#also my stove sucks for deep frying

[jacqcrisis]

Failed so bad at frying chicken tonight that I desperately made chocolate covered peanut butter crackers so I could have 1 (one) culinary win to stave off the Bad Cooking Depression.

[gundawifey-inactive]

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒'𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕪

Bo Sinclair x Fem! Reader Smut !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Bo has the tendency to compare his wife to his mom, and she's getting real sick of it. Tags. unprotected sex, p in v, housewife-reader, toxic/dysfunctional marriage, implied verbal abuse, mommy-kink, hurt/comfort, slightest breeding-kink, mommy-issues (Bo's, not child's), Bo & reader's son's name is Billy, (no use of y/n) Word Count. 2.9k

Droplets of scalding oil fly off the heavily greased pan and hit your skin like prickles, shit hurts. Not as much as your eardrums do, though, same as your other arm you aren't using to hold the handle of the pan that's carrying the twenty-five-pound toddler in your other arm that's screaming bloody murder. 

"'Wanna play outside! MORE PLAYTIME!" another shriek of baby babbles wrecks the barrier protecting the shell of your ear. You groan, attempting to bounce Billy while also attempting to not burn the dinner on the pan, yeah that'd hurt more. Bo's been working 'round Ambrose all day, as usual, you don't need two temper tantrums to deal with over a burnt supper.

"God damn.." You suck in a breath when Billy knees into your side and you almost drop the food cooking. He's a growing boy for sure, pudgy small legs of his grown enough to land some fatal kicks. Bo would've laughed, except it's not funny, not when you're the one dealing with the kid all day. "You can't go outside, it's late baby." You try and reason with the kid, but you know, he's a kid.

"No! Wanna play! WANNA PLAY OUTSIDE!" He retorts, it's a nonexistent counter-point, not like he could make one anyway, his vocabulary is as small as he is. 

Another bubble of sizzling oil scars your wrist shaking the pan and you damn near snap at it. All things considered, to say you were overwhelmed is an understatement. The grip you have on Billy snugs and you let go of the panhandle, leaving the frying food on the stove, instead drifting your full attention to Billy's. 

"Enough." You elongate your words, mommy voice pitching deep and you wrap both hands around him, staring him down. "Daddy's gonna be home soon and that means supper then bed for you, no more playtime, 'specially when it's dark out." You scold. Billy whines and tosses around in your arms, dramatic showmanship but doesn't screech back at you anymore, at least. 

At this point, your patience is out the window, and while thank god your ears ain't bleeding, you need the toddler to just calm down so you can get back to finishing up dinner. About to burst, the door swings open first, cutting off the next little lecture you were going to dump on Billy, familiar taps on the old wooded floor, Bo's home. 

His boot turns and he grins at you and Billy, stepping to the kitchen quickly. "How're my babies?" Bo said before he could really process the exact situation he stepped into. 

Turning to face Bo rather than the miniature of him in your arms, your brows furrow at him, and Billy just keeps, whining. Squirming around in your arms while you glare at Bo, not that you're mad at him, okay maybe you are but not justifiably, at the moment you're just mad. Bo doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around then to the stove. 

Shit, dinner. 

"You burnt supper," He gestures to the now char-blacked mix of ingredients inside the pan, nose and eyes crinkling in disgust at it. Funny, he's seen plenty of burnt shit, like corpses, but god forbid his dinner be burnt. 

You choose to ignore the statement. "Can you take him?" You ask instead, reaching your arms outward for Bo to take Billy out of them. He wails between your arms, tiny nails digging into your skin while you try to hand him to Bo, let him help out. 

"Can't handle him yourself?" Bo replies and doesn't take Billy out your arms, raising a judgemental brow at you. 

"Just take him so I can fix the food." You respond, nudging your chin up in the direction of Billy for Bo to take him, but he doesn't.

"Bo." His name parts from you in a restrained growl. 

Billy is out of your arms into Bo's now, but there isn't any sweetness in the expression Bo gives you when he does. Mercy isn't present in his gesture, taking the kid and giving you another judgy look in lieu of a willing expression as he does. 

Circling between the kitchen to living room Bo rocks Billy over his shoulder, letting him wail it out till he gets exhausted by his fit. Eventually, the whines soften to snores. A momentary silence as Bo rocks him in his arms, you opting out of remaking the earlier failed meal with Billy now sound asleep. For a second your eyes meet Bo's while you wash the burnt remains off of the pan, as he walks off with the sleeping toddler to put him to bed.

"Need help with that too?" He balances himself against the hardwood kitchen counter clicking his tongue from behind you, there's the tiniest amount of condescension in his voice. See that, that shit hurts a lot more than hot oil. Can't control that mouth of his, has a mind of its own, he told you once too many times by now when, if, he'd bother to check up on you after airing out his bullshit onto you. 

"No." You've learned not to engage with whatever got him pissed by now, not with Bo. Vincent doesn't, hell even Lester doesn't, why would you? Would be stupid to. Not like he hits you or anything anyway, just mouths off sick filth with absolutely no filter. Got the worst of tempers but he does enough gutting and beating in his own time when getting Vincent his wax muses.

A mock laugh erupts from Bo and he tilts himself forward to your side of the kitchen, leaning over the sink to look you in the eye. Once again, you ignore the bubbling rage emanating from him, boiling up. But you can handle heat. Spend half your day on the frypan taking care of the boys, even if it means the boys just burn you twice as much. 

Bo sucks in his teeth, and you can feel the room getting warmer, not the arousing kind, Bo's signature can be being a horny fucking mess, but also an angry one. "I don't get it." He scoffs, shaking his head at the unsaid words he isn't even gonna try and hold back on. "It's one kid, for fucks sake."

Now this, you know where this one's going. Reuccering theme of your husbands, the never-ending need to nitpick at your parenting. He bitches about damn well everything, but there are those times you feel the tips of your nerves itch all wrong, like a sixth sense at this point when he's about to spit those abhorrent words. 

"My Mama managed fine with three so," Ah, there it is, your least favourite words to ever grace God's green earth. Broken record at this point with how often Bo brings it up. 'My Mama never-' 'My Mama did-' Words that seemed to toss any left sanity you had in you into the fire you thought you had grown used to, but no you didn't. Because it burns more hellish each time it's said. 

"I'm sure she did." Your teeth grit while you speak feigning little control as you try and remain docile, not to fan the flame any further. 

"Shouldn't be burnin' dinner, you know your way 'round a fire." He adds, voice raising with each sentence. Damn straight you know your way around a fire, dealing with Bo's frenzies all the time, you've gone numb to the temperature he inflicts with his tongue.

"Billy was having a tantrum." You gently defend.

"You call that a tantrum?" Bo snorts, taunting the notion. "Small lil hissy-fit at best, darlin'. My Mama ain't never burnt no meals over my tantrums." 

"Well, I'm not your Mama." You snarl cutting him off, pupils jolting away from the dish you were scrubbing to Bo's. Sick and tired is one way to describe the crazy you were experiencing right now at Bo's statements. A band snapping in the kitchen between you and him 

The edge of his shoulders stiffens into a line, and for the first time since you've known him, you think you've burnt him instead. A woefully pathetic air casts in his over his eyes, turning pitiable. "No, you're not." He replies as if he's testing the words, tasting them in his mouth as he verbalizes them, and they taste bittersweet sort of wrong. An unfortunate truth. 

Not sure if you're more shocked at yourself, or Bo right now you simply pause at the sight. Bo is, in fact, not yelling back at you. Shutting you up in some pseudo-volume battle that'd sure to have woken up anyone asleep in the house. Instead, he just looks at you like a kicked dog, not too far from what he was, his life considered.

The air goes cold, bedsheets feeling extra plush around you, that sort of featherlight coolness engulfing you on the bed, odd. Rarely cold in Ambrose, even in the dead of night. Much less soft, you're more used to suffocating in heat, wax requires it to meld and shape, And Bo pours it out in all his hot-headed tantrums you get burdened with. 

Bed post creaking you look over your shoulder from your side and the familiar dip on the other side has Bo there finding his usual spot beside you. 

This isn't hellfire hot, this is limbo, off-putting quietude, yet not tranquil. A second passes and Bo just stares off at the rusted ceiling. Did you break Bo? Did you fuck it up this time, like seriously fuck it up with what you said? More disturbed by the blue tune of silence than hollering, you turn completely to him. 

"Uhm," You start, unsure of where you're going with your question. "You still mad at me?" If he was, you're sure you would've known it, Bo doesn't shy away from his anger or showcasing it. Still, you question. 

"I'm not mad at you, darlin'." Bo sighs, shutting his eyes to avoid yours, wrinkles of the eyelid creasing in some kind of negative emotion.

Gently rolling to Bo's side you land atop his chest pressing your cheek flat against it, hearing the thump of his heart, familiarized with it by now. His arm finds place around your side rubbing your back instinctively. "Just, you know, my Mama... My Mama was real different than ya. Different to how you're with Billy."

There's an internal tick being set off because you've heard him sing this song too many times, about his Mama. Not that you had anything against the lady, bless her for raising your man, and bless your man for respecting her, it's sweet. But it's the constant comparing that had you getting all worked up.

"Different to how you're with me..." He adds, swallowing back a lump, and perhaps if you haven't gone crazy officially, a tear as well. So, this is not where you were expecting the conversation to go. Bo's not mad, not picking at you for the expectation his mother set. 

"You're so, so patient. With Billy, with me." He praises, he's praising you. Not mad, not disappointed, grateful. "Don't hurt me, at all, only," He groans, the bridge of his brow pinching, eyes still shut as he speaks. A vulnerability in his tone. "You only do me good. Make me feel good."  He means it all, with complete genuineness. Almost as though he's shocked at you for it, 'cause Bo's never seen you hit Billy, the kid's only got scars from scruffy tree branches that scrapped his knees. Bo's are all too vivid, leather and duct tape that's no longer there but still stings in his wrists and ankles. Never knew a woman could get so gentle, not with how his mama was, yet you were.

You smooth a hand over his chest where you lay, up to his cheek, hovering over his waterline wiping off the tears before they've fallen with a soft motion. "Shh, Bo." You soothe.

"Christ darlin'. You're such a good Mommy..." Bo murmurs, releasing a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Disbelief apparent from the quake rumbling through the way he speaks right now. He mumbles something else intangible and pulls you flush closer to him. 

Sweat salts your skin, snapping hips up and down against each other room re-enveloped with familiar warmth while you swallow him whole. 

"O-Ohh.. S'good, such a good boy, Bo." You warble in mixed moans, absolutely drenching the sheets under the round of your ass Bo pounding languidly into your gushing cunt. Tips of your finger pushing indents into the muscle of his back. 

Fervor spilled through his mind as you tugged him down closer, pussy sucking him in the same. Pulling then pushing his cock by the full till the tip nearly slipped out then slamming in deeper. "Fuck yeah, feels good Mommy? I makin' you feel so good, huh?" He purred, dipping his head into the crook of your neck breath fanning right over your ears fuzzing out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. "Oh fuuuck, Grippin' me like crazy, Mommy." 

Saliva doused into the crook of your neck, Bo sucking in the skin and lapping at it. Wanting to kiss you whole, fuck you full. Maybe fill you with another baby, because you've done so well with the first he's given you. Another time, though, right now all that swelled was his cock lodged deep into you and awe in his mind. 

You tossed your legs around his waist, shivers twisting the inside of your abdomen, Bo fucks good every time. His mouth is so much more lovable stuck on the sensitive inches of your flesh making out hickeys and love bruises rather pissy words. "Close! Mommy's s-so close!" You gasp, tugging him closer, close as can be so his body heat can burn you right, the way you deserved it. 

Feeling you pull him till bodies melded like molten wax, and your insides warming his cock, clenching in a steady increase, Bo hugged his arms around your waist. Pelvis slamming harder, quicker against yours, increased pace jackhammering your cunt. 

"Cum f'me. Come on, Cum for me, pretty Mama. Cum all over my cock Mommy," His voice mumbled in a strained groan, bordering a whimper, heavy breathed against the sticky spot he'd left into the corner of your neck and shoulder while he pushes you to climax.

Felt good to burn like this, to be loved by Bo. Your brain turned to mush and white stars of bliss flooded from your spasming cunt to your brain. "Fuck, Ohh yes! Cumming! Cumming!" Gripping his cock so tight he almost came right there and then, but graced himself while he plunged deep into you restlessly, riding out the onslaught of euphoria that burned your veins. 

You were fucked out, that much was certain, first orgasm hit hard, harder than any words he could beat you with. Already stressed out day, Bo fixing that for you, dutiful husband the such. Rolling his hips in slower motions as you calm down from your high, your thighs clamp around his hips feeling the sting of sex continue passed your orgasm.  

"Stay wimme Mommy, gimme one more, yeah?" Bo tilted his head, raising it so it hovered over your forehead, staying atop you with a lustful adoration in his eyes. He was lucky, that much was certain. Not much luck in his life, crazy dead daddy and mommy, favourite freak of a twin brother, got you though. He got himself the sweetest baby mama a man could ask for. That shit is the best luck if he'd ever felt it.

"One more, sweet Mommy, and I'll fuck ya full. Mhm?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours and snapping his cock into you, regaining his previous pace as your pussy relaxed around him. Building his thrusts back into quickness while hugging you close, kissing you with love.

You warmed impossibly hot, like an unbridled flame. Clinging to him while he does to you, because you're his everything, because you're his wife, his mommy, his darling. "O-Oh, Oh god Mommy, gonna... Gonna-" Bo choked out, cock throbbing in you with each slap of his balls against your ass. body churning and tense fucking you quick as could be.

"Me too- Oh fuck!" You felt it coming harder than a tidal wave this time, Bo nearing his as well. Your eyes rolled behind your skull and Bo slammed his lips to yours again to shut his own pornish moans from spilling out, your pussy driving him to pure rapture.  

Ecstasy ran through you two's bodies and he delved his cock straight into you in a final thrust of needed high, balls tightening and spilling deep into you with strangled cries of pleasure filling your lips that parted his. Teeth clattering messily against each other while he rode out his high in your spasming pussy, you washing into the second state of bliss the night cumming hard around his cock.

Bo could be a horrid husband at times, but God be damned, was he a grateful one. So grateful, wanted to send you to heaven, and push you through it over and over. Hoping to keep the fire churning in you forever. 

But for now, his dick was spent. And his Mommy was already exhausted as be taking care of his kid all day, and also getting fucked stupid by him. He pulled out with a grunt and flopped to his side in the bed. "Supper would've been good, now." He mumbles in a snort, wrapping his loose-jointed arm around your waist and rubbing a hand over your bare curves.

"Don't even start.." You grumble softly, before letting out a soft giggle, the type that makes him go stupider than emptying his balls in you. A dumb grin overtook his face and he smiled at you, rolling slightly in the bed to face you. 

"Sorry, darlin'." Sorry's only happen after Bo fucked you, not after he yells, never after he scalds you with words. But you'll take it, if it meant getting dicked down by the best man in Ambrose. 

"It's okay." You reply in a soft sigh, nuzzling against him. His perfect Mommy.  

[xmariiitamiiix]

A fly caught in a Spider's Web: Suguru Geto x Reader: Chapter 4

We are about to have our next face to face with Geto next chapter

𝓨𝓪𝔂

Now with that out of the way please enjoy this chapter

“Now listen, I am not trying to insinuate anything, but I am curious,” your mother says as she sits across from you, eating the hamburger you made. “Why did you come to my house at midnight?” she asks, her eyes looking you over as you eat a fry.

“It’s complicated,” you reply, your eyes cast down on your plate. Your mother lowers her head to meet your eyes.

“Hello, Y/n, I’m right here,” she says. You meet your mother’s eyes, and she smiles. “I’m your mother; you should be able to tell me these types of things.”

You nod. “I know, it’s… it’s really just complicated, Mom.”

Suguru Geto—he was a tall man, almost about 6’0", but man, did he have the prettiest long black hair you’d ever seen. It looked so silky, even from the stage where you were watching him before he confronted you and showed how much of a crazy man he was. His facial features were sharp, and his eyes were a lovely violet color, but those dark blue gauges showed you that he knew how to have fun. Though now that you were thinking about it, he probably had too much fun.

The light flickers.

“Hm? That was odd,” your mother says as she looks at the dining room light above you two.

“...Right,” you reply as your eyes also go towards the light. Your mother looks back at you for a moment before she starts to rub her shoulder.

“Those lights are new—just got them changed,” she says as the lights flicker again.

“Ugh,” she sighs, continuing to rub her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, concerned.

“Nothing, it’s just my shoulder has been aching a lot lately for some reason.”

You frown. “That sucks.”

Your mother nods in agreement and smiles. She folds her arms against her chest. “Yeah, that sucks alright.” Her eyes drift to the couch, then back to you. “You know, maybe you should go back home to get more things,” she says as you look over at the couch, then at her.

“To get more comfortable,” she clarifies, shaking her head. “You were so excited to move and go out deeper into the great city. It would be a shame to have you cooped up here in Momma’s nest again.”

You nod as your mind drifts to the flickering dining room light from a few seconds ago. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I’ll be having work tomorrow anyway,” you reply.

I don’t want any of my bad juju rubbing off on Mom, you think.

After leaving your mother’s house, the drive back to your place is rather uneventful—for the first time in a while—that is, until you unlock your door.

“What the…” your kitchen chair is in the living room, and the recliner chair is faced toward it. Your eyes move to the television stand, where you see the picture frame of you, your mother, your sister, and her kids at the beach. You close the door, not daring to go inside just yet, as you let out a deep sigh and rest your back against the wall.

“Why me?”

After a moment of collecting yourself, you place your hand around the door knob again, but before opening the door, you look down and find a card on the ground.

“A card?” You bend down and pick it up.

The Ascendant Star Order?

You fold up the card and enter your apartment, closing and locking the door behind you. Tossing the card into the trash, you take a look around your kitchen. Pots and pans are on the stove. You walk in, peeking inside them, finding nothing. Your eyes shift to the dining room, where all the chairs are in their proper place, except the one kitchen chair still in your living room. The random placement of your objects makes you curious about your bedroom. You grab a pair of scissors and start your venture.

Your eyes scan the white walls of the hall leading to your bedroom. On the way, you open the closet door, angling the scissors upwards just in case, only to find nothing. You move on, walking into your bedroom with a frown.

You always close your bedroom door.

Everything in your bedroom is exactly how you left it, minus the picture frame still in the living room. You get on your knees and look under the bed, finding nothing. You move towards the closet, look around, and again, nothing. You go to the bathroom, inspecting it, but everything looks to be in place.

“I’ve got to change my locks.” You walk back to the apartment door. “Fuck what the landlord says,” you mutter as you grab your keys, phone, and bag, heading to your car.

On your way out, the apartment building hall light above you flickers once, then again. You look up at the light.

“What a shitty apartment.” You swing the apartment building door open and head to your car. “Can’t wait to leave this apartment.”

You reach for your car door handle, but halt as you spot another card on your windshield. You pick it up and turn it over.

The Ascendant Star Order. Feel free to call us at XXX-XXX-XXXX.

“Tsk, again.” You open your driver’s door and enter your car, crumbling up the card into a ball and tossing it behind your seat.

The drive to the hardware store is uneventful, as is getting everything you need to change the locks on your apartment door. Thank God for how-to videos.

It doesn’t even take long before you’re done installing the new locks. Now, you’re sitting on your couch in the apartment, greeted by your not-so-friendly house guests, as the smell of rot returns.

“Damn it, I really should have just stayed at my mother’s place,” you groan. “I could have just... fuck.” You look at your television as it turns on.

“I’m not interested in TV, screw off,” you say, and the television turns off. You chuckle lightly, but it soon fades as the apartment lights flicker. You stand, looking at the lights before glancing towards the kitchen as some cabinets fly open. You take a deep breath.

“Home sweet home.” Your lip wobbles, but you suck it up and enter the kitchen to close the cabinets. “I pay too much in rent to be scared of some ghosts,” you say, your voice shaky as you rub your shoulder. “Stupid.” Your voice wobbles again as you kick the last lower cabinet shut.

“You know, maybe you should go back home and get more things,” your mom’s voice says from behind you. You turn around.

“You know, maybe you should go back home and get more things.” You turn forward.

“You know, maybe you should go back home and get more things.” Your head turns to your left, then your right, as you start crying.

“GO AWAY!” your mother’s voice yells as you run to your bedroom. You close and lock the door, jumping into bed, crying.

“Why, why, WHY?!” you scream into your pillow.

You have a hard time sleeping that night. The sensations of being watched and the soft buzzing intensify each time you close your eyes, along with the overwhelming sense of something approaching you. That sensation stops only when you open your eyes. It gnaws at you, and the fact that someone got into your apartment, even though you changed the locks, doesn’t make things easier. You close your eyes again, only to be greeted by the grotesque image of a dark figure with large eyes and a smile. It tilts its head as if trying to get a better look at you before you open your eyes.

“Okay, Miss Cranky Puss, who peed in your Cheerios today?” Rita asks as you look over at her. “Damn girl, did you even sleep?” she leans forward.

“No, I haven’t gotten any sleep at all,” you say, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

“Now, I remember telling you that the last conversation we had was far from over, so...” Rita opens her palm toward you. “You got the stage, lay it down on me.”

You look back at your computer, then at her. “Are you sure you want to hear my mess?”

Rita nods. “You hear mine all the time, why not?” she responds.

You nod in agreement. “I guess you have a point.”

Rita swats at your arm. “You weren’t supposed to agree,” she teases, and you laugh.

“I just... I think I’m being haunted, basically,” you reply.

Rita nods. “...Okay then…” She drums her fingers against her thighs. “Well, what’s making you think that?” she asks.

“Well, I have these sensations of being watched, you know, by something. Then there’s this smell of rot that I couldn’t get out no matter how hard I scrubbed my floors. Then there was...” You pause.

I can’t talk about the voices. She already seems turned off from this; I don’t need her thinking I’m crazy, you think.

“But also, I found some furniture in my apartment moved around, and it wasn’t me. Nor did I have a friend house-sit. I was at my mother’s because she was lonely,” you fib.

Rita leans back. “Y/n, that is scary as hell. What do you mean, stuff was moved in your apartment and you weren’t even there? That’s insane.” Rita leans in again. “Are you sure no one tried to steal from you or something?”

“Everything was untouched, besides the things they did move,” you respond.

“So someone broke into your apartment—that’s what it sounds like to me, besides the other weird shit, right?”

You nod in agreement. “That’s how my life is going right now.”

Rita nods as she remembers something. “Oh yeah.” She stands and goes to her cubicle, then hands you a card. “This really hot monk guy gave me this card and told me to give it to you. I don’t know why, but there.”

Your heart drops as you read the card.

The Ascendant Star Order. Call us now at XXX-XXX-XXXX. From, Geto.

You gulp. “You said a really hot monk guy?”

Rita nods. “He had long black hair, smoldering violet eyes, tall and lean. I’d jump if I wasn’t on my way to work.”

You snort, but anxiety pools in your stomach at the description. “He didn’t tell you his name or anything?” you ask.

“Geto was all that he gave me,” Rita says.

You crumble the card into a ball and toss it in the trash. “It’s no good.”

“Hey, that was the number to reach the really hot monk guy!” Rita whines as she fishes it out of the trash. “Here, in case you change your mind. It’ll be in my junk drawer,” she says, placing it in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“I’d have to be very desperate before I’d ever use that,” you reply.

Rita frowns and sits down at her desk. “What? You got a thing against hot monks?” she sasses.

Yeah, if said hot monk is that crazy bastard, you think, as you reply, “He probably wasn’t even that hot anyway.”

Rita shakes her head. “Trust me, if you saw him, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

You frown this time. Geto was hot, but he was crazy. And while crazy and hot was, well, hot… this was real life, and things don’t end up well with such a combination.

“You know, he was kind of prissy,” Rita says. “He was all like, trying to keep his distance from me like I was sick with the plague or something.” She mocks Geto, holding her arm out and leaning back. “But he was hot, so I’ll let it slide.” Rita smirks.

You shake your head, smiling. “Hot people have to have some flaws, don’t they?” you reply, and Rita hums in agreement.

After another tiring day at work, you walk out to your car. As you reach for the driver’s side handle, your eyes zone in on a card. You let out a sigh and grab it.

The Ascendant Star Order. Call us now at XXX-XXX-XXXX.

You scoff and crumble it up. A voice whispers against your ear.

“Might want to give that phone number a call.”

You jolt and turn around, only to see nothing.

“Come on, don’t you want to make all those nasty spirits disappear?” the voice nags. You turn towards the direction of the voice again, but once again, there’s nothing.

Make them disappear?

You enter your car, gazing down at your steering wheel.

Right, that Suguru Geto guy can make them all disappear.

Your hands clench your steering wheel tightly.

But why him? Why, out of all who could help me, does it have to be them?

You close your eyes as the sounds of the distorted whining of cursed spirits surround you. You place your hand on your upper arm, rubbing it where Geto had grabbed you the first time you met.

“Shit.”

Should I go?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Honestly if I were in their shoes I would have already been shitting bricks by now so yeah.

[fuckkbrunch]

Oysters were on sale, soooo...

Lemme just say, I'm not huge on seafood. I like shrimp, and a good fish and chips a couple times a year, and that's about as far as I go. The smell when I opened these oysters made me instantly unhappy, but the end product was surprising.

I took the risk and just deep fried these in a pot on my stove. My thermometer sucks, so it was a bit of messy start but I got all the oysters fried off pretty fast. Simple buttermilk soak and corn meal dredge. Salt the dredge more heavily than you think you should, he doesn't give an amount.

I have such a small, dark kitchen. Yes that's a toaster under my veg cutting board. I'm also using a random dish rack as a cooling rack here...

Now, I tried to make Tony's homemade mayo recipe here. I can make homemade mayonnaise in my sleep, I've literally made thousands of litres of it during an old kitchen manager gig a decade ago. That goes out the window when I realized (after the fact) my canola oil was rancid and my freshly made mayo tasted like an old kitchen rag. So I settled for store brand, which the recipe also says is acceptable.

I think this needs all the things it calls for in the recipe, even the optional pickles. If it didn't have the pickle, the fishy flavour would really punch you in the face. Root beer on the side was also a perfect palette reset, and I'm not a big fan of pop either.

We added additional hot sauce, which really improved it. The two of us powered through and finished the whole thing, but you'll definitely be eating light the rest of the day after that. If not straight up napping.

Tony says to serve with Barqs root beer, and we looked everywhere. Even stores I was SO SURE had it. Alas, we had to settle for Mug. Flavour is probably arguably similar, but still annoys me.

| Oyster Po'Boy |

Difficulty is a 3 out of 5. Deep frying is a little tricky, and it's a little bit of mise en place. Then the soak and dredge.

Taste is a 3 out of 5. Fishy, but tangy and crunchy. Refreshing lettuce and tomato. Add more Louisiana hot sauce.

Total time was 1 hour. 15 minutes of veg prep, 30 minutes soaking the oysters, 15 minutes cook time. Assembly time may vary.

I wanna try this again in the summer, with deep fried shrimp. I think they'll have a much nicer texture than the oysters.

[keiluvsu]

— nasty , k. bakugo.

↳ pairings: pro hero!katsuki bakugo x female reader.

↳ genre: pro hero au, nsfw.

↳ warnings: kitchen sex, spit play, spanking, teasing, edging, oral sex (receiveing).

“don’t wanna wait on it, tonight i wanna get nasty.”

“ah, cmon!” you rolled your eyes as you peered over at the tv in the living room. you were watching family feud, as you were also cooking. “you shouldn’t get distracted while chopping vegetables,” your husband’s voice rang in your ears and you scoffed at the thought. nonetheless, you paid attention to the vegetables you were cutting.

your eyes quickly flickered from the green onions on the cutting board to the clock on the wall; 7:24, it read. you were humming a song in your head when the door swung open. “shit!” you jumped a little, quickly dropping the knife on the board. “dammit, katsuki!” you rolled your eyes, your hand on your chest.

“you scared the crap out of me!” you wiped your hands on a paper towel and walked out the kitchen to the front door that was left open. you closed it and immediately turned to your husband, seeing the distress on his face. you shivered as you locked the door and walked over to him, crossing your arms.

“what happened?” your face softened as he sat on the couch. “i had a stressful fucking day, that’s what fucking happened.” he grumbled, not daring to look at you. you didn’t say anything but walk behind the couch, resting your hands on his shoulders. he tensed up more and you quickly moved your hands, rolling your eyes before walking back in the kitchen.

it was silent, other than the sound of the tv in the living room. you finished cutting the onions and dumped them in the frying pan, humming at the sizzle. you went back to the counter, putting the cutting board and knife in the sink. you were about to take off your apron when you felt big, calloused hands wrap around your waist and a head fall onto your shoulder.

“what the— katsuki?!” you sighed, your hands resting on the edge of the counter. “you and your fucking mood swings..” you mumbled as he left kisses on your neck. “cmon, i need to get some rest before i have to get back to the food,” you tried to get him off but he pressed himself onto you more.

“katsuki...” you partly whined as he started sucking on the skin of your neck. “shut the fuck up, i need this stress relief.” he muffled into your neck, but you heard him completely. “kat-” you got cut off by bakugo pushing your back down onto the counter.

he pulled down your shorts, smirking at the sight. “aw, you’re wearing my favorite panties.” he chuckled, sending a harsh slap to your ass. you let out a whine, making his dick harder. he pressed himself onto you, grunting at the friction. “katsuki, shit— please.” you tugged your lips inbetween your teeth, feeling yourself get wetter by the second.

“please? please. that’s all i get? you can do better, i know you can.” he stopped moving, making you whimper. “katsuki- please, just- shit..please...” you closed your eyes from embarrassment. you hated begging. “please? please what?” he cocked an eyebrow. “...please, touch me— just- just touch me..” you begged as best as you could.

he wrapped his left hand around your neck, forcing your head back so you could look at him. “look at me.” he deadpanned. you opened your eyes and saw that stupid fucking smirk on his face. “aw, my baby looks so embarrassed. is that right? you’re embarrassed?” he laughed, sending another slap to your ass. your body jumped as the sting flowed through your body.

he crashes his lips onto your, his hand still forcing your head back. his warm tongue entered your mouth, making you moan into the kiss. his fingers then pushed your panties aside, pushing one in. your face scrunched up as you two continued kissing.

he then added another finger and slowly curled them inside as they went deeper. you struggled to kiss him back as you breathed heavily. a smirk curled on his face again and he pulled away from the kiss. “open your mouth.” he demanded. you obeyed him and moans escaped your lips as he rocked his fingers in and out of you. your moans encouraged him to go faster and your body was starting to shake from the feeling.

he spit in your mouth, “swallow it.” he let go of your neck and you obeyed, moaning again as he picked up the pace of his fingers. “i’m— shit— i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, gripping onto the table as hard as you could. bakugo’s fingers went deeper inside of you and he curled them harshly, hitting the spongy part inside of you.

“oh my- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckkkk!!” your face scrunched up as you came all over his fingers. “katsuki- oh my god-” you breathed out shakily as he finger fucked you through your orgasm. he took out his fingers and put them in his mouth, sucking them clean. your head was on the counter and your eyes were closed, you chest heaving up and down.

you didn’t notice that bakugo had turned off the stove and he walked right back up behind you, pulling down his pants along with his boxers until you felt his tip press against you. “wha— you’re not...you’re not done?” you gripped the counter once again. “of course i’m not fucking done, who the hell do you think i am?” he laughed, gripping your waist as he pushed himself inside of you. “shit!” you moaned out, biting your lip harshly.

he slowly pulled out, and went back in. he did thst a couple of times, “katsuki— just fuck me...please- just fuck me!” you whined out, pushing your ass back to try to get him inside of you. he harshly slapped your ass again, making you whine and stop. “relax, you damn brat.” he pushed into once again, making sure he went all the way in.

“fuck!” you yelled out loud enough that you thought the neighbors would hear you. his tip kissed your cervix everytime he thusted into you. he pulled your hips back into him during every thrust, the sound of your ass slapping into him and his balls hitting your clit filling the room. “you’re doing so well for me baby, fuck— just like that.” a faint blush was dusted over his cheeks as he thrusted into you.

“katsuki,” you moaned out his name in an attempt to talk. “yes, baby?” he cooed, making you clench on him. “g- shit...i’m gonna...cum...again....” it was hard for you to form proper words, seeing as you were getting fucked like crazy. he didn’t say anything, instead, he stopped moving and pulled you up so your back was against his chest.

he moved one of his hands under your shirt, massaging your breast as the other found its way to your clit. he began thrusting again and you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth. he started rubbing your clit as he fucked you, getting you closer and closer.

you were about to cum when he pulled out of you. you body went limp in his arms and he held you up, chuckling at your fucked out expression.

“why..why’d you— you stopped...why did you stop?” your breath hitched. “because i can.” he simply replied, hearing you whimper. he turned you over so you were facing him and lifted you up, placing you onto the counter. he got onto his knees and opened your legs. he practically drooled at how wet you were and immediately attached his lips to your clit. “oh yes...” you whimpered, tangling your hands in his hair. he nipped and sucked on your clit, bringing you close again.

he stopped again and you whined, “what the hell? again?” your body shifted, begging for a release. “like i said before, relax you fucking brat. be patient.” he stood up and moved you to the edge of the counter. he picked up one of your legs and put it on his shoulder. he put his hand on your hip and pushed into you once again, groaning.

you twitched around him, immediately gripping him. “shit baby, tryna make me cum already?” he hummed, slowly pushing in and out of you. “faster, kat, please...” you whined, not caring what you were saying. ���only since you asked so nicely,” he sarcastically said, thrusting faster. after every thrust you would grip around him, making him fuck you harder and faster.

he leaned his head on your shoulder, looking down at how he was going in and out of you rapidly. “kat,” you whined. “i want you to fill me...cum inside of me...please...” you mumbled, feeling fucked out. bakugo cant say he hasn’t fantasized about filling you up with his cum, thinking about your expression as he fucked his cum inside of you.

“i’m- fuck, kat— i’m cumming!” you moaned breathlessly, clenching around him. “fuck, baby, cum with me.” he started fucking you even harder, your moans encouraging him. the word ‘fuck’ left his lips a few times before you came all around him, your hips bucking. he held you tight and close as he went all balls deep inside of you, filling you up completely.

your pussy fluttered in pleasure as you panted heavily. your arms gripped onto his shoulder as he fucked his cum deep inside of you, also helping you ride out your orgasm. you guys stood there for a few seconds, before your eyes widened.

“the foo-” you let out a sigh of relief seeing the stove off. “kat...i need to finish dinner. you didn’t eat yet.” you sighed.

“i’ve had my fill for the day baby.” he kissed your neck lightly, pulling out of you. “cmon, let’s get you cleaned up.” he helped you off the counter.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 13, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 12, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

CHAPTER WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink

First rewritten reworking 06/17/2023

Second rewritten reworking 10/04/2024

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1092

I was doing inventory on the food in the Bradley triplets’ cooler when Peter wandered into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee before standing back to watch me putter about.

“You want me to make you some breakfast?” I asked him as I avoided his gaze, rushing about awkwardly as I tried to avoid the elephant in the room.

 “Can you look at me, please sweetheart?” I forced my eyes up to look at my soulmate. “What’s wrong?”

 “Last night…” I trailed off awkwardly. “Where do we stand? I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

 “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing either,” he murmured softly, placing his hand on my shoulders.

 “It felt nice, what you did to me,” I confessed, bringing his hand up to my cheek and leaning my petite body into his touch. “Does sex feel like that?”

 He sucked in a mouthful of air and fell into a crouch, meeting me at eye level.

 “I think the best way to answer that question is to experience it for yourself,” he told me with honesty in his voice. “I’m not comfortable telling you what my experience with sex is.”

 “Oh okay, I understand,” I mumbled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Is this okay?”

 Peter only closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his face as I pressed my soft body into his hard muscles, wrapping my arms loosely around his shoulder. He sighed happily as I began to hum a sweet song to him.

 “So what are you doing for today, sweetheart?” he asked, finger combing my curls.

 “Again, I need to deliver bread to Father Kevin for service today, and a few other places requested my homemade bread so I’m going to deliver to them as well. I could use your help, I think,” I listed off the top of my head. “Want to try some? I baked two dozen loaves this past week.”

  I turned back to look for breakfast and came up with a box of pancake mix.

 “How many do you want?” I asked him as I quickly prepared a bowl of pancake mix. “I’m making six for myself.”

 “I’ll also have six,” he answered.

 “I make fat ass pancakes, so if you want more, let me know and I’ll fix some up for you,” I said as I poured the first pancake into the pan and stood above it with a spatula in hand. I had eggs scrambling in another pan and bacon frying in a third. “Can you slice up a loaf of bread for toast for me, please?” I pointed a knife over towards a covered basket. Peter removed the cover and looked at the many loaves of home baked bread.

 “Any loaf?” he called as his hand hovered over the basket. “It doesn’t matter?”

 “They’re all the same,” I responded. He selected a loaf at random and unwrapped it before beginning to slice it with a bread knife. Through our bond, his mouth began to water as he took in a deep inhale of homemade bread.

 “There’s butter in the cooler, could you go ahead and grab it for me?” I asked next, taking the sliced bread and beginning to toast it on the stove. “Gramercy.”

 Peter set the tub of butter next to me and leaned in, placing an arm on either side of me, safely caging me in.

 “When do you want to get married?” he suddenly asked, the thought occurring to him.

 “Why, you excited?” I teased as I flipped one pancake onto a plate before pouring more batter into the pan. “Not until after little girl is born- New York has a law where no matter who the dad is, the husband’s name is required to be on the birth certificate. And I don’t want your name on the birth certificate- she isn’t yours, she’s Aaron’s and James’ daughter. I just don’t want to deal with the legality issues there.” I finished another pancake and poured more mix into the pan. “She’s due in less than fourteen weeks, so we still have time.”

 “Fourteen weeks to find a house and move into a safer neighborhood,” Peter mused out loud. “It’s a tight deadline, but perfectly achievable.”

 “Are you alright with house hunting on your own?” I asked him, reaching up to wrap my arm around his neck. “I’d like to avoid as much stress as I can.”

 “I don’t want to say yes to a house and end up with you hating it,” Peter told her. “What are your must haves?”

 “A big kitchen- I do all the cooking in the apartment I share with my sisters,��� she told him, finishing up breakfast. “A tub in the master bathroom- though I’ve been needing help getting out these past few weeks.”

 “Big kitchen, bathtub, got it,” Peter nodded. “Anything else?”

 “A big backyard, if possible,” I shrugged. “I like to entertain and stuff- it comes from being in a big family, I guess. What about you? What are your must haves when your house hunting?”

 “Well, I prefer to be in the Brooklyn area, as how I grew up in the Red Hook area,” he started off with, folding himself up into a corner. “I like nature, so preferably in the middle of green and with no one else around for miles. A big garage where I can work on my car, and a big workroom where I can work on little odds and ends.”

 “And a recording studio?” I suggested, turning to hand him a pale that was full of food, coupled with a sweet smile. “Order up!”

  Gramercy, thank you, Old French?

 TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

 If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

 PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a​

@rockstarslutt​

@angelxfuckk​

[fxcking-anon]

Red Cardigan

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: None :)

Word Count: 2,017

A/N: I just can’t stop thinking about how cute this would be and I’m touch starved from quarantine, what else can I say? (@random-ravings you asked and you shall receive.) Also, it has been years since I’ve written so cut me a tiny bit of slack as I get back on the horse...also I’ve never written a reader insert before lol. 

P.S. I did proofread this but I’m also tired and maybe a little tipsy so....

----------

Your eyes fluttered open, met with bright sun streaming in between the slats of your bedroom blinds. You squinted and stretched, letting your back crack as you sat up. You instantly regretted it. The covers had fallen from your chest, leaving you exposed to the icy temperatures of your apartment. Looking around, you found something red and soft folded on your nightstand. You quickly pulled it on, buttoning it as fast as you can with your numb fingers. 

As you covered your hands with the sleeves, you realized this was Spencer’s cardigan. His cologne lingered, making you smile as you took in a deep breath. You looked to your left to see him, still asleep and hugging his pillow. His face was always so peaceful when he slept. Spencer cared so much about his cases, something you absolutely adored about him. However, it did make you sad to see how he carried that stress with him. So often you caught him staring off into space, brows furrowed and fingers tapping on his thigh. Asleep, Spencer’s whole body was relaxed. His breaths were deep and even. He didn’t clench his jaw or his shoulders. He just...was. You smiled as you stared at him. It was hard not to, he just looked so soft and small. 

He let out a small sigh and squeezed the pillow a little tighter, making your heart flutter. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his temple. He smiled in his sleep, making your heart swell even more. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. 9:13 am. You and Spencer rarely had a morning to sleep in together. Your work schedules were unpredictable, both of you often getting called in at the last minute. So you decided to make the most of the morning. 

You braced yourself for the cold of the apartment as you peeled off the covers and stepped onto the hardwood. Pulling out the drawer of the nightstand, you pulled out your thickest pair of fuzzy socks slipped your feet into them. You then slid over to the dresser to pull on some underwear. Spencer had rid you of those early last night. When you both knew you had the next morning off, you made the most of it the night before. You glanced briefly at the bit of exposed skin on your chest, finding it littered with love bites, and giggled. Spencer had a habit of leaving marks. He would never say it, but he liked seeing physical proof you were his. And honestly, so did you. You always found yourself disappointed as they faded. 

You tiptoed your way into the small kitchen of your apartment, lightly shutting the bedroom door on your way. Knowing there were fresh blueberries in the fridge, you decided to whip up one of Spencer’s favorites, blueberry pancakes. Before you pulled out the pancake mix, you started a pot of coffee. Your boyfriend’s caffeine addiction had gotten to the point where he couldn’t function without at least two cups of coffee. Rather than try to have a conversation with a walking zombie, you learned to have coffee on hand when he rose from the dead. 

You were just about finished stirring the blueberries into the batter when you heard shuffling behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned around to see Spencer, wrapped in a cable knit blanket, standing in the kitchen door frame. His eyes were half shut, resisting the natural light pouring through the kitchen windows. It certainly didn’t help that two inches of snow had accumulated the night before, reflecting everything off of the bright white surface. 

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you smiled at him as you turned back to your batter. You quickly ran your hand under the faucet and flicked a few water droplets onto your frying pan. Hearing them sizzle, you rummaged around a drawer for a ladle. You could hear Spencer shuffle over to the coffee pot and pull a mug out of the cabinet. You ladled the first three pancakes into the pan before turning to your boyfriend again. He was in the middle of adding a fifth spoonful of sugar to his coffee when he sensed your eyes on him and turned.

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy and low. You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around him, letting him pull his blanket around the both of you. Between the blanket, his sweater and him, his scent flooded your body. You wanted to freeze that moment and stay there forever. It wasn’t that you didn’t love the more spontaneous moments of your relationship. There, right in that moment, you were just completely at peace. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beat and his warmth radiated into you. This was true contentment. This was peace. “Baby, as much as I love your hugs, your pancakes are going to burn,” Spencer said, releasing his hold on you. You leaned up to give him a quick peck before grabbing your spatula and flipping the pancakes over. 

“Do you want to grab some plates? I was going to set the table before I went to wake you up. Seems that coffee went and did that for me instead.”

Spencer just hummed in agreement before beginning to set your kitchen table. You flipped the pancakes one more time, making sure they were golden brown on both sides. Right as you were piling them onto the spatula, you heard Spencer take in a sharp breath.

“Is that...is that my cardigan?” His stare was intense as he raked his eyes down your body from your semi exposed chest to where the cardigan rested at the tops of your thighs. 

You rounded the table to place the three pancakes on his plate, standing between his legs. “It is, you left it on the nightstand and it looked so warm. It’s freezing in the apartment today,” you leaned down to peck his nose when he lightly grabbed the back of your neck and guided you into a deeper kiss. Pulling you onto his lap, he started to pepper kisses down your neck. You let out a light moan as he lightly sucked on one of the marks he’d left last night. 

Bringing his lips to your ear, he mumbled in his gruff morning voice, “I knew I liked you in my clothes Y/N, but this has to be my new favorite.” You lifted a hand under his chin to pull his lips back to yours. The kiss was soft and slow, making you feel just the slightest bit lightheaded. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away, moving to get up to flip the second round of pancakes. His hands slid to your hips and held you for a second. “The pancakes,” you whined at him, shuffling a little bit to try and wiggle from his grip. He pressed another kiss to your lips before releasing you. Even as you turned your back to him to tend to your breakfast, you could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your back. You flipped the pancakes smoothly, refusing to let yourself turn around to meet his gaze just yet. As badly as you wanted him, your anxiety was screaming that the apartment would catch on fire if you left the frying pan unattended again. So you stood there, still, feeling his eyes on you as you waited for the second round of pancakes to brown. When they finally did, you stacked them on your spatula again and turned off the stove top. 

Turning around, you found Spencer halfway through his pancakes. You deposited your pancakes on your own plate and sat down. Your pancakes, however, remained untouched. Now it was you who was staring. His hair curled around his face and stuck up at strange angle in the back. He hadn’t yet had his daily fight with his cowlick. He’d tied his blanket around his neck like a cape so he could have his hands free to eat. It amazed you sometimes how he could be both adorable and drop dead sexy at the same time. Noticing you were staring, Spencer’s eyes flitted up to meet yours. His fork hovered halfway between the plate and his mouth. It took him a moment before he decided to set it down. He sat upright and continued to hold your gaze.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. You felt the blush rush to your cheeks as you broke the gaze. You turned away from him, fixating your eyes on the grout between the kitchen tiles. “Y/N,” Spencer said, urging you to look at him again. You turned back to him hesitantly, barely meeting his gaze. You knew Spencer loved you, that he thought all those wonderful things about you. However, it didn’t make it any easier for you to accept his compliments. Years of insecurity and toxic relationships will do that to a person. 

You met his eyes tentatively. “Yes?”

“You are so, so beautiful,” Spencer said again. “Your mind, your soul, your body...they’re all so very beautiful.” You blushed even harder this time and forced yourself to maintain the eye contact. “Every day,” Spencer continued, “I’m amazed by how beautiful your heart is. You care so much about people and you would give any and everything for the people you love. It makes you radiant. You just radiate love and kindness and positivity.”

You wanted to go to him. You wanted to take his face in your hands and kiss every square inch of it. You wanted to show him just how deeply you loved him. Spencer was always better with words than you were. It certainly helped that he had every word in the dictionary permanently imprinted in his brain. 

You decided to go to him. You stood and walked around the table before perching on the edge of the table right in front of him. “I love you,” you whispered, cupping his chin in between your hands. He leaned forward to catch your lips in his again. He kissed you slowly, taking his time. He tasted like maple syrup and coffee and in that moment, that combination was the most divine taste in the world. It was your nectar of the gods. He ran his hands up your sides, once again pulling you into his lap. He chuckled into your kiss and you pulled away to look at him quizzically.

“You feel so soft,” Spencer said, chuckling again as he ran his hands over the fabric of his cardigan.

“Babe, this is yours. You wear this. All the time.” Your brow was furrowed as you cocked your head to the side to stare at him.

“I know! But I never feel the outside of it like this. I like it, it’s warm.” He proceeded to bury his face in your chest to press the soft fabric to his face. You laughed as he pulled you closer, his face settled directly between your breasts.

“Spence!” you giggled, “That tickles!” His hair was brushing lightly against your skin as you squirmed against him, just tickling you further. Somehow, you managed to slip from his grip and hop off the table. 

As you ran from the kitchen, Spencer jumped up to chase you. “Y/N,” he whined, “Baby, come back!” He caught up to you quickly. His long legs gave him that advantage in your tiny apartment. He grabbed your waist from behind, tugging you into his chest. You spun around to face him and roped your arms over his shoulders. 

“I like you in my cardigan, Y/N,” Spencer said again, softly as his lips pressed to your ear. 

“Funny, I thought you’d like me better without it,” you said, a coy smile creeping onto your face. His expression darkened slightly. You knew what buttons to push to get a reaction out of him. Spencer liked to be right, he always had to come out on top. 

“Oh, so you want to play dirty?” Spencer challenged back. Before you knew what was happening, he’d scooped you up over his shoulder and started towards the bedroom. “Fine, let’s play dirty.”

[hunflowers]

based on this i posted last night teehee and maybe i got a little carried away but enjoy! *nose boops*

you had an exhausting night. truly, it was exhausting, and to top it off, you had an exhausting morning.

you supposed it was all of your fault because you hardly let you and harry sleep, but who could blame you? your boyfriend was a godsend who also happened to know just exactly how to treat you right in bed.

so, you wanted him over and over and over and over again. then you slept for a couple of hours, and you wanted him over and over and over again.

you hadn’t seen him for a little while and what other way was there to declare your love so passionately after a leave of absence? you guys were on your third round this morning, and you both were completely knocked out but it was worth it, it really was.

with one final thrust into your aching and dripping wet pussy, harry dropped all of his weight on top of you, the both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. a very, very long marathon.

your eyes fluttered shut as a wave of tiredness flushed through your body, leaving you practically immobile as harry rolled himself off of you. you both lay there, completely content with yourselves as you gather all air that you can, your sweaty bodies practically melting into the sheets below you.

after a couple of minutes of unspoken silence, harry slowly rolled himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, scratching at his head and neck before getting up to put on a fresh pair of briefs and sweats. you couldn’t help but bask in the sight before you. you turned to lay on your side, your eyes following the muscles of his hamstrings as he walked to the dresser, admiring his cute behind that you could just squeeze.

when he stepped into his clothing, you all but drooled at the sight of his back muscles straining against his skin as he hiked his sweats up his thighs. with a quick glance over his shoulder, he figured you were staring and couldn’t help but smirk at you with his hooded eyes as he turned back to face you, arms crossing over his chest.

“i know that look, aren’t you tired?” he shakes his head.

“never g’na get tired of you,” you answered, taking a quick glance down his front and to his groin. “and it seems neither is that one.”

harry looked down to his crotch, rolling his lips into his mouth as he shuts his eyes in dismay before averting his attention back to you, “I’m gonna make breakfast, what do you want? Eggs? Pancakes?”

“C’mere, let me help you out,” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out. He blinked at you once, then twice, then avoided your lustful stare as he turned on his heel to head to the kitchen.

You whined as he stepped out the door, flinging the covers off your body and quickly stepping into a new pair of panties and one of his shirts before following him out the door. You wanted to seduce him, maybe even have sex in your kitchen, but when your stomach grumbled, you figured it was time for a well-deserved break.

But, that didn’t stop you in your endeavors. You sat on the island stool, watching Harry go about his way, cracking eggs onto the frying pan, and inserting a couple pieces of bread into the toaster.

“Can you stop staring at my butt?”

You snapped out of your daze, which happened to be on his butt, your eyes traveling up the length of his torso before finally resting on his eyes. You shook your head with a small smile, “I wanna squish it.”

“You’re not gonna squish it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll end up pinching me and I’d rather you not,” he spoke matter-of-factly, because it was exactly what you were gonna do. He knew your game plan, but that didn’t make you want to squish it any less.

You scrunched your eyebrows in sadness, exasperatedly throwing your elbows on the counter, your chin meet the palm of your hands as you continued to stare at him with depression dancing across your eyes. Again, he blinked once, then he blinked twice, and then turned back around to finish making your scrambled eggs.

Then, you tried one last resort to get what you want, “Fine, then no more sex.”

Slowly, Harry turned to look at you over his shoulder, looking at you with a bored yet confused gaze. “I believe that’s quite an extreme for not getting to squish my butt.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, getting up from your seat and picking the now freshly warmed toast out of the toaster. “I’m petty, what can I say.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, babe. You won’t last an hour,” he laughed, turning off the stove and placing the eggs down on the counter where you were just sitting.

“I’ll last longer than you, watch me,” you smiled cunningly, sitting back down on your stool and biting down into your food. Harry looked at you, a challenging glimmer sent your way before he smirked and shrugged, biting into his own toast.

Truth be told, when that hour passed you were aching for him on the inside as you sat and watched an episode of your current Netflix fixation. His hand sat gently on your knee that was draped across his lap, him rubbing small circles into your skin. And it was difficult to not straddle him and fuck him into the cushions of your couch, but you held strong.

All of your sexual encounters over the past sixteen hours were because you were horny, but not anymore. Now, it’ll be him just begging you to have your way with him. He’s gonna lose and you’re absolutely sure of it. Especially since you just so happened to need to adjust your position on the couch, your foot accidentally grazing over his cock in his pants, and you could hear him inhale just the faintest sharp breath as you nestled back into his side.

It was going to be a walk in the park for you.

That day went on, fruitless teasing being thrown around all day and night. When you both wormed back into bed, you cuddled how you normally do, your back to his front, and of course you had to adjust your position again, your bottom rubbing against his crotch in a very blatant manner, but Harry held your hips down, hissing in your ear, “Enough of that. Keep going and y’won’t walk for days.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were met with an empty back, your butt no longer pressed against him. You were confused for only a moment before you lazily looked over your shoulder and was met with such a beautiful sight.

Harry’s sweats and briefs were pushed down to his mid thighs, his very hard erection standing proudly as his fist worked up and down in quick motions, his wrist twisting everytime he neared the tip, his thumb grazing over his leaking slit before moving back down to his base. Soft moans were leaving his lips as his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure that seemed like agony. His other hand was combing through his messy hair, tugging lightly on his roots as he worked relentlessly to get his release.

You held back your laughter, and your drool, as you sat up to stare at his form. At the movement of the mattress, Harry’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting yours, desperation evident.

“Good morn–”

“Baby, you gotta help me out,” he whimpered, his eyes flicking to his cock before returning back to you.

“I think your hand is doing a fine job,” you snickered at your pun, absolutely reveling in how pathetic he was being. You knew he was bound to lose, but you just wanted to hear him beg for it.

He groaned at your denial, stopping his movements – no matter how badly he needed to keep going – and reaching for your small hand. You distanced yourself just enough to where he couldn’t reach you from his laying position, smirking at him as he all but cried at his current situation.

“Are you sure you want to lose, and so pathetically?” You chided in a teasing manner, your nails scraping up the length of his leg, stopping just where the waist of his pants rest on his thigh.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore. . . but please, please do something,” he whined, his right hand going back to slowly stroking his throbbing member.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you swatted at his hand, replacing it with your own, and slowly building up a rhythm to ease some of his discomfort.

You were so happy he lost and so quickly, because you’re absolutely itching to get a taste of him. You’ve been wanting him in your mouth since yesterday morning and now you were going to make the absolute most of it, because it’s his fault that you couldn’t sooner.

Leaning over his cock, you placed a wet kiss to his bright red tip, earning a groan of relief from Harry, before sinking your mouth down on him. You moaned at the feeling of him in your mouth, the vibrations of your throat shooting through him, causing him to whimper and thrust his hips up into your mouth. You gagged at the sudden impact, retracting yourself slightly before sending Harry a glare and holding his hips down with your hands.

He mumbled a quick apology, doing his best to keep his hips at bay. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft, your mouth picking up speed as you sucked harder every time you came back up to his tip. Every time you pushed back down you inched him just a little deeper down your throat. It was a rarity that you could shove him down completely, but Harry always appreciated the effort made. And right now, you really wanted him at the back of your throat.

You breathed as best you could through your nose, relaxing your jaw as much as you can, and counted down in your mind, before moving further down until your nose grazed his trimmed hair. A loud moan rippled through the air as Harry felt himself hit the warm muscle of your throat, stars beginning to stir in his vision.

“Shit, pet. . . shit, just like that.” It took everything in him to not grab the back of your head and fuck your face, continually hitting deep inside your mouth, but he did lightly thrust up despite your previous wishes, knowing he was just moments away from finishing.

Harry knew from the moment he woke up that he wasn’t gonna make it very far in this little bet. With your ass pressed firmly against his very, very hard dick, he knew he was a goner. And when he couldn’t make himself cum from his own hand, he knew there wasn’t anything else he could do but succumb to you and devices.

Not, that it was a bad thing though as you kitten licked his tip, sucking him dry as he released into your mouth. You swallowed every last drop of what he had to offer without a care in the world, and he knew not only was he a goner for the bet, but he was a goner for you.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy before he reached down and pulled you up the length of his body to place a chaste kiss to your lips and speak a thank you as he could feel himself relax into the mattress.

And without thinking about it, he dipped his fingers into your panties, his newly softened cock almost springing back up as he felt just how wet you had become. “That turned you on, huh?” You nodded gently, head tilting slightly as you looked at him with those gorgeous doe eyes that made him weak in the knees.

“C’mon then, sit on my face. My turn to make you feel good.”

[littlekatleaf]

The shape that I'm in now

(It's 1 am, I must be posting Roadrat snz fic. This takes place in the same 'verse as 'Buried in a burning flame' and 'My heart as spent as ashes, but takes place before them. Not that it's necessary for the story, just to orient.)

Whatever here that’s left of me Is yours just as it was ~ Hozier, As It Was

Junkrat rolled over, trying to ease the ache in his hip, but it didn’t help. Sheets scratchy on oversensitive skin. Eyes hot, dryer than the fuckin’ desert, nose running like to make up for it. Flipped the pillow, but both sides were already too warm. Everything hurt, from toenails to eyelids. Even his fucking missing limbs hurt, however the hell that worked. What sucked the most, though was the silence. It pulsed against his eardrums, buzzed in his head.

Had told Roadhog to go. No choice about it. Bones’d been aching with impending fever, head felt packed with sand. Knew what was coming and didn’t want Roadhog to see. Didn’t want to be seen. Not when felt like his skin was peeled back, leaving all of his quivering insides bare. Being sick was being vulnerable. In Junkertown being vulnerable meant you was good as dead.

Felt Roadhog watching him from the first handful of sneezes. “Nobody fuckin’ cleans this shithole,” Junkrat had grumbled, trying to play it off. Roadhog said nothing.

Didn’t say a word when Junkrat blamed the spices in the stir fry for the second fit.

Unfortunately the third handful of sneezes seemed to have blown all thoughts from his brain and he was still trying to recover when Roadhog asked, “All right, Rat?”

“‘M fine. If you want to get in my pants just say so.” Might have intended it to sound flirty but it came off pissy.

Roadhog crossed his arms over his chest. “Ain’t like that. You just look…” “Ain’t neither of us winning a beauty pageant, Hog. Mind your business.” Least that time sounded like maybe he could be joking, even with the edge in his voice.

Tried to bite the sneezes back after that. Pinch them off. Smother them in his sleeve. But every single time he felt Roadhog’s eyes on him, watching. Made the hairs raise at his nape and finally he snapped, shouting at Roadhog to get the fuck out and leave him alone.

Roadie had, and he was fine with it. Just perfectly fuckin’ apples, mate. Went to bed, tried to sleep it off. But couldn’t. Now he tossed back the sheets, pushed himself up, buckled on his prosthetics. Make himself tea. Caffeine might dull the headache. Heat’d feel good on his throat.

You wanted to be by yourself... teasing whisper of her voice through the buzzing. You told him to go. You should be happy - here all alone with your disease. Could practically feel her breath at his ear and he swayed for a minute, dizzy. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near you.

“Shows what you know. Roadhog likes it when I sneeze.” Hated how defensive it sounded. Proof that he was only good for one thing.

Perhaps, but this is beyond even his depravity. Look at yourself, Jamison.

Without really meaning to, his gaze flicked over to the mirror that hung above the washbasin, then away again. Not before he’d seen himself though - scarecrow hair, singed in more places than he’d realized, skin and bones, dark circles around his eyes, nose red, lips cracked from breathing through his mouth. Expression going blank as the need to sneeze came over him. “Huh-R’iiishh! Isshew! R’iishew!” Managed to catch them in a tissue at the last minute, but it was a close thing.

Disgusting. And weak. I absolutely cannot fathom why he has not left you behind yet. Ill so often. Missing half your limbs. In need of protection. What kind of man are you?

“Shut it,” he said. Much as hated to admit it, she was right. Knew full well all the ways he was lacking. Rubbed his dripping nose on a handful of tissues.

Perhaps he just enjoys toying with you. Drawing things out before he takes your treasure and returns to the Queen. Her tone is a purr. A predator does love to tease its prey.

“Roadhog ain’t the Queen’s. Not anymore.”

No? He told you that, did he?

“Yes.” Sort of. What had Roadhog said when they met? Freelance? What did that mean? He wouldn’t… would he? If he got pissed off enough? If Junkrat was enough of a pain in the ass? A sudden chill whipped through him and he shivered. Grabbed a windcheater off the hook on the back of the door and yanked it over his head. Roadie’s, he realized as the soft cotton engulfed him. At least he was warm. Tugged the hood up over his head. Maybe that would block out her voice.

Pathetic… The whisper echoed in his ears, then faded - taking his energy with it. Giving up on the tea plan he curled up in a corner of the couch. Pulled in his knees, tugged the windcheater down over him and tried to disappear. Just needed to get smaller. Smaller.

A sneeze jag shook him awake. Took him a second to catch his breath and open his eyes. There was Roadie, holding out a tissue. Didn’t want to take it, but the alternative was worse. And messier. “Thanks,” he said, stuffiness blurring the consonants. Blowing his nose helped, but only a little.

Roadhog didn’t say anything, just turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Kettle rattled, water hit the basin. Click snap of the flame catching on the stove. Clink of spoon against mug.

Apologize, Jamison. Unless you want to test his patience even further.

Don’t need your input, he said, but only in his head. Always weirded Roadhog out when he answered aloud. Cleared his throat, attempted to pitch his voice loud enough to carry, even though felt like he’d been swallowing sandpaper in his sleep. “Oi, Roadie?”

Nothing. Sighing to himself, Junkrat untangled his limbs, ignoring the shivering. Maybe Roadhog wouldn’t notice. Managed to reach the kitchen this time. Roadhog’s back was turned, head slightly bent over whatever he was doing.

Rat hesitated in the doorway. While his mouth usually moved faster than his brain, at the moment neither seemed to be online. He leaned against the jamb, waiting for inspiration to strike. Instead he sneezed, catching them in his sleeve, then coughing after. “Ugh, fuck. I’ll wash this I swear.”

“...” The skepticism was clear even without words.

“Ain’t gonna forget this time.”

“...”

Junkrat coughed a laugh. “Yeah, you’re right I probably will.” Rubbed the back of his neck where it ached. “Roadie, I’m…” sorry he was going to say but Roadhog turned, offering a steaming mug.

“I know. Drink.”

Couldn’t smell anything through his clogged nose so he sipped warily. Then sighed, relief and gratitude. “Where the hell’d you find Lemsip?”

“Bobby had some.”

“An’ he just gave it to you?” Meds were hard to come by, even stupid shit like cold medicine.

Roadhog shrugged. “He owed me somewhat.”

The steam made his nose run and tickle and he sniffled a little. Which only served to trigger another round of sneezes and he slopped hot liquid over his hand. “Ow, god fucking dammit.”

“Here, let me…” Roadhog reached for his hand, but he stepped back.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Rat. I said let me.”

The darkness of his tone sent a shiver down Rat’s spine. The command in it was as unmistakable as the warmth. Junkrat stopped, pinned, barely breathing. Roadhog wiped his hand, carefully, like the burn could have been serious. Then he laid a palm over Rat’s forehead, fingers pleasantly cool. Junkrat leaned into the touch.

“Really got a fever, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, exactly but Junkrat nodded anyway. “Feelin’ shit, to be honest.” A hot flush chased the chills. Had to tell Roadie the truth, but didn’t make it any easier.

“You hurting?”

Rat shrugged, nodded again.

“Come on,” Roadhog put an arm around him, led him back into the bedroom. “Lie down.”

“Ain’t tired,” he tried. Not quite enough energy to be a proper brat.

“Not planning on sleep. Lie down.”

Junkrat did as he was told, but closed his eyes as the bed dipped and Roadhog sat down beside him. With gentle fingers he disconnected Junkrat’s prosthetics and set them aside. Even though he’d only been wearing them a short time, they’d already rubbed sore spots on his skin. Roadhog knew to avoid those places as he began to massage the muscles in Rat’s forearm, kneading until the knots loosened, then moved on to Rat’s thigh.

As the tension drained away, Rat sighed so deep was almost a groan. “God, that’s good.” Roadhog let go of him, but didn’t move away. There was the soft sound of a jar being opened and a teasing scent of menthol that Rat could smell even through the congestion. Vicks, of course. “For the cough,” he asked, smirking.

“It’ll help,” Roadhog said, but this time Rat knew it was a question. Making sure he was okay with it.

“It will,” Rat agreed. Put him back on easier footing. Hog gave him a little care, he’d get Hog off. Fair and square.

Roadie slid his hands up under the windcheater and goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch. Junkrat’s back arched, “Oh,” he breathed. “It’s so… Itchew! Huh-Itchh! Itchhuh!” Luckily he’d pulled the sleeves over his hand because he covered just with his hand before realizing.

“Bless you,” Roadhog said, without pausing from the massage.

“Th...thank y-Ihchuuh! Ah’tchh! Chh!” The sensations together were almost overwhelming. Felt like he was tingling along every nerve, shivering with both chills and desire, surprised to find himself going hard, even as he kept sneezing.

“You blushing, or is that the fever?” Roadhog’s voice a rumble in his ear and even that made a shudder run through him.

“Both,” he sighed. Nothing he could do about it, body betraying him with every sneeze.

Roadie chuckles. “You do that so well.”

“Wh… Huhitch!... Itch! Ishhew! … what?"

“Lose control.” An answer but also a command as he tugged Rat’s boxers down and slid inside, surprisingly gently.

“Oh…” Words gone. Thoughts gone. Only feeling left. Heat, fever, want, like fire in his blood. Waves of trembling over him. Hog deep inside, moving with a gentle but implacable rhythm, driving him higher, stoking the flames. He clenched his mech hand in the sheets, clung to Hog with his flesh hand, fingers tightening convulsively. And as the flames built so, too, did the need to sneeze. Little panting breath, interrupted by sniffles and teasing hitches.

“Lose it, Rat,” Roadhog said.

“Ah’Rrrishhah! Ushhew! Isshah!” The flames engulfed him, he shook with release. For a long, long moment he could only blink blearily at the ceiling, utterly spent. “Holy shit,” he managed, finally.

At some point Roadie’d gotten a cool washcloth and he wiped it carefully over Rat, washing away sweat and the vaporub. Just when the cold was about to set him shivering, Roadhog pulled a blanket over him, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You did good, Rat.”

A burst of warmth flowered in his chest and tears sprang up. Rat blinked them back, scrubbed his face with his hand. “‘M a fucking mess,” he said.

“...”

“I mean, sure we have fun. But look at me.” Waved a hand over himself. “Missing a piece or two. Fuckin’ sick all the time. Maybe we should just… go our own ways.”

“...”

“Got enough of a haul to make up for the fight in the bar. Enough to make this bodyguard gig thing worthwhile. We should maybe quit while we’re ahead.” Before you get tired of me, he didn’t say, but it was there on his tongue.

“Rat.” Clink of buckles as Roadhog took off his mask.

Junkrat resisted the urge to look at him. Didn’t want to read the truth of his feelings in his eyes.

“Look at me.”

He does, for a second, then away again.

“You see the scars. All of them. You think they make me ugly?”

“No!” Surprise had him actually meeting Roadhog’s gaze. Caught, he couldn't look away. “Just part of who ya are.” He reached up and traced one from the corner of Roadie’s eye, curving down and along his jaw. No, the scars had surprised him at first, but never bothered him.

“Need the hogdrogen. The mask. So I’m weak?”

“Course not.” First person to mistake Hog for weak wouldn’t live to regret it.

“This place tried to kill us. In so many ways. But it fucking hasn’t. Don’t let it win, Jamie. Don’t let it.”

Junkrat swallowed hard. Nobody called him that, not for years and years. “I won’t,” he said.

Roadhog lay next to him and Junkrat curled into him. Roadhog pulled him closer, carded his fingers through Rat’s hair. “Sleep, Jamie.”

I’m yours, he thought as he drifted away. Whatever’s left of me.

[blazogirlsoneshots]

Space Girl (Monica Rambeau x Reader)

Italics-Music, also listen to Space Girl by Francis Forever 

Monica unfolded and refolded the already warndown paper in her hands as she prepared to open the door to her apartment. From her position outside the door she could hear the clinks of dishes and the muffled music. Taking one more deep breath, Monica turned the key and stepped through the door.

“Hey, babe, how was work?” Y/N called from their position at the stove. “I tried calling you earlier for your opinion on dinner but you didn’t answer. So, I decided to just go with stir fry.”

“That’s fine,” Monica placed the paper on the counter and went over to Y/N. She wrapped her arms around their waist and kissed their check. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old, although I did see the cutest cat on my way home.”

“Did you?”

“Yes and I think you should reconsider my idea about getting one. Just think about it, we would be the greatest cat parents in the entire history of the world.” Monica laughed as went and sat on the counter across from Y/N. 

“Even so, both of us are so busy that the poor thing would be lonely being at home by itself all day.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Y/N pouted.

“But you love me anyway.” Y/N turned around and beamed up at Monica.

“Yeah, I do.” The two basked in the comfort of the moment as the troubles from the day seemed to melt away. 

Space girl, show me the stars

You know the galaxies of my heart

Y/N let out a squeal as they grabbed Monica’s hand and pulled her off the counter. 

“What are you doing?” Monica asked while trying to fight off the smile growing on her face.

“Dancing with you, of course.” Y/N intertwined their fingers with Monica’s and began to swing their arms around. 

Girl, are you a Cancer?

‘Cause you make me cry

When we kiss or dance in the sky

We’re dancing in the sky

Laughter filled the room as the pair danced. Monica’s earlier anxieties were almost completely forgotten. There was just something about the time spent with Y/N that made all of her worries melt away.

Space Girl, I saw a lunar eclipse

Looked like how I feel 'bout your hips

Space Girl, the only way that we'd end

Was if you were sucked into a black hole

But I'd still spend my days dreaming 'bout you

“Monica, what’s this?” Monica felt her heart stop as Y/N picked up the piece of paper.

“I was going to talk to you about it after dinner-”

“Mission orders?” Y/N looked up with an unreadable expression on their face. “It says that you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I-,” Monica started but stopped and stared at her hands, “I know it’s really soon and I’ve given you absolutely no warning, but I finally get to fly.”

“You’re going to space?” The anger vanished from Y/N's voice as a smile spread across their face.

“I’m going to space,” Monica conformed. Y/N threw their arms around Monica and buried their face in her chest.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to seem like I’m abandoning you.”

“You’re not, though. Besides, you always come back to me. You’re my space girl.”

“Space girl?”

“Well, you are going to space in the morning. It’s the perfect fit.”

A/N: Does this feel a little rushed and what not? Yes, but I think that Space Girl is Monica’s theme song so I had to do it.

masterlist

[dapandapod]

I went out for a walk and was struck with inspiration. This is kinda sad and probably a lil weird to do for someone else but Hey, let me. I want kindness. Tw for breakdown and implied cheating. On Ao3 here 💖

It’s late. Too late to be out for a walk depending on who you are asking. And I’m asking me, so no, midnight is not that late.

I walk alone among the streets and houses. As I walk past the roundabout four motorbikes blast past. On the next street over I get company. I smell them before I see them. Perfume and cigarettes. So strong I can actually feel the taste on my mouth. I look up and see young man in front of me. He seems to be a little drunk, but he walk with a steady pace ahead.

I’m three lamp posts away but I can still smell him. Hell, I can even taste him. I slow my pace, not wanting to get too close. The sound of our footsteps mingle in the silence, bouncing between the brick walls.

Suddenly the man in front of me stops. Leans against the wall. He seems to be getting smaller, curling in on himself. Is he trying to light another cigarette? Is he going to get sick?

I keep walking towards him, my house is only a block away. The perfume smell gets stronger for every step I take. It’s a nice smell but so strong it makes my eyes sting a little.

Im prepared to walk past him when I hear it. A sob. A heart wrenching, deeply felt sob.

I stop dead in my tracks and we the mans shoulders shake in restraint. His hair is a soft brown, bangs falling into his eyes. He has one arm clasped around himself, the other presses tightly against his mouth. I’m only a few paces away, and must look like an absolute weirdo.

I take a tentative step towards him, reaching out with my hand towards his shoulder.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

The man startles badly and press himself against the brick wall. Cornflower blue eyes stare up at me, tears and a little snot streaming down his face.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” I say, I know I don’t come off as the most approachable or friendly dude. I’m big, tall and my long white hair make people look at me like I’m some kind of mobster. “Are you alright?” I ask him again, because he looks a strong wind away from collapsing.

He looks at me for a moment longer, then his face crumples. He shoots forward from the wall and suddenly his arms are around me. He is taller than I thought, his head fitting nicely against the crook of my neck. He press his entire body against mine, his cheek is wet and his nose cold agains my neck.

This is not what I expected. Slowly I put my arms around him, and it’s like I break something when I do. He presses his forehead against my shoulder thankfully, but a wail of despair tears from his throat. I can tell he is crying because my shirt is getting damp where he press his head against me. His fingers claws and grips my shirt, drawing it against himself, pressing us closer.

I don’t know what to do. This stranger, this broken man in my arms in the middle of the night. How can I just tear free and leave?

I won’t do that. I know what it’s like to feel that terrible, only I didn’t have somebody there to catch me.

I let my head rest against his, the stench of cigarettes almost overwhelming when I’m this close. Slowly, softly, I let my hands rub circles on his back. He is leaning heavily on me so I twist us a little so the brick wall will support us.

Us.

I suppose it is now. There is a comfort in ‘us’ somehow.

I hum, not really talking nor singing, just letting my voice vibrate through me. My ex Yen once told me it was like leaning agains a giant purring cat when I did that. She took comfort in it, so maybe he can too?

I don’t know how long we stand there. His arms are still tight around my ribs, his breath is still fast and uneven, but he doesn’t seem to cry anymore.

I let my hand cradle the back of his neck. I don’t know why, it’s uncalled for and frankly a little creepy to do to a stranger. But I do it anyway, some strange instinct telling me this is what I must do.

“You will be ok,” I tell him. “One deep breath. Another, there you can do it.”

Being alone sucks. I hope this helps.

After another long ten minutes it seems like he is done. His grip has slackened a little, the breaths evened out. There is a slight tremble in his shoulders.

“Feel any better?” I ask him, trying to make him look up at me.

He doesn’t but I can make out a mumbled “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” I say, still rubbing circles into his back. “Do you live far from here?”

There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs and pulls away. It’s cold without him against me.

“Not anymore.” He smiles sadly and puts his hands in his pockets. He looks so miserable and broken. “I uh... I found him with someone else in our bed. I didn’t think, I just left.”

Fuck. Fuck.

I can’t.

“You can crash at my place tonight if you want to.” I offer this complete stranger. I don’t even know his name. He also haven’t met my eyes since he broke down.

“Sorry, shit, that sounds totally suspicious huh? But I’ve been there so... I know how it feels not to have anywhere to go. I’m Geralt.”

Finally he looks up at me. He is absolutely drunk and he should not be out here.

“Jaskier.” He says, a slow smile finding his lips. “And thank you. I uh... I guess it’s that or sleeping on the street tonight.”

I lead him with me that last block. His perfume and cigarette smell is still overwhelming as he walks up the stairs to my flat. I give him a T-shirt and send him into the shower while I carry pillows and blankets to the couch.

He looks a little better when he exits the bathroom. He absolutely smells better now. We don’t speak, just make sure he has what he needs for the night before I settle into my own bedroom. This was one weird night.

The morning turns out to be even weirder. When I open my eyes and return to awareness I do so to the smell of pancakes. I pad barefoot across the floor into the kitchen just to see my stray stand there in my slightly too big T-shirts, trying and failing to flip a pancake in the air. He looks a little better.

I lean in the doorway for a moment just watching him in the sunlight. When he notice me he startles just as badly as the last time and almost drops the frying pan.

“Shit! Fuck!” He struggles to catch it, but the pancake is destroyed. He frowns at it and puts it on a plate next to the stove with three other failed attempts.

“Morning.” I say, amused. He is so at ease in my space. It’s weird. I scratch my bare chest and cracks a yawn. “Are any of those gonna be salvageable?” I catch him staring at me with a slight blush on his cheeks. It’s a good look on him.

“I uh... fuck, sorry, I was just thinking I could make breakfast as... thanks...”

“It’s all good.” I say again, another yawn breaking free. “Jaskier was is?”

“Yeah.” He puts a new load of batter in the pan and it sizzles promisingly.

We share breakfast. Some of the pancakes were good enough to eat. Jaskier seems like he is starving but I know crying is a hungry business. We talk a little, my cheap coffee working as a icebreaker.

After almost an hour Jaskier declares he must go back. Not home, just back.

“Do you have any friends you can stay with?” I ask him when he puts on his shoes, knowing that he probably doesn’t. Why else would he end up here, with me?

I feel a pang of something, sympathy.

“It will be alright.” He says with a smile. “Thank you for everything. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” My arms are crossed in front of me, all I wanna do is just scoop him up in another hug. To make things alright again, to make that awful sad go away.

“See you around, Geralt.” He says, another smile and a little wave as he disappears down the stairs.

I hope we will, I think silently to myself

[ikevamp-annalyne]

Apple bite [Leonardo Da Vinci x MC] [NSFW]

Hello there!!! ლ(⌒▽⌒ლ) I posted this one-shot on my Ao3 and thought I could post it there as well. It is long, I am sorry about this! And also nsfw. The theme I went with is lingerie and it is from Leonardo's pov. I hope you will like it ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ

✿.｡.:* ☆:**:..:**:.☆*.:｡.✿.｡.:* ☆:**:..:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

The scent of apples drizzled in homemade caramel took over the whole corridor, spreading like some sweet wings calling the very core of my stomach. Only one person could make something so tasty, so flavoured and enticing: I was making my way towards this very person, also known as the prettiest woman on Earth.

My dear Cara Mia.

Ah, spotted. As I thought, she was in the kitchen preparing a midnight snack. And since it dealt with apples, I knew it was for me. Due to some circumstances -I might or might not have been in the library reading about astronomy stuff and eventually fallen asleep amidst the books…- I did not have any dinner. Knowing this, I could have bet Cara Mia was preparing something for me to eat.

I snickered inside the kitchen and approached her with the slow pacing of cats, the discreet and charming flutters of my cloak covered by the ticking of the clock and the soft whisper of the oven. But to no avail: as soon as my hands wrapped around her plumpy waist, a smile crawled its way on her beautiful features, eclipsing the light of the world and attracting me towards her like gravity.

"You know your smell of cigarillo always gives you away, Leo?"

I smirked as my lips found the path to her uncovered neck; the peachy-like skin was inviting me wordlessly to cover it under countless feather-like kisses. In all innocence, of course.

"Oops. Found before I could even make you jump out of surprise."

She turned around a bit -finally letting me get a good look at her face that I missed so much- and hit me with the spoon she had in hand. Hah, such a tease. I was a bit too much of a good teacher...

"Ouch, Cara Mia. It hurts." I said playfully while licking her ear, nibbling on her lobe, sucking a moan out of her pink and seducing open lips.

"As if I were to believe you, Siñor I-like-to-sleep-in-the-library-and-forget-to-eat." She counterattacked with a flick on my forehead, her voice only displaying the purest affection ever felt.

The years we had already spent together reflected oh-so-well in our incessant and unending banter: teasing each other had become our habit, our own little display of love -alongside the night-long chats we had discussing on a wide range of topics and the amazing love sessions we would have together. We might not be together every single second of the day, but the deep love we had was enough to fulfill us while we were away. However, when we were finally reuniting, no more separated by work or personal time, we had this urgent and dire need to feel each other, even with the simplest of touch. Romantic or platonic, innocent or sexual, you would always find our bodies glued to each other, tied by the fingers, the hands, the arms -the lips whenever we were out of sight.

This was what was happening at this moment: after being away from her a whole afternoon, my hands were animated by their own lives and were just covering her sensitive skin with caresses and warmth. Her voice was softly echoing through the empty -except for us two- room. She dropped the spoon on the counter to properly face me, turning on her feet to close the small gap our bodies were suffering from. The smile on her defined mouth was breathtaking. She always had this silly fear of me getting tired of her, when she was effortlessly pulling me to her every second. Every smile she shot me, every look she sent me, every breath she took would tug on my heartstrings and make me unable to avert my gaze from her essence.

"I love you so much I wonder if you are a witch who put a spell on me." I laughed while kissing the tip of her nose, earning a cute laugh from her, my heart skipping a beat in the meantime.

"Well, if it helps keeping you by my side…"

Her thin yet firm arms found their way to my neck, hanging on it and charmingly attracting me downwards, my face barely inches from hers. She smiled this killing smirk she would show me sometimes, and it was enough to scatter my resolution to wait for our bedroom to make her mine once again, to melt in her embrace and abandon myself to her undying love. A love I would give up everything for.

Maybe my own beliefs…?

I put aside these thoughts and threw the last pieces of resolve in me to unbutton her shirt and slide my hands on her bare skin, only the corset preventing me from going further. I was ready to tear it apart when I realised I had never seen  it before.

This beautiful black colour, as deep as the night hiding our most sacred secrets, was outstanding on her pale skin tone. The contrast was like a work of art, a striking black and white painting drowned in sfumato and chiaroscuro. My painter fingers had this urge to draw all the curves of her body, to slide my fingertips on her silhouette and engrave it forever in my mind and my body. The corset showed her full breast, such a feast for the eye, a feast I had seen hundreds of times but I still could not get enough of it. The boning right under her chest made it look even more prominent: it looked like mouthwatering peaches, their soft skin appealing my lips to shower them with kiss marks. The corset shape flattered her waist, the end of it reaching just above her hips; these hips I could die for as they were so full, attractive, seducing. The front was tied by a black sleek ribbon, one that I could feel sliding through the eyelets and my fingers as I untied it in my mind.

I was mentally undressing her and I had no regrets nor guilty feelings.

A smirk played on my lips as I looked at her panties; these pants that she shortened to make it look like some sort of shorts. Something she had picked up from her time; I can still remember these strange underwear she still had from her modern time. She had to get used to the ones from here: long pants with lace reaching above the knees with a slit. She had told me underwear in her time were shorter; “so that we can slide them off easily when we go to the toilets!” she explained when she put the underwear away in front of me. I was not the least surprised when she asked a sewer in Paris to have the panties shortened and reaching the middle of her thighs.

Not that I minded, of course. The more skin I could see, the happier I was.

I licked my lips absentmindedly while sliding my fingers on her skin, playing with the lace and ribbons and pulling the elastic before slapping it on her bare skin; red coloured her shiny skin and called me to drown her in my own colours. I came closer, brought my lips to her neck and kissed, sucked, licked all the flesh under my mouth. My lips were drawing circles and spirals on her, her body becoming a canvas I was ready to stain. I nibbled on her neck and her voice rang in the empty kitchen, echoing against the frying pans and saucepans. Her reflection could be seen on the kitchen utensils, her mouth agape and her breath blurring the silverware with vapour.

I caressed her cheek, drew the contour of her jawline and ravish her lips while throwing her clothes all over the kitchen: her shirt on the stove, her skirt on the table, her socks on the counter and her shoes on the floor. Anyone could come by but honestly, I could not care less… But then I saw her orgasmic face -teary eyes and blushing cheeks- and I slammed the door. And locked it.

No one will ever see this marvelously splendid sex expression aside from me.

“Leo-nardo…”

Oh God, here was the sexiest groan ever: it was the only time her voice would get so low and husky, filled with excitement and desire, full of expectations and ready for our love-making. I hurried to her side, put my hands under her bottoms and brought her close to me. Her legs found their way around my waist, my lips grew daring and kissed her so much her own turned red and swollen. I sat her on the counter, clearing out the surface and throwing the tea towels and utensils all over the place. She moaned under me, her whispering groans ringing in my ears like Heaven trumpets of joy. I let my lips taste her breast; my hands were already undressing her from her -now useless- panties. The fabric slid through my fingers and felt like a caress on my hot skin. I smirked when I got rid of it and had the most exciting painting in front of me.

My beautiful Cara Mia, naked with flushed and pink cheeks, teary eyes and mouth breathing hot, only a beautiful dark corset covering her last pieces of skin.

“A sight to see…” I heard myself groaning. “You are beautiful, Cara Mia.”

I pulled her closer to me: I kissed her breast, my tongue left trails of saliva on her bare skin before following the line of her corset. I came down, down, down, until my lips caught the end of the ribbon tying the fabric together. I raised my eyes, staring at her glittering orbs and smiling as I bit the ribbon and pulled it out with my teeth. She let the sweetest moans escape her lips as the corset opened and finally revealed the best artwork: her breast. Full, round, prominent, with nipples as reddish pink as tasty cherries. I knew I had the most wicked grin ever; I even allowed myself to giggle as I kissed her lower abdomen and I felt her shivering under me. My tongue alternated with my lips to mark her skin with love, from her navel to her stomach and then her beautiful breast.

I tasted her chest, wrapping my lips around her nipple while playing with the other with my fingers. I caressed, pinched gently, kissed and sucked, I even lapped a bit when my hands stroked her sides, her waist and eventually her hips and bottoms. She sighed ecstatic breaths: her body was deliciously crossed by shivers of upcoming pleasure. I giggled and let the naughty beast come out; I grabbed her bottocks, kneading them like tasty buns of fresh bread, and my tongue ran all over her upper body. The breast, the stomach, he navel, the lower abdomen… Each line of saliva left by it got moans out of her, stronger at every passage. My lips then reached her sex. I looked straight in her feverish eyes as I licked the sensitive skin and kissed her lower lips. The groans I earned from her tickled my inner thighs. Just her voice made me excited and craving for her even more. I smiled through my kissing session: I played with her most sensitive part, slightly sucking on it and taking great delight in her orgasmic moans. My fingers joined the dance, tucking them into her wetness the most gently I could. I was always afraid of hurting her in the process: I knew how us, men, could be rough when horny.

And bringing pain to her was the least thing I wanted to do.

I would rather die or end up in an eternal void.

My lips kissed every part I could, my tongue ran all over the place and I removed my fingers from inside to caress her inner thighs. I came closer, replaced the emptiness left by my fingers by my tongue, penetrating her very core with my taste-testing muscle. The sounds she made were the sweetest melody, strengthening at every movement I made and making my own core twitch with burning desire. A hand abandoned her thigh and unbuckled my belt. But then I remember she liked it a bit too much when I was completely naked, slave to her hands and captive to her desire. I threw my boots away, got rid of any piece of clothes I had on me before undressing from my trousers.

My tongue was still busy pleasuring my Cara Mia when I heard the very distinct sound of her soon-to-come relief. Oh non, you were not getting it until I felt you around my most intimate part. I pulled off and got up. Her flushing face looked at me in daze as I came in for a passionate, feverish and delightful kiss.

“Wait for me, Cara Mia… Can I come in?”

She shot this incredibly soft and kind smile as she opened her arms to me. She embraced me, bringing me closer to her, our skins rubbing against each other in sensual waves, brushing my hair aside and losing her hands in the messy locks, and sweetly whispering in my ear:

“Please, Leonardo, make me yours…”

I ravished her another kiss; we were losing our souls in this deep exchange and we shared the most intimate groans. I was always so ecstatic to share all these muffled screams with her; it felt like our pleasure was mingling together and becoming one in our own little world, the place only the both of us knew and will ever know. I softly sucked on her lips, licked the corners of her mouth and grabbed her hips, bringing them closer to my own and earning a sweet cry of pleasure from her -I could also hear my own voice growling at the contact. I gently entered her, doing my best to control my desire and not go wild with my thrusts. Every time we made love, I was doing my best to be the gentler possible: I wanted her to feel the sweetest pleasure possible. I wanted to be the only one to make her this excited. I wanted her to remember every part of my body, my skin, my flesh, and print my marks on each of her orgasms. I wanted to be the only one for her, the only lover she will ever crave for.

When did I become so deeply attached to her…? I could no longer see myself without her by my side…

A sweet moan of pleasure cut me into my train of thoughts. My eyes drifted towards her and what I saw made my heart race: teary eyes full of pleasure and desire, red cheeks stained with sweat from her and I, open mouth and swollen red lips… I dived in for another kiss and groaned at every movement we made: my needy thrusts, her spasms of pleasure, our joined moans.The heat was getting us and I felt dizzy as I entered her intimate sanctuary faster and stronger. The pleasure was making our breathing erratic. We were both on the verge, but I could not help myself : I came in for another kiss, my hand caressed her inner thighs, I let my fingers tickle her intimacy and rub on her pleasure organ, I nibbled on her ear and licked her jawline.

I did not think it would earn me nails planting on my back and scratching my bare skin. Ah, why this simple contact made me almost come…? I giggled and pecked her sweet lips, seeing a frown form on her pretty face:

“Leo-aaah, why are you, haaaah, giggling like this- mmhh!”

I took her hand into mine and intertwined our fingers while withdrawing from her warm privacy and slowly entering her, letting her body feel every inch of my manliness. Her moan was loud, her body shivered and I felt all her muscles twitching against me. I growled and squeezed her hands tighter as I came in her, filling her with my most intimate fluid. I gently removed myself from her and wiped her with a nearby towel -we would take it with us to not leave any hint, so…-. She blushed at the attention: I knew she was soft to these small gestures I would spoil her with. I laughed at her shyness and kissed her on the cheek.

“Leo…” her voice rang in the air when I held her princess-like and covered her skin in soft kisses.

“Hm? What’s going on, Cara Mia?” I knew I sounded worried; her eyes were avoiding me.

“Do, did you like the lingerie I was wearing today? I bought it for you, so…”

I smiled so much my jaws were painful. I hugged her tight, our past love-making still lingering on our skins. I kissed her softly, deeply, a candy-like kiss with the sugar running into our veins. I gently sucked on her neck and imperceptibly ran my fangs on her skin.

“I did.” I whisper into her ear before diving my eyes into hers and smiling the most tenderly possible while kissing her cheek. “You could wear a sack that I would not care less. I love you, no matter what. But I guess I really liked how this lingerie set looked on you…”

I giggled at her red face and pecked her nose.

“And I realised something, today.” I murmured before letting her down, picking her clothes up to dress her. I slid my hands on her stomach and then cupped her face into my large hands; her bright eyes were focused on me. “You mean so much to me, I cannot picture myself without you anymore. So, I need to be honest there…”

I saw her eyes twitching and her face twisting into a deep expression of worry. Ah, Cara Mia… Always imagining the worst before I could even say anything. I ran my thumb on her jawline and came in for an Eskimo kiss, rubbing my nose against hers.

“I just want to tell you that, following how you want me to be a bit more selfish when it comes to loving you…” I had troubles saying all this; I had to take several breaks between my words. “I, I am thinking about asking you to, maybe…” Was it so hard to say, Leonardo? Yes, definitely, since it was so against my everlasting wish to preserve human lives. “I mean, I could bring myself to, make your life last longer…”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened agape and I could see tears gathering around her wattle. She threw her arms around me and hugged me so tight she nearly made us fall -making me growl in pain at the same time since she was nearly strangling me...

“Are you, are you serious, Leonardo!?” she asked while turning my face left to right with her hands, kind of like she was unable to believe what I was saying. “I mean, sure we love each other but, you have never ever thought of, this-! Even when I begged of you...”

I laughed out loud and removed her hands from my jaws; I kissed all her fingers softly and then her lips in a soft peck.

“I know, but, I really cannot see myself without you now, and I know I, will not lose you or make you sad living all these years as a nearly-immortal. I mean, you abandoned your life in the modern day to be with me, so…” I giggled a bit. “I still cannot bring myself to do it now, but…” I ran my nails on her still-sensitive skin and earned sweet shivers from her. “I am willing to do it. Just give me some days… Huh, weeks, and I will be, happy to, you know…”

My beautiful Cara Mia hugged me even tighter and I bumped into the table behind me. She covered me in kisses; every single part of my skin had the traces of her feverish lips lingering on my flesh and I could feel my own body twitch in suddenly awoken desire.

… You cannot blame me; the woman I love is sticking her amazingly seducing curves against me.

She cupped my face in her long fingers and stared at me with her big round eyes; lighted by so many stars I could almost see the milky way dancing in her irises.

“This is the most amazing proof of your love, and I will always respect your decision, the time you need or your beliefs. Thank you for rethinking this for me, Leo. You always manage to make me the happiest in the world.”

…

Needless to say our love-making session was far from being done.

[rocket-remmy]

Taco ‘Bout It|| Morgan and Remmy

Don’t worry, Cece, they labeled the containers. 

It was a good thing Morgan came prepared. Deirdre’s brain offering, however dear it was to her in sentiment, was not preserved enough to keep Morgan’s mind from zeroing out into the vampire zone. But, she had picked up some pigs blood while on her grocery run and sipped it from her water glass as she fried the brains in one skillet and ground beef in another. Her vomit tupperware was also close at hand, but so far she’d only had a little dry heaving. The gray matter popped and sizzled like anxious hatchlings in her pan, too impatient to be somewhere, some thing else. Morgan added sriracha and stirred. She should be more excited about this. She should be brimming up with relief. Remmy was easy and uncomplicated to spend time with. Too earnest, too nice, too good to care about anything as long as it was meant well. But maybe that was just exactly the problem. 

Remmy was excited about today. Seeing Morgan was going to be a relief. She was nice and sweet and she cared about Remmy enough to cook them brains. And with what had happened with both Blanche-- though that was more of Remmy’s fault, and it still pained them to remember-- and Skylar, they could use a good, relaxing day. And trying something new was always fun! Remmy lifted their fist and knocked, pleasantly surprised by how much nice the house Morgan now shared with Cece was than the run down hotel room she’d been staying in. Maybe Morgan would be excited to hear Remmy had moved, too. Even if their reason wasn’t as nice. “Hi!” they said, giving a little wave when Morgan opened the door. “I brought um-- flowers. Sunflowers! And raspberry jam. I sort of….bought a lot recently and need people to give them to. I hope you don’t mind.”

Morgan wiped her blood stained lips and came to the door, summoning up a smile just as Remmy came into view. “Oh, Remmy!” She took up the flowers and jam. “This is so nice! Thank you. You know you didn’t have to do anything special, right?” She shifted the gifts and pulled her friend into a one armed hug. “Just you is good enough to bring. But, I bet these are going to look amazing in the place. Come on in and get cozy. I’m almost done with dinner.” She kicked the door gently shut behind them and went back to the kitchen, taking another big chug from her glass before turning her attention back to the pan.

Remmy leaned gratefully into the hug, realizing they hadn’t hugged anyone except Moose since the incident with Alain. No, since before that. Since they’d found out what they were. Morgan pulled away too soon, but they covered up their disappointment with a quick grin. “Um-- think of it as a housewarming gift, then!” They took their jacket off and hung it by the front door before following Morgan into the kitchen. “Wow, that smells-- really good. Which is saying something, because um-- you know,” they waved a hand at their face, “It’s not um-- weird, or anything, right?” Their eyes fell on the glass, bright red liquid decorated with flowers and frills. Must be tomato juice. Remmy had never understood why people liked drinking tomato juice.

“Oh, yeah? I guess there is something you can sense after all, it was just a matter of finding what speaks to your appetite,” Morgan said. “Oh, don’t come in here yet, I’m still working. Have to concentrate. I’ll come to you when it’s done!” And when she’d figured out what to do with her blood set up. That seemed like an exhausting thing to explain and she didn’t want anything else to worry about tonight. Remmy was here. Remmy was easy. And as soon as she finished dinner, maybe she could be easy too. “Why don’t you tell me about what’s going on with your girlfriend!” She called over her shoulder. 

“Oh, sorry!” Remmy said, immediately backing up and heading over to the living room. They sat at the table there and folded their hands into their lap, gazing around. Cece’s place was pretty nice, and they were sure Morgan must enjoy it here much more. It felt...homey. And safe. Remmy smiled, relaxing a bit more. “What-- we’re-- we’re not-- she’s not!” they stuttered out at the surprise question. “We haven’t even gone on the date yet! I, um-- I postponed it. Cause of uh, well…” they trailed off, “the whole being undead thing.”

Morgan flipped the brain bits over and promptly felt a twist in her stomach from her lad gulp of blood. Shit. She bent over the sink and heaved as quietly as possible into the tupperware. “What? Oh, but you’re still gonna go, right?” She called. “She really likes you, and I uh--sort of gave her the ‘don’t hurt my friend’ spiel.” Shivering, she turned back to the pan and flipped the brain pieces one last time. Charred on one side, damnit. Morgan turned off the heat and started assembling her handiwork. Red plate for Remmy, blue for herself, so no one got confused. She assembled the fixings the best she knew how, heaving a sigh of relief as the cumin floated up her nostrils. One last sip, to make sure she’d make it through dinner okay, and Morgan brought the plates over to the couch, too tired to think about the stain running down the side of her lip. “Here you go! You can say if it’s too burnt. I don’t have any more to cook, but I’ll know better for next time.” She curled up on the other side of the couch from Remmy and took a deep smell of the food. Her stomach wasn’t ready to take anything in yet, but when it did, she was sure it would almost taste like home.

Remmy heard a weird noise under all the crackling of the frying pans, but didn’t think too much of it. “Oh, um-- I-I dunno. I still need to...figure things out, about myself, a-and how I feel. But-- we’re meeting to talk! Because I sort of...blew up on her. But we’re okay now! Um...mostly.” They stopped, listening as Morgan turned off the stove and started plating the tacos. “Um, thanks again for doing this for me. I, um-- everything is still a little strange. And new.” They paused as Morgan finally came out of the kitchen, looking up at her and-- freezing. That wasn’t tomato juice. Tomato juice was usually orange, wasn’t it? Or orangeish. Remmy didn’t know how they knew, but they knew. That wasn’t tomato juice. “Umm...Morgan?” they asked, staring wide eyed at her. “Wha-- what are you drinking?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Morgan said. “How long ago was this? When we talked the other night she didn’t let anything on. But it wasn’t anything long, just like, online.” She breathed the food in again. It seemed alright, but maybe it was time to chug some peptol instead-- “What?” She asked. What do you--oh!” Suddenly her mouth was the only thing Morgan felt aware of. Her plate clattered down on the coffee table as she got up and ran for her blood towel (this fucking town, turning her into someone with a blood towel) and wiping herself off before rinsing her mouth nearly straight from the faucet. Shit. “It’s nothing!” She called. “I’m fine, really. Just a weird...thing, that’s going on. Sorry.”

Remmy couldn’t help but follow Morgan as she raced into the kitchen, both worry and confusion wrought inside of them. “Morgan, what’s going on?” they asked, scuttling into the kitchen. Noticed the glass full of, well-- if not tomato juice, then-- noticed her rinsing her mouth in the sink. Noticed the tupperware in the sink. “Morgan, are you--!” They started. Stopped. None of this made sense. “Why are you drinking blood!? Why are you acting weird about it! What’s going on?” they said, bewildered. Was this just another person not telling them something? Another person hiding something important? Remmy stepped back. “Are you a vampire?? Or a-- like me?”

Morgan didn’t want to be doing this right now. Between Skylar and Deirdre and getting set back a week from her ghost summoning and her students who were too scared to learn anything new and still, still, being half frozen inside, she was not ready to explain to one more person how she’d screwed herself over and sucked other people into her screwy orbit. She didn’t have the energy to be chipper or self-deprecating about it. She wanted one thing to be right and uncomplicated. “I don’t mean to freak you out,” she sighed. “I am sorry, Remmy. Okay? Can we go back to the couch? Keep eating?” She looked at her friend, and saw her own pleading face reflected back in their expression. “It’s a long, stupid story, a story with a stupid magic TICK in it, but am not anyone or anything other than what I’ve said I am. I can absolutely promise you that.” She began to fix herself a fresh glass of water. Held it over her chest, soothing herself with the weight of it as she breathed slowly. “It’s--call it a temporary allergy! I only flared up because I was making you dinner! Okay?”

Remmy felt a little pang. Another pang. They wanted it to be a nice night, too. That’s what it was supposed to be, just a nice night. “I--” they started, then stopped. They what? Wanted to help? Wanted to know what was going on? They’re help only got people hurt or upset. They stopped talking. “I’m not freaked out. I was just worried, I guess.” They looked from morgan to the table, then back again. “Magical tick? I-- you know, never mind. If you don’t wanna tell me, fine,” they said, slinking back over to the table. “I get it. Okay? You’re going through some shit, I get it.” The tacos looked yummy, but suddenly, they weren’t hungry. They flopped into the chair. “Temporary allergy or whatever, are you okay?” 

Morgan put her face in her hands. She wanted to scream. Remmy didn’t even believe her, and, fuck, why should they? Magic tick? Out of nowhere? Seriously? She shuffled after them, her stomach heavy and ruined with a whole new feeling, and flopped down on the couch. “I screwed up, Remmy, okay?” She said quietly. “That’s basically all there is to it. I tried to do something to fix...myself, and the magic ticks from online were alive instead of dead, and somehow this has managed to backfired on me AND other people.” She looked at Remmy sidelong. They weren’t eating. Was she already messing up with them too?

Remmy tilted their head, blinked in surprise. “Fix yourself?” They moved slightly. “What...what do you mean fix yourself? Is something wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt or sick? Or wait-- do you mean the cold thing? Cause people are working on that! They are! I-I swear. I know it’s hard, being cold all the time, but it’s gonna be okay! But you gotta tell me about these magic ticks. That’s a new one. What did you need ticks for? Why would they make you drink blood or stuff? I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” 

Morgan pressed her hand to her face again. She was explaining this so badly, and Remmy was somehow over the part where they were left out of this news and offering to help. How did she tell them she was beyond their brand of help? That she was in ‘try to summon ghosts in front of a practical teenager’ territory? Were they next? She couldn’t think of what she could do to screw up their life too, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Morgan drew her knees up to her chest and shook her head. “It’s not that. That is the least of my problems, honestly. Can you just tell me about you? Tell me all the stuff I missed while I was--” being insensitive. “Being kind of a jerk when you were figuring this zombie thing out?”

“What? No!” Remmy protested. “Morgan, we have to talk about you! You’re going through something big and I-- you didn’t tell me, but I’m here now and you can tell me now! Please tell me now? I just want to help.” Why wouldn’t anyone let Remmy help? Why was everything they’d found slipping through their fingers already? “Why didn’t you tell me before? I coulda helped.” They didn’t want to think about what they were going through. They’d done enough thinking about that. They’d already decided to put it away. It was in a neat little box in their head and they didn’t want to unwrap it and everything that came with it. “Please just tell me.”

“Tell you what!” Morgan snapped. “That I am a walking time bomb of a curse? That I sliced some kid’s arm open in this room because the magic tick I wanted for a spell made me lose my shit at the sight of my own blood? Or that you helping is only going to make your life worse?” She trembled as the last words came out. It had all just sort of...happened. She hadn’t let herself stop for very long to process anything and now it was just coming out all over Remmy, on their dinner that was supposed to smooth things over! Why was she like this? “I’m sorry,” she whispered quickly. “I didn’t mean, I mean, it’s all true, but not like how I said it. Um…” Shit. 

Remmy flinched back when Morgan started yelling. Curse? Cutting someone? Spells gone wrong? They paused, waited for Morgan to peter out. “What curse are you talking about?” they asked quietly after a moment. “What do you mean...I don’t understand.” They’d come back to the cutting and the blood ticks and the weird spell that needed said blood ticks. For now, they could concentrate on one thing. “How is...how is helping going to make it worse?"

“Because I am trouble, Remmy. I am literal walking, magic trouble!” Morgan said. “And maybe it won’t happen for a few more months, but you will get sucked into it if you do not start to get away from me!” Morgan’s body was hot all over with fear. Remmy was too good for their own good, too sad and new and good to be strung along, especially while not knowing what they were in for. God, how had she not owned up to what they were in for until just now? 

“What?” Remmy said, bewildered. “I-- I don’t…” the blinked, confused. “I’m not going to leave you, Morgan. I can’t-- I can’t lose anymore friends. So who cares if you’re trouble! O-or in trouble. I’ll help you! I can help you!” They said, leaning a bit forward, not wanting to spook Morgan, but wishing they could go over and hug her or let her know it’s okay somehow. “I’m not leaving. I’m not...going to get away from you. Whatever this curse is, isn’t that what friends do? Stick around even for the bad?”

“Not when the bad wants to eat you for more trauma fodder,” Morgan said. “When my magic bullshit wants to destroy whatever is too close to me, and you are so fucking nice it’s almost terrifying--no. That is the actual recipe for no. And why would you want that in the first place, Remmy? No one wants that! Nothing is worth that! What if you died--or--I don’t know, what if Moose died! Or---” She flailed desperately into space. Remmy didn’t have a lot to lose either. What had she been thinking? Morgan deflated down into the couch cushions.

“You’re worth it, Morgan!” Remmy nearly shouted. They stood up and made their way over to her now, still uncertain how to proceed, but knowing that they needed to just get it. They’d already lost Blanche and now probably Skylar-- it was happening all over again. They couldn’t do it. They couldn’t lose Morgan, too. “You’re worth it,” they said, sinking to the floor in front of her, in hopes that she would look at them and see the earnest-- the desperation-- in their eyes.

Morgan was tired. She knew the right thing was to lighten her White Crest baggage as much as possible, to stay focused and lay low and make this end before fall or winter had the next chance to crawl near her, but she was so tired, and Remmy was hurt enough already. She shut her eyes and forced her breaths to turn even, in for five, hold for three, out for five. Five, three, five. She kept count with her fingers on her shoulder. She should probably tell Remmy she made her crystals out of beach junk. That she’d given the waitress at Al’s a concussion. That she didn’t know how to thread the needle between being cautious and tearing apart the ether to break out of her mess. “Okay,” she mouthed. “Okay, Remmy.” she beckoned them to come back up. 

Remmy waited patiently for Morgan, tacos long forgotten. They noticed the fingers tapping on her shoulder-- a similar technique to what one of the doctor’s had taught Remmy for when they started having panic attacks. When she finally relented, Remmy crawled onto the couch and wrapped their arms around her. “I’m sorry,” they muttered, “whatever’s going on...I’m sorry. But I’m not gonna leave because of some stupid curse.” They let out a long breath. They weren’t going to lose someone else, not tonight. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

For a moment Morgan tensed in Remmy’s arms, continued tapping, breathing. She didn’t have anyone to do this for her. She kept herself alone, or excused herself to go hide, but even if she didn’t know what to do with the cold weight around her back, she couldn’t deny how it eased the pain in her shoulders or how it gave her something sturdy to brace herself on. As Morgan continued to breathe, she could see the whole trail of losses that she carried behind her, so many invisible holes pulling on her. She could see a whole blank space of god only knew what ahead, opaque as the black under her eyes. She remembered what Deirdre had said: You can rest, can’t you? Just for a moment. Was this the moment? She felt something rise up in her, something begging to breathe, and opened her eyes long enough for one tear to roll out, and to shift herself so she was gripping Remmy’s arm instead. “I’m sorry I freaked out,” she said.

“What? No,” Remmy shook their head, giving a tiny sigh of relief when Morgan gripped their arm. “Don’t apologize. It-- it’s fine. Really.” They laid their head against hers when they felt her relax a little more. “It’s...it’s okay to cry. We can just sit here. We don’t have to talk.” Quiet another moment, before-- “Whenever I would get um...really sad, I would sit on my bed and tell myself stories about...happier times. It didn’t always work, but...I can do that for you, if you want.”

“I’m not crying,” Morgan scoffed, blinking back the tears at the edge of her lids. But she stayed close to Remmy and held on tight until her chest could keep a steady pace on its own. “I don’t know if I can handle hearing about happy times,” she admitted. “Can you reach the TV remote without letting go? I um...I normally watch something dramatic and trashy, when I’m...tired and on edge like this. Do you like TV, Remmy?” 

Remmy couldn’t help but feel a little saddened for Morgan. “I didn’t say you were...I said you could, but…” they glanced away, giving her a moment to gather herself, “okay. We can watch something.” Remmy leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote, leaning back, “whatever you want. I don’t know much TV so it’s your pick.” Held the remote out to her. And maybe it wasn’t the best resolution to the night, but it was a start. And Remmy still had a friend. That had to count for something.

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Meet Me at the Chalet || day four.

Eventual pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Jenessee Borosi)

Word count: ~2.2k

Summary (I suck at these): Jenessee goes on a solo vacation after the release of her first novel. She got a little more than she bargained for when she gets snowed in with her biggest celebrity crush.

Warnings: So much freaking fluff, swearing but blink and you’ll miss it, depressing thoughts (THIS chapter), Tom being Tom

night one. || day one. || day two. || day three. || day four. || day five. ||

When I wake up a couple hours later, I expect to be alone. I thought Tom would have stayed until I fell asleep only to sneak out when he knew I wouldn’t wake up. But that was not the case. He was still in the exact same spot as when I fell asleep: leaned up against the headboard like he had been there all night. His eyes were closed but I could just faintly see dark circles underneath that were not there yesterday. Did he stay up all night? 

I notice that he also had his hand intertwined with mine, resting on his stomach. I can’t imagine I’ve been in the position I’m in for long thanks to me tossing and turning in my sleep so he must have just passed out. 

My heart swelled at the thought of him staying awake for hours, making sure I was okay, but it also hurt knowing he lost sleep because of me. That was the last thing I wanted for him. But then again, he didn’t have to stay awake. He didn’t have to stay in here, period. And he did, because he’s Tom and he’s an extraordinary person.

I sunk back against my pillow gazing up at the perfect human specimen that’s snoozing right next to me. How does one deserve someone as wonderful as him in one’s life if you’ve done nothing to warrant it? Because in my eyes, I have done nothing in my life to be worthy of him and his company. It was simply a happy accident that I wound up here on the day I did and then him getting snowed in here, forcing him to stay longer. Mother Nature threw a wrench in my plans of solitude and I can’t even be mad.

After ogling for longer than I should have, I eased my hand out of his and left the comfort of my bed. I stepped in the bathroom, flinching at the light as soon as I turned it on. I quickly remember that my eyes are usually sensitive to light after tear fests. I stared at my reflection. My eyes were still a tad puffy but no longer bloodshot. My face had also lost the puffiness from last night. My hair was a mess but that’s to be expected. I threw it back in a braid once I brushed it out of one. After brushing my teeth, I finally felt like a normal human being again. All thoughts of last night erased from memory. Another day to keep my feelings in only for it to build and build, creating so much tension that another breakdown is inevitable…

When I emerged from the bathroom, from this new angle, I realized just how incredibly uncomfortable he looks. His back and neck were lying in horrible angles, he’s bound to be sore if he sleeps like that for any longer. There’s no way I can just leave him like this. I tiptoed up to him and placed a soft kiss on his forehead scar. He softly jolted awake, taking in a huge deep breath. “Hey.” I whispered.

He looked at me through fuzzy eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked slightly panicking, sleep still heavy in his voice. I protested his move to get up.

“I’m okay. I just want you to get comfortable under the covers and go back to sleep. I’ll come to get you in a few hours.” I yanked the comforter from under him to get him to move. He obliged, lazily moving so I could pull the sheets over his lean body. He settled against the pillow, closing his eyes once again. Almost instantly, his breathing evened out again signaling he slipped into unconsciousness again. 

Taking my place on the couch in the living room, I stare out the floor to vaulted ceiling windows as the snow dust continues to fall as I absentmindedly eating my waffles I took out of the toaster. The sun illuminates the snow on the ground and makes the dust in the air sparkle.

After a few hours, I wrapped myself in one of the many blankets provided and returned to the kitchen. I started the coffee machine for Tom and filled it with water. I popped in a few slices of bread in the toaster after it finished more waffles and heat up the syrup he’ll more than likely want with the waffles. I take the butter out and any other condiment he might want with his breakfast. I pour a glass of orange juice as well and milk so he has a variety. I cut some fruit and fill a small bowl. All it would need is a single flower in a vase in the middle of the table and we’d be set. I had to improvise though, just using one of their centerpieces instead. As soon as I could smell the coffee brewing, I knew he would be down soon. So I took that as my cue to take out some bacon to fry to really give this breakfast the extra “oomph.”

As I tended to it, I heard soft footsteps walk into the kitchen and then felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist and a kiss be placed on the back of my head. “Love, you didn’t have to make breakfast.” He murmured in my ear, sleep still evident in his voice.

I smile at how cute he is. “How else am I going to thank you for last night?”

“Darling, you don’t have to thank me for that.” He tightened his grip, pulling me even closer.

“But I do,” I countered. “You didn’t have to comfort me, let alone stay all night. I’m a stranger with deeply embedded issues that you definitely don’t have to deal with. I’ve suffered alone my whole life, what’s one more night?” I turn off the stove and bring the bacon to the table. “Sit.” I command, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “I’m sorry it’s not a gourmet breakfast. I am definitely not a chef so this is as good as it’s going to get.” He giggled as he took his seat. I poured his black coffee to finish everything off.

“This looks delightful, darling. Thank you very much.” He eyed me just standing here. “Care to join me?” He took my hand, pulling me to literally stand against him, keeping his arm around my waist as he ate with one hand.

Last night seems to have broken a barrier between us. He has been very touchy this morning, always having to touch me in some way. Yesterday, it was significantly less with only a small gesture here and there, but no more. From waking up with him holding my hand to this, this has been more than either of us has dared to try. It feels oddly natural like we’ve been doing this for years. He makes me feel like I can be myself without the fear of being judged, especially now that he’s seen me at my literal lowest.

For the rest of the day we were hardly ever more than five feet away from the other. We spent the day like we did our first: reading and writing on the couch. The only difference this time is he was right next to me. He even laid his head on my lap at one point. We didn’t talk much. Only asking when the other was hungry for lunch and dinner. It was a soothing day after a tumultuous night before.

What made it even better though? S’mores and hot chocolate.

Tom had the brilliant idea after we had dinner. He remembered there being an outdoor bonfire pit before all of the snow fell. He also spied some wood behind the welcome desk. I happily watched from inside as he set it up. Soon enough we had a fire. We toasted as many marshmallows as we could, pre-making the treats before heading back inside to dive in. We took a seat in front of the fireplace to warm back up with our large mugs of chocolate and marshmallow goodness.

“You’re pretty adept at fire-making.” I voice as I take a bite of my first s’more. The gooey marshmallow mixed with the now melting chocolate and the crumbly graham cracker perfectly creating a pleasant moan coming from my mouth, unable to stop myself.

“I’m a jack of all trades, really. I can learn to do anything. Just like I can pretty much do an impression of anybody with any accent. I always say I’m like a parrot.” He showed me a few of his really good ones, causing me to roll on the floor with laughter at just how good he is at them. “Ah, there it is.” He pointed after my laughing fit.

“There what is?” I asked wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Your smile. I’ve been missing it all day.” He scooted next to me, wrapping us both in a blanket by wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head on his shoulder, watching the fire. The warmth washed over us as we sat there.

“You just bring it out of me, I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about last night?” He asked after we sat in silence. I knew this question would be coming eventually. He would respect me if I didn’t want to talk about it but was curious to know if I would open up to him.

I released a big sigh, “Not really.”

“Because I’ve been told that I am an excellent listener and an even better secret keeper.” He boasted. I chuckled at his modesty.

I sat up straight, keeping my gaze on the fire. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face worse than the fire. “I appreciate the concern but I’m more of a suffer in silence type and then bury my feelings until the next time. No need for discussion.” I stood up looking for any excuse to walk away from this conversation.

“Why didn’t he try more?” I halted in my tracks. “Why didn’t he want to spend time with me?” My chest tightened at the repeat of the answerless questions I had asked hours ago. “If he didn’t want kids, why did he?”

“You were listening?” I asked in disbelief. Horror spread throughout my body at that thought. He heard my wails of insecurity as well as endured my tears. Somehow that makes it all worse. I turned back to see he had stood as well.

“I caught a few things when I was on my way to your room.” He quickly explained, putting some of my nerves at ease, but continued, “but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. Everyone has, for lack of a better term, ‘daddy issues.’ I know I do.”

This surprises me. Not much is known about his relationship with his dad. All we do know is they haven’t been close since his parents’ divorce. He’s never outwardly spoken about it before now. “You do?”

“Growing up I only ever lived with my mother and my two sisters. My father and I have never been close. I barely saw him after the divorce and even when I did, it was only briefly. As a child, I tried not to take it personally, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve only realized that it wasn’t me at all. It was him.”

“I know it’s not my fault for why my dad is the way he is, but you’d think that having a child would change your perspective. You’d want to be the best parent you can be for your child. You’d want to be there for every scraped knee to every broken heart, for every sports game or music program- and not just because your child wants you there, but because you truly want to support whatever your child wants to do… It shouldn’t matter where the event takes place, the weather, or how traffic is as so many of his excuses were to not attend some of my important events.” He missed every parent-teacher conference after elementary school, didn’t come to numerous choir concerts throughout high school… all because the weather was predicted to be bad, or the traffic to get down to my school was too thick… “And he always made it feel like an inconvenience for him… Your child shouldn’t be an inconvenience. To him, I was.” I could feel the tears threatening to make their appearance again. I blinked them away, taking some deep breaths. “That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

Tom appeared in front of me, cradling my face in his hands. The sadness and hurt in his eyes was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. “My darling, you are not an inconvenience. You deserve to always be treated as a top priority, no matter what.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you by asking.”

I scoffed. “Don’t be sorry. You were bound to be curious about it. I’m sorry for being so emotional and complicated. I’m not usually.”

“You never have to apologize for how you feel, especially with me. Alright?”

I nodded reluctantly. If I were to have him in my life, there would be nothing to be upset about. That I know for sure. And even if these feelings did pop up again, I know he would be right there to comfort me, exactly like he was last night.

day five...

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @hiddlephile @naniky

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 12, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

CHAPTER WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink

First rewritten reworking 06/17/2023

Second rewritten reworking 10/04/2024

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1092

I was doing inventory on the food in the Bradley triplets’ cooler when Peter wandered into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee before standing back to watch me putter about.

“You want me to make you some breakfast?” I asked him as I avoided his gaze, rushing about awkwardly as I tried to avoid the elephant in the room.

 “Can you look at me, please sweetheart?” I forced my eyes up to look at my soulmate. “What’s wrong?”

 “Last night…” I trailed off awkwardly. “Where do we stand? I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

 “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing either,” he murmured softly, placing his hand on my shoulders.

 “It felt nice, what you did to me,” I confessed, bringing his hand up to my cheek and leaning my petite body into his touch. “Does sex feel like that?”

 He sucked in a mouthful of air and fell into a crouch, meeting me at eye level.

 “I think the best way to answer that question is to experience it for yourself,” he told me with honesty in his voice. “I’m not comfortable telling you what my experience with sex is.”

 “Oh okay, I understand,” I mumbled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Is this okay?”

 Peter only closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his face as I pressed my soft body into his hard muscles, wrapping my arms loosely around his shoulder. He sighed happily as I began to hum a sweet song to him.

 “So what are you doing for today, sweetheart?” he asked, finger combing my curls.

 “Again, I need to deliver bread to Father Kevin for service today, and a few other places requested my homemade bread so I’m going to deliver to them as well. I could use your help, I think,” I listed off the top of my head. “Want to try some? I baked two dozen loaves this past week.”

  I turned back to look for breakfast and came up with a box of pancake mix.

 “How many do you want?” I asked him as I quickly prepared a bowl of pancake mix. “I’m making six for myself.”

 “I’ll also have six,” he answered.

 “I make fat ass pancakes, so if you want more, let me know and I’ll fix some up for you,” I said as I poured the first pancake into the pan and stood above it with a spatula in hand. I had eggs scrambling in another pan and bacon frying in a third. “Can you slice up a loaf of bread for toast for me, please?” I pointed a knife over towards a covered basket. Peter removed the cover and looked at the many loaves of home baked bread.

 “Any loaf?” he called as his hand hovered over the basket. “It doesn’t matter?”

 “They’re all the same,” I responded. He selected a loaf at random and unwrapped it before beginning to slice it with a bread knife. Through our bond, his mouth began to water as he took in a deep inhale of homemade bread.

 “There’s butter in the cooler, could you go ahead and grab it for me?” I asked next, taking the sliced bread and beginning to toast it on the stove. “Gramercy.”

 Peter set the tub of butter next to me and leaned in, placing an arm on either side of me, safely caging me in.

 “When do you want to get married?” he suddenly asked, the thought occurring to him.

 “Why, you excited?” I teased as I flipped one pancake onto a plate before pouring more batter into the pan. “Not until after little girl is born- New York has a law where no matter who the dad is, the husband’s name is required to be on the birth certificate. And I don’t want your name on the birth certificate- she isn’t yours, she’s Aaron’s and James’ daughter. I just don’t want to deal with the legality issues there.” I finished another pancake and poured more mix into the pan. “She’s due in less than fourteen weeks, so we still have time.”

 “Fourteen weeks to find a house and move into a safer neighborhood,” Peter mused out loud. “It’s a tight deadline, but perfectly achievable.”

 “Are you alright with house hunting on your own?” I asked him, reaching up to wrap my arm around his neck. “I’d like to avoid as much stress as I can.”

 “I don’t want to say yes to a house and end up with you hating it,” Peter told her. “What are your must haves?”

 “A big kitchen- I do all the cooking in the apartment I share with my sisters,” she told him, finishing up breakfast. “A tub in the master bathroom- though I’ve been needing help getting out these past few weeks.”

 “Big kitchen, bathtub, got it,” Peter nodded. “Anything else?”

 “A big backyard, if possible,” I shrugged. “I like to entertain and stuff- it comes from being in a big family, I guess. What about you? What are your must haves when your house hunting?”

 “Well, I prefer to be in the Brooklyn area, as how I grew up in the Red Hook area,” he started off with, folding himself up into a corner. “I like nature, so preferably in the middle of green and with no one else around for miles. A big garage where I can work on my car, and a big workroom where I can work on little odds and ends.”

 “And a recording studio?” I suggested, turning to hand him a pale that was full of food, coupled with a sweet smile. “Order up!”

  Gramercy, thank you, Old French?

 TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

 If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE (http://ko-fi.com/A0A4A4UD) It only costs $3!!!

 PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a​

@rockstarslutt​

@angelxfuckk​

[dr-gloom]

The Makings of Greatness: Chapter 5

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: platonic logince, platonic moxiety, platonic anxeit, familial ThVi

Tags/Warnings (for this chapter): Virgil is suspicious, and salty

Ko-fi

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue  Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Ch 10  Ch 11  Ch 12  Ch 13  Ch 14  Ch 15  Ch 16  Ch 17

Logan’s every angered step clanged along the wooden staircase down to the galley, face pinched and absolutely fuming. “That man, that… feline! Who does he think is working for whom?”

Virgil stops next to him. “Hey, it’s my map, and he’s got me bussing tables?”

Emile walks up behind them, gripping their shoulders. “I will not tolerate a bad word about our captain. There’s no finer officer in this galaxy.” He lets them go to continue through the galley, following Logan and Virgil. Logan stomps ahead, pausing as whistling catches his ear.

Past several rows of large wood tables to the kitchen, a man moves about, whistling a strange tune to himself as he works. “Mr. Moran!” Emile calls.

The cook straightens up, wiping his hands on his apron and smiling. “Ah, Mr. Picani, sir! Bringing such fine, distinguished men to grace my humble galley.” His voice is smooth and deep, strangely lulling. He steps out of the shadows the brick stove casts across the kitchen, bowing in good fun with a grin spread across his face. “Had I known, I’d’ve tucked my shirt in.” He laughs at his own joke.

His entire right leg had been replaced with a hydraulic prosthetic; it was an accordion-like mechanism down to the calf, where it turned into a simple metal peg, easy for walking. His right arm was also all machine, though this one far more impressive. Virgil wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly. The top half was simple machine, with typical gears and compressors, while his forearm was a massive, rounded metal shell with long slits in its surface. It was definitely unique, and strange. His left eye and the surrounding flesh were replaced with a machine as well, a golden eye that held a focus lense that could zoom in and out at will and a mechanism where the ear would be to process sound. When he smiled, the skin around the edges of the metal in his face would bunch up. Aside from that, he looked as though he might be a similar species to Logan; small, floppy ears (or, ear…), stout, chubby fingers, and an animalistic nose, though he didn’t have a muzzle. In that respect, he was more like Roman. He wore a plain white shirt, partially covered by his apron, and a loose pair of black pants.

Virgil already didn’t like him. It didn’t help that he was a- Virgil gasped, a phrase ringing in his head. “Cyborg….”

“I came to introduce Dr. Abbott, the financer for our voyage.”

Mr. Moran’s eye turns red, and a laser shoots out to dart across Logan’s suit, taking him in. “Love the outfit, doctor.” He chuckles. Logan resists the urge to cover himself like some exposed damsel.

“Thank you. Interesting eye.” He turns to take Virgil’s arm, pulling him forward. “And this is Virgil Shae.” Virgil gives Logan a scandalized look as the man backs away, leaving Virgil at the cyborg’s mercy.

Mr. Moran thrusts his hand out- or, what used to be a hand. It was now replaced with five tools; a drill, a knife, a strange cross between a mace and a bat, pliers, and scissors. “Virg-o!” Virgil rolls his eyes, shoulders tense as he studies the tools in front of him. Mr. Moran pauses for only a brief moment before tsking himself, and suddenly the metal casing of his forearm is splitting open, and a rotating mechanism is switching the tools with a robotic hand; bare joints and pads for gripping. His grin broadens as he waits, but Virgil just glares up at him. Mr. Moran shrugs, moving back into the kitchen.

“Don’t be too put-off by this… hunk of hardware.” As he speaks, the hand is replaced with scissors. His flesh hand reaches up and grabs a grouping of some alien shellfish, pulling them down and using the scissors to snip the tendrils attaching them to the ceiling. The scissors are then replaced with a multi-purpose tool that he uses to cut open the shellfish, gut them, and toss them into the frying pan with minimal movement. The tool rotates through the functions as it works, so all he has to do is move his arm from one shellfish to the next. The tool is then replaced with a large knife that he uses to cut up some vegetables. He slips his flesh arm into the sleeve to make it seem like he cut his hand off. “Whoa!” He brings his arm up and the sleeve falls down, revealing his uninjured hand, and he grins.

Parlor tricks. Virgil isn’t a child.

The knife is replaced with three small claws, which he uses to break and dispense the contents of three eggs. “These gears have been tough getting used to, but… they do come in handy.” The claws leave to be replaced by a torch, which Mr. Moran lights under the pan as he carries it to the brick stove, dumping the contents into a pot and mixing them together with a normal ladle.

“Now, how about you two try my famous bonzabeast stew?” He spoons out and hands them two bowls; Logan sniffs his curiously. “It’s an old family recipe.” Mr. Moran grins as an eye pops out of Logan’s stew, startling him.

“In fact, that’s part of the family.” He chuckles and grabs the eye, popping it in his mouth. As Logan looks at him, scandalized, he raises an amused eyebrow. “I’m only joking.” He nudges Virgil. “Your friend can’t take a joke, can he?” Virgil shrugs, side-eyeing Mr. Moran. “Go on, try it.”

Mr. Moran moves back to the kitchen to finish preparing the food and Virgil spoons some out, glancing at it skeptically. Suddenly, the spoon curls around the food and swallows it, turning pink. Virgil gasps as it grows eyes, its full mouth grinning up at him. What the…

The rest of the spoon turns pink as it swallows the food and jumps out of Virgil’s hand, seemingly floating in mid-air.

“Morph!” Mr. Moran’s voice calls out fondly. The pink blob smiles and sticks its tongue out at Virgil playfully. It turns into a straw and lands in Virgil’s stew and he watches curiously as it sucks it all up. “You little blob of mischief, so that’s where you went off to.”

Morph turns back into his pink blob form and plops into the now-empty bowl, sighing contently. He burps and flies out of the bowl, rubbing up against Virgil’s cheek happily. “Whoa-” He puts his hand up to block it, the feeling of its weird, almost wet slime-like texture unsettling. “What is that thing?”

“What is that thing?” The blog echoes in a higher-pitched voice. Virgil pokes it and it disperses into smaller blobs before coming back together and shifting into a much smaller copy of Virgil. Virgil squints, and it squints back.

“He’s a morph. I rescued him on Proteus.” Morph goes back to his pink form and flies over to Mr. Moran, cuddling against his neck. “He took a liking to me, and we’ve been together ever since.” He pet the blob with a finger as it cooed happily, smiling.

A bell tolls outside, and Emile clears his throat. “We’re about to get under way. Would you like to observe the launch, doctor?”

“Ah, yes, let’s. I must admit I am rather curious to see the process first-hand.” Logan heads for the stairs, and Virgil moves to follow.

A stone hand extends in front of him, blocking his path. “Virgil, you’re staying with Declan, under his charge.”

Declan coughs when he chokes on the stew he’d been testing, wiping his mouth and straightening up to look at the first mate. Virgil’s eyes widen in panic. Please don’t leave me with the psycho cyborg, please please please…

“I… Beg your pardon, sir, but-”

“Captain’s orders, Declan.” Emile states with an air of finality. “Make sure you keep him busy.”

Virgil’s shoulders drop. Oh, right. He was the pest. The unwanted guest.

“Oh, but wait, you can’t-”

Emile disappears up the stairs.

They both sigh.

In a breath, they’re both on guard, arms crossed and chins up, surveying each other.

“So, captain’s put you with me….”

“Whatever.”

Declan shrugs, going back to work. “Ah, well. I wouldn’t be a humble cyborg, to argue with the captain.”

Virgil’s eyes narrow. Have to act casual.

He grabs a purple fruit from an open barrel, tossing it between his palms. “You know… these purps, they’re kind of like the ones back home… on Montressor. Ever been there?” His heart was beating hard in his chest. What would happen to him if Declan found him out? Would he kill him?

“Can’t say I have, Virg-o.”

“It’s Virgil.”

Declan shrugs, back facing Virgil, and he huffs, pulling himself up onto the countertop. “Actually… now that I’m thinking about it, I met this old guy just before I left that was looking for his cyborg friend.” He takes a bite of the purp.

“Is that so?” Declan asks, tone easy.

“Yeah… What was his name? Oh, right. Billy Bones.”

Declan raises an eyebrow. “Bones. Bones…?” He grabs the large bowl he’d been working over, moving it to the other side of Virgil. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Must’ve been a different cyborg. There’s a lot of us out there…”

Someone whistles overhead, drawing both men’s attention.

“Prepare to cast off!”

Declan grins, gently pushing Virgil off the counter to reach a bottle behind him. “Go watch the launch. There’ll be plenty of work for you when you get back.” Virgil gives him a skeptical look before sauntering up the stairs. Declan hums, holding out a cracker for Morph.

“Better keep an eye on him, huh, Morph? Wouldn’t want him getting into things he shouldn’t.”

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