepped forwards. He placed the lens in the appropriate eyepiece, and realised that he no longer had to fake his confidence. He was sure of himself.

Slowly soldering the wires with his welding mask pulled down against the embers and sparks, he steadied his once-erratic breathing as much as he could. Upon completing this, he took off the mask and let himself observe Hal, a slight frown turning the otherwise neutral expression he'd maintained. Checking that the kill switch was working - and, despite his loathing, hoping that he'd never have cause to use it - for a moment's distraction, he retrieved the iconic shades.

Connecting them to the bot, he reached down to the centre console and pressed in a final panel. Looking back towards Hal, Dirk realised what he was truly seeing.

These were the eyes of someone more human than he was.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Numb

Sequel to Breach, The Cell, Corrupt, Surrender, Seed, and Broken Protocol

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, mention of blood, self-harming thoughts.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: We’re back to our reader so this happens at the same time as the last chapter but obviously it’s all her thoughts with a little extra plot mixed in. Hope you enjoy because this is all I’ve been able to write for three days and it sucks.

Please let me know what you think and reblog if you can :D It would really help as I move forward with the series. Thank you all again for being amazing and here’s your helping of angst. 

-

The loneliness was most agonizing. At first, it had been Ilyich. His visits had made you anxious. You dreaded his presence more than the Asset. He’d use his machine to look inside you and prick your finger for a dab of your blood. Then the other tests; physical tasks which grew harder as you got bigger. Maybe that was worse than the isolation. Your rounding stomach made life even more uncomfortable. Even more desperate. Hopeless.

This child inside of you had no future beyond these walls. Like you. Like him. They had let him visit less since discovering your pregnancy. Whether his missions had grown less often or they were more concerned with the child, you couldn’t decide. Perhaps he had grown less interested. Whatever force drove him to you had dwindled. You suspected Hydra would follow suit. When you delivered their true experiment, the one hidden in your stomach, you didn’t expect a continued presence. Here or anywhere.

Most tragic was that you would die alone. Without your mother. Without a friend. The doctors and nurses came and went without warmth. The Asset was silent. Inhuman. He couldn’t understand much. He was under their control. He wasn’t really his own person. Your only companion would be torn from you soon enough. The one you tried so much not to grow attached to. The one you couldn’t help but love. 

You rubbed your stomach as you thought. Your legs splayed out on the bed as you leaned against the headboard. You wished you could protect them. To think you were to bring another into this misery. Sentence them to a lifetime of this torture. You thought of it often. Of how they would curse you for your part in their fate. It kept you up at night. Dragged you down during the day. You groaned and closed your eyes, your hand soothing as you drew circles on your bump.

When you heard it, you opened your eyes but made no effort to sit up. There was a small knock. You were tired. You must be imagining things. No one knocked before they entered. The lock clicked then cracked; the knob fell loose and the door swung open.The soldier’s gaze fell to her and he unballed his fists.

His eyes went to your hand. It stopped and you held your stomach as you moved across the bed. Your night gown had grown tighter. It barely covered your thighs and left you entirely exposed. These days, you waddled more than walked. You touched your lower back where the muscles knotted. He reached back and closed the door as you approached him. You weren’t afraid anymore. Not of him.

He surprised you nonetheless. He lowered himself to his knees as you watched. He reached up to shed his black mask and grimy gloves. He tossed them to the floor. He lifted the hem of your nightgown and his hand felt your stomach. Not the metal one, the real one. Next he pressed his lips above your belly button and you shivered. He leaned his head against your stomach and you tentatively brushed your fingers through his hair. It was stiff with dried sweat and dirt. You couldn’t help the tremble in your hands.

His hand slipped from your stomach and tickled along the line of your pelvis and then your legs. You shuddered and he delved deeper. You grabbed onto his shoulders as you welcomed his touch. The only comfort in your endless solitary. His lips were on your hipbone as his fingers found the bud hidden between our folds. You clung to him tighter.

You watched as his head moved, his lips traced along you pelvis until they met his fingers. You gasped as his tongue found your clit. You leaned into him, your stomach against his head. He had never touched you like this before. He wasn’t always rough but he had only ever seemed curious. Clinical. As if he was testing your body. This time was different.

He shifted your leg so that it draped over his shoulder. You moaned as you planted your other foot to keep your balance. You spread your hand over his metal hand and his tongue explored your folds. Warm, tender, diligent. You rocked your pelvis against his mouth.You missed his touch even if you denied it. He had been distant the last time he came. Paced and watched. Nothing more.

You came with a cry. It both surprised and thrilled you. His tongue continued to work as he tasted you. You panted and wavered as he slowly slipped your leg from his shoulder. He stood and your night gown fell over your stomach. He scooped you up in his arms before you could react and carried you to the bed. You let him remove the night shirt as you lifted your arms. His blue eyes roved you, his head tilted, and his lips parted. He caressed your stomach and a low hum rose from him.

You wanted more. Needed more. You weren’t ready to be alone again. You reached over and grabbed his jacket and fumbled with the straps across the front. You undid them clumsily as he watched. You focused on each. Don’t think about what would happen, think of now. You chewed your lip as the words forced themselves to the surface as you pushed his jacket down his arms.

“A few more months,” You said, “Not long.” He nodded as his coat fell over the edge of the bed. “I’m…” You looked down and suppressed the words.

You pulled at his tank top. You could smell his sweat as you removed the layers. You rolled the shirt up his torso and he spoke. “Afraid?” A question. You had only heard him say a few words and that was a new one. You raised your head and nodded. You were more than afraid.

He stood and you unbuckled his belt next. You grew more frantic. You needed the distraction if only for a few minutes. This very act had formed the child inside of you but you could not resist another error. Even if he couldn’t feel as you did, you wanted it. If you could not talk to him, you would touch him. 

He pushed his pants down and he left his boots inside of them. You took his wrists and guided him to the bed. He laid on his back and you threw your leg over him. You straddled him as you took his cock in your hand. You stroked him and rubbed him against your pussy before you sank down. As he filled you, you sighed and let yourself enjoy the ripple it sent through you.

He cradled your stomach with both hands and you looked down at him. You tried to smile but your lips trembled at the gesture. “Ours,” He said. You nodded and repeated it. “Ours.” You began to move atop him. Ours, the word echoed in your head. Not theirs…

You rocked atop him slowly, his hands on your hips as he led your motion. You tried not to think of the fire burning in your mind alongside the flames licking at your pelvis. Never theirs...but you had no choice. They had kept you, you couldn’t keep them from your child. It was your child. And his. You couldn’t change that. They couldn’t change that.

You moved quicker as your walls began to buzz. Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and you moaned loudly. His voice mingled with yours in the air. You felt your wetness as it spread along his skin, your thighs shook, and you threw your head back. You breast were heavy as they bounced over your stomach.

You came with a whine and leaned forward, hands on his shoulders as you rode out your climax. You fought to catch your breath as your walls twitched around him. He grunted as his warmth filled you. Your arms shook and the tears frightened you as they tickled your nose. You hadn’t felt them at the corner of your eyes, only as they streaked down your cheeks.

You raised your head and sniffed. You slowly released his shoulder and he let go of your hips. His hands trailed gently along your stomach and chest. A gesture almost loving. He used his thumbs to wipe away your tears but it only made you sniffle again. He held your face between his hands and you were forced to look at him.

“Sorry,” He pronounced the syllables with effort.

You gulped and searched for a response. Anything. It hurt too much. You lifted yourself from atop him and lowered yourself beside him. You laid on your side and held your stomach as it all returned to you. You could feel him watching you. Just watching. Why wouldn’t he do anything? Even if you asked him, he couldn’t save you. He was their soldier; their tool.

He reached out to you and you rolled away from him. You kept your back to him as you curled up and hid your face behind your hand. With him or against him, you were going to keep this child safe from them. Even if it killed you. You’d rather die trying than lay down and swallow your doom like the pills they forced down your throat.

-

Your mother had warned you that pregnancy would be uncomfortable but there were some changes you could not explain. The way your hair stood on end right before Ilyich and one of his cronies entered. The unusual strength that bent a fork in your hand. The flashes of unquenchable rage. Those came when you thought of the baby. When you thought of the looming deadline. You suspected these were the symptoms they were checking for so often. 

Today Ilyich had come for his usual tests. Strength, reflexes, cognitive. Then the usual look at the baby. His nurse took her notes and set the folder aside. When they observed you, you observed them. You noted the subtle looks between them, the whispers they thought you couldn’t hear, the tics of intrigue as they scratched the nib to paper.

You stood and wiped away the gel on your stomach with a towel. Ilyich checked his watch as he strode to the door. He had been peeking at his wrist for most of the appointment. He was late for something. Some other sick experiment, no doubt. Like Hydra, he was a beast with many heads.

“Give her the supplements. The doses we discussed. And blood from her. Three vials today.” He turned the handle and paused halfway into the corridor. “I trust you to pack up when you are done.”

The nurse went about her work wordlessly. Supplements taken, blood drawn, then pack up the odd machine. You edged around her as you eyed the folder she had set down on the table. You glanced between her and the manilla. The cord of the wand was tangled and she was trying to unknot it without unplugging it.

You touched your stomach and turned. Your other hand hovered above the folder as you peeked again. Your fingers slipped beneath the cover as you listened to her frustrated whispers. You pushed the first paper from the folder. Quietly, carefully along the table. It slipped down to the chair with a subtle flutter. You sat on it before it could draw her attention.

“Ugh,” You grunted to cover your deceit, “My back.”

The nurse glanced over but said nothing. She wrapped the cord around the wand and tucked it away on the cart. You leaned one elbow on the table and she sighed as she took the folder and added it to the cart with your samples and the rest of her tools. You held your chin in your hand as she left you. The door clicked as it always did.

You waited a few moments before you stood. The paper stuck to your thighs and you caught it before it could fall to the floor. The dull font of the typewriter embedded the header at the top and the tight scribble of the nurse and Ilyich filled in the rest. You turned your back to the door and read in an effort to hide it from those who had just left.

Project Zhibog - Eight Months Observed - Seven Months Impregnated

Subject is exhibiting side effects typical to serum without direct exposure. Signs that child will inherit characteristics of serum. Otherwise healthy.

Supplements given to balance hormonal and nutritional levels. Single tablet to prevent possible negative effects of serum.

Ultrasound reveals child is bigger than average at this stage in pregnancy. Gestational period uncertain at moment. Operation if required. Survival of child is necessity; progenitor expendable.

The breath rushed from your lungs and your head spun. You braced yourself on the chair and stared at the document. Your death warrant. You shook your head and crumpled the paper between your hands. If they found it here, you suspected it would not enhance your status to necessity. You passed into the bathroom and tossed the paper in the bowl. You watched the paper swirl down the tube but pulled the chain three times to make sure it was truly gone.

You backed out of the room and returned to the chair. Your hips and back ached terribly. You ran your hands over your stomach and watched your fingers gloss over the fabric of your night gown. “They won’t get me,” You whispered as you cradled your stomach, “Or you. I promise...” You closed your eyes and sighed. “I’ll find a way. I have to find a way.

+

tags will be added in a reblog

[tracybirds]

Venom – but Virgil gets poisoned instead. And I change the entire rescue scenario and line-up because no one can stop me. Not that I didn’t enjoy what we were given ahaha, I just like playing in the sandbox.

Written for @lenle-g bc of this post and a general lack of self control. There’s four chapters, it’s all (mostly) written and edited so you won’t have to wait tooooooo long :D Hope you enjoy!

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“Do you think they’ll stop soon?” asked Gordon, throwing a ball into the air and catching it. “Seems like all they’ve done since the Mechanic got here is argue.”

“Scott’s worried,” replied Virgil, his eyes tracking the ball as he lounged. “He doesn’t know who to trust anymore now that we have confirmation there’s a spy in the GDF. And this is important.”

“It’s important to all of us, not just Scott,” said Kayo, folding her arms across her chest. “He seems to think the rest of us don’t understand what he’s going through.”

“Well, do we?” asked Gordon. “I mean don’t get me wrong, this is about rescuing Dad, but I don’t know we can say we know exactly what’s been going through his head.”

“He’s got some hope now,” said Virgil quietly. “He’s having to deal with a lot of mixed emotions that he couldn’t before.”

“He still doesn’t have to take it out on the Mechanic,” grumbled Kayo. “He’s not even grateful for the risk he’s taking being here.”

A beep interrupted their conversation and the blue glow of John’s hologram shone bright in the centre of the room.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

“Finally,” said Gordon, springing up from his chair. “What’s going on, John?”

“An entomologist called Dr Furnier has been studying arachnids in the Amazon rainforest. He was set to spend three months out there, but the canopy platform where he’s made his base has partially collapsed and he’s trapped sixty feet in the air. The rainforest is too dense for any of our ships, so if you need to get on the ground you’ll want to configure some–”

“Pods. F.A.B. John,” finished Virgil, already moving to his station. “Gordon, Kayo, suit up, I’ll meet you in Thunderbird Two.”

“And not a moment too soon,” muttered Gordon to Kayo under his breath, as the shouting from below ticked up another notch.

***

Virgil and Kayo belayed down into the rainforest canopy at the coordinates John had forwarded to them before signing off to assist Alan on a rescue of his own. Virgil grimaced as the platform came into view, some of the branches it had been strapped to had snapped, leaving the sole occupant dangling at a 30° angle. He had managed to attach a safety line to two trees, which were bending alarmingly in the breeze, and had clipped his belt around the wire as he braced himself against the platform.

“Dr Furnier? We’re International Rescue, here to assist,” he called to the man. “Are you hurt in any way?”

“Just my nerves,” Furnier replied with a weak smile. “This wasn’t the nicest wake-up call this morning.”

“Well, keep on staying calm and we’ll have you out of there in no time.” Virgil said, then tapped on his comm. “Kayo, can you talk to him, make sure he doesn’t start going into shock? His adrenaline is probably about to crash now that we’re here. Keep her steady Gords, we’ll try to attach the platform to Thunderbird Two so we can lift it safely up. If you can get those V-Ti cables down to me, I’ll attach them.”

“F.A.B.,” they chorused together. Virgil nodded in approval as the two moved quickly and efficiently.

“So, what were you studying Dr Furnier?” asked Kayo.

“Bird-eating spiders,” the man said, his face lighting up at the question. “Oh, they’re not dangerous,” he hurriedly explained. “Not unless you’re a bird anyway. But people always seem to be frightened of the bigger ones.”

“It’s probably the hairy legs,” said Kayo with a wicked grin.

“You’re not scared of spiders, are you?” Furnier asked anxiously.

“Not at all,” she assured him. “What else can you tell me about them?”

He beamed at her, and Virgil chuckled as he blocked their conversation out, the thick cables swinging his way. He quickly set to work.

Attaching the cables proved to be no trouble at all. The platform had small, metal loops at each of its sides so that a thick rope could be threaded through and tied securely around the nearby trees. With two of the sides already unattached it was a simple matter to hook the cables through and stabilise the platform. They all heaved a sigh of relief as the platform righted itself and the creaking and groaning of the trees died away as the cables instead bore its weight.

“Right, Gordon? Pull us up,” called Virgil into his comm.

“No can do Virg,” came his brother’s tense reply.

“What? Why not?”

“The canopy is too thick,” said Kayo, her eyes widening with realisation. “There’s no safe way to navigate through it.”

“Bingo,” came Gordon’s cheery voice. “How much cable do we have Virgil?”

“Four hundred feet,” he said immediately.

“Plenty then,” said Gordon. There was a short silence before his voice crackled through the comm once more. “Tell you what, I’ll lower you to the forest floor and pick you up in the Dragonfly. Sound good?”

“F.A.B. Gordon,” said Virgil. “Pull my line up, I’m on the platform now.”

The dense cover of trees masked the sound of mechanical whirring Virgil was familiar with, and so he sat back and let the sounds of the rainforest wash over him. Kayo’s low voice still hummed in the background, but mostly he took in the call of birds as they flew overhead, the chirping of insects breaking the silence. Virgil could feel his body relaxing as they continued to descend, the light slowly giving way to the shadows of the understory. It had been weeks, months even, since he’d gotten time to immerse himself in the natural world he loved and he relished this moment of peace.

He could feel a slight itch on his left hand as he pushed aside a giant leaf the size of his torso, trying to prevent it from getting in his eyes. Idly, he scratched at it through the thick material, as he swung his legs around to listen in on Kayo and Furnier’s conversation.

A sudden, searing pain blossomed in his hand and he gasped in shock.

“Virgil?” asked Kayo, frowning as she looked over at him.

The pain was spreading quickly, radiating white-hot within his skin and it was all Virgil could do to stay upright. Distantly, he could hear Kayo barking into her comm, could feel the sudden jolt as the platform abruptly came to a stop.

“Virgil,” Kayo said sharply. “Virgil!”

“’M here,” he said. Her hand was cool on his face and he focused on the sensation, trying to bring awareness back to his body. Her eyes were wide beneath her creased forehead and he tried to reassure her, mumbling slurred words of comfort that fell out of his mouth with jumbled syllables and cut-off endings.

“Where did the pain start?” asked Furnier, his voice now low and assured as he knelt with a first aid kit open beside him.

Virgil shrugged his left shoulder and tried to wave his left hand at them. He hissed as the action intensified the pain, but Furnier got the message and began to strip the glove away from his arm. He was wearing gloves of his own, Virgil absently noted and then gasped as his throbbing hand was exposed to the warm, humid air around them. Furnier inhaled sharply as the slightly squashed arachnid made its appearance.

“Not good news, I take it?” said Kayo in a low voice.

“That’s a Brazilian wandering spider,” said Furnier in horror. “A banana spider.”

“A what?” asked Virgil, stifling a hysterical laugh. “I’ve been bitten by a banana?”

“No,” said Furnier, sorrowfully. “It’s the most venomous spider in the world. And I’m afraid I can see my antivenom directly below us. It must have fallen with my other gear this morning.”

Virgil looked over the edge of the platform, pushing back the wave of nausea that erupted in his stomach at the sight. The light level was so low, he was surprised Furnier could see anything, but then he fumbled at his shoulder and threw his light cannon on. A vial glinted in the sudden illumination, shards of glass surrounding it and contents soaked into the forest floor.

“Well, that sucks,” he said with a gasp, hauling himself backwards. Kayo guided him to the platform floor, laying him down carefully. The effort needed for even simple movements was increasing rapidly, and he panted with exertion as Kayo gently wiped the sweat out of his eyes. “Sorry to ruin everyone’s day, but what now?”

[Read Part 2]